Dutchy and The Leash

Have I ever told you how we revealed our pregnancy with our third baby?

No.

Well.  There are a few reasons why I don't share this information.

1: I am terrified you will think I am the worse Mom.  Ever.

and

2: I am terrified that my poor third child will never let me live it down; bless him.

With Daxxon, our first born, I am sure we did some sort of thought out pregnancy reveal, like making a cute card that said "from your grandchild"... or something fun like that.  I've had three kids since that day, so I don't remember the details.  With Zadie, number 2, we spelled out "we are pregnant" in a rigged scrabble game and with Dutch, numero tres... well it wasn't as exciting.

Our little family of four was driving home from church in our oh-so-cool Jeep Commander.  Sitting high above the sedans and minivans we waited at the traffic light, I knew it was time to bring IT up.  The kids were in the "pre-nap-stare-out-the-window-trance", the car abnormally silent.  The sky was gray and a soft drizzle was hitting the windshield as I contemplated how to bring up the news to my husband. I had suspiciously passed my "time of the month", I convinced myself that if I lived in denial I could put off the inevitable.

Well, after discussing the topic for 30 seconds we pulled into CVS and I ran in to purchase the dreaded "TEST".  After the quick transaction, I jumped in the car and we jolted home without saying a word to each other.  I walked in the house mid-afternoon on that rainy Sunday with stick in hand and 2 kids crying in their beds, and gingerly I closed the bathroom door behind me.  A deep breath filled my lungs as I peeled open the box so my future fate could be determined.  The corse white absorbent stick was not even wet before the plus sign made it's way to the forefront of the screen.  I glanced, and my fears were confirmed and immediately I tossed the test into the bathroom trash.  A wave of emotion came over me, most from the rapidly increasing hormones but also a deep fear of the unknown.  I couldn't fit a third child in our car, I couldn't fit a third child in our tiny 2 bedroom home, and, heck, I couldn't fit a third child in a restaurant booth...we were now a "party of five", and we had officially out-grown the American norm.  I emptied my lungs with a sigh and knew it would all "work out" just fine.

Later that night the in-laws came over, and after being at our house for less than 10 minutes one of them visited the restroom.  After exiting the bathroom with wide eyes and a smile, they wondered if the clue laying on top of the tissues and bandaid wrappers belonged to me. And, yes, it did.

We all laughed... and then celebrated the new life that was on it's way.

 My pregnancy was a blur.  I honestly don't remember much of it because I was so busy chasing the other two kids around.

Dutch was born on his due date, June 26, the same day as our 8th anniversary.  I woke up at 5:00 in the morning with light contractions and slept through them until 7:00.  As the contractions strengthened and my breath shortened, Denver and I were in the car by 7:45.  With my first two children I went into labor because my water broke.  I never felt a contraction, and when I did I was in the hospital and simply beckoned for the anesthesiologist to take my pain away.  Well, such a pleasant experience was not the case for this child.  Instead the little booger pushed his way through my pelvis, prying my hips apart and I swear to you he climbed out.  So. Much. Pain. Seriously, I have never felt so much pain.  My uterus hurts just typing this.  We arrived at the hospital around 8:15 and little Dutchy was born 3 hours and one epidural later.

I took home my third little baby and the heavens rejoiced because in my arms is the child that will someday change the world.  His passion is so potent that it's hard to contain in that little body of his.  He is 15 months old and I am still waiting for his "colic" to go away... he likes to cry; and scream; and holler; and yell; and screech; and squeal.  My ears will never recover from this past year, his pitch is so high that Denver and I downloaded a decibel reader and clocked him at 101 decibels.  No Joke.  The pitch pierces my ears, shoots receptors to my brain stem and shuts down my central nervous system... causing complete loss of control of any coherent thinking.  I even have hash tagged #dutchwontstopscreaming on Instagram...only to keep track of all the screaming.  Like a screaming scrap book of sorts! Some people take pictures of their kids in rocking chairs with cute little animals... I just take pictures of my child crying.  It's sad.

Little baby Dutchy was only 1 week old here.  Stretching out those fabulous lungs. 

"Colic" WHAT?  Denver and I basically passed around a crying baby that looks like this for 6 weeks... that was when it was supposed to "stop"... eh-hem... see pictures below. 

Sorry I just had to add this one... someone WIPE THAT BOYS NOSE!!  

The "Its almost my bedtime and I want to take a bath with brother and sister cry". 

The actual Decibel reader on a road trip to camp!! woohoo... this will be going in the baby book.  

Post shot melt down.  

Last week... He wanted my phone, we are working on saying "please" in baby sign language... trying to get this boy a vocabulary so he doesn't have to scream... he refused to sign, I refused to give him the phone... so here's the picture that resulted.  More. Crying. 

Anyways.  I was trying to get to this story and I have completely gone off grid...  Last week I ran some errands with the Karen (Burmese) family that we are friends with.  I was with the Mom and her four children, who are 18, 16, 14 and 7... Their family has only been in America for 3-4 years... so she raised most of her children in the JUNGLE of Thailand.  She is the "Survivor Man" of mothers.  Raising children in the jungle, cooking 3 meals a day on an open flame and bathing her children in a RIVER!  Seriously, she probably laughs at us American moms.  Well, I brought them back to their apartment and they asked me to wait at my car because they had bought me a present.  The youngest daughter ran upstairs and came back down with a wadded up plastic wal-mart sack.  Sheepishly she smiled and then handed me the crumpled bag.  I took it and the three daughters and the mother began to look at each other and giggle.  Suddenly I felt like they were conspiring against me and I was a little scared to peek inside the bag.  I made eye contact with the mother and she nodded her head and smiled,
coaxing me to peel away the plastic.  Looking down I gingerly unwrapped the plastic bag to find.... A KID LEASH!!!!!!!!!!!  My eyes popped and we ALL burst into laughter.......because guess what... with this child, I totally need that kid leash!!!!!

So, here, a mother who raised her children among wild monkeys and anacondas thinks I NEED A LEASH FOR MY CHILD!!! 

Oh.  Dutchy.  All the words I previously got by without eating... I am now stuffing my mouth full of them.  Words like:

"I will never put one of those horrible leashes on my child"

This child has broken the mold in our family.  He is funny, daring, passionate, and...well... a little wild. My dad calls him the "tornado" or the "the destroyer" or something along the lines of destruction.... He dipped his toothbrush in the toilet last week (and lived) and two nights ago I found him dumping BOAT LOADS (literally, he had a giant toy boat) of bathwater on HIM and the bathroom floor.  Most kids splash in the water or take a cup of water and pour it out... not him, he finds a giant boat and scoops the water up and dumps is out on his freshly changed PJs and my new bath mat.  Seriously.  My gray hair has exponentially multiplied this year, and I can't imagine why?!

But inside this little stunt man I can already see how God is equipping him.  He will use his strong and unique personality traits as assets for HIS kingdom.  Having the boldness and courage to take on life's grandest adventures, his future is sure to be one that will change the world!   I pray that he has a desire and love for God's word, a churning in his heart for justice and a passion for Christ.

So.  If you see me walking my kid around on a leash, don't judge.  Just laugh, hug me and know that I am doing the best that I can to keep us BOTH alive!! :)

Living the "Crumby Life"

My house is a wreck.

It wasn't a wreck until we emptied all of the unpacked boxes from the garage to our living room.

Plus- We have 2 cars in our garage!! woohoo!!
Minus- We have all of our unpacked boxes in the middle of our empty living room!  woohoo!! (<--not)

Moving is hard.  Moving with three children (ALL home for summer break...) impossible.  Seriously.  I might never ever ever move again because this has been so difficult.. but it has taught me to relax and eat the elephant one bite at a time, so they say.

A friend came over this afternoon to pick up something.  I knew she was coming today, but I did not know the time.  Quite honestly, I had forgotten she was even coming until she called me at 11 and told me she was on her way.  When I received the call I was in route to pick up Daxx from school.  (They only went a 1/2 day this first day... not cool people in charge... not cool... I need 8-2:30 minimum to get anything accomplished!!) Anyhow, since I was in the car with 2 tired and hungry children, I was unable to scurry around the house and pick up the bazillion pairs of shoes and the 1/2 eaten pieces of bread that were cluttering up my living room filled with boxes.

She was waiting in front of my house when I pull into the drive way.  So, not only does she get to see my insanely dirty house, but she gets a glimpse of my van... which is even scarier I am sure.   She comes in, we chat, she gets her stuff, she leaves... I throw food at the children and toss them into bed  (Just kidding!! )  I feed them lunch and then usher them to their rooms for naps and then I go throughout the house cleaning up from the chaos of the morning.

As I am picking up I become more and more irritated at the "snacks" that have ended up around my house.  Empty goldfish bags, banana peels breading colonies of gnats, containers with 4-5 Cherios abandoned in the bottom, and 8 cups halfway filled with apple juice!!  Whaaaaa!!!

My insides were screaming... "THIS. IS. RIDICULOUS.  I will never feed my children snacks again!!!"

In the midst of my frustration God gently said to me, "Heather... this is a season of snacking... For your children and for you." 

My children are young.  Their bellies are little.  They need snacks.  They also need meals of healthy filling food too.  Both are essential for them to be growing little people, happy and ready to learn.

This phase of my life is difficult.  It is requiring more of me than I can give so I must constantly be "snacking" on God's word throughout the day.  As I shuffled through my house picking up those stale crumbs that made it possible for my child to make it to their next meal without going into a low-blood-sugar induced coma, God revealed how he allows my soul to snack on Him.

Through Music; He fills me up.

Through scripture I have memorized; He fills me up.

Through fellowship with my family and friends; He fills me up.

Through silence and calmness; He fills me up.

Through listening to His Word; He fills me up.

Through finding beauty in his creation; He fills me up.

(The list goes on and on...)

In so many ways God pours into my life in perfectly small amounts, but those minute moments are sometimes the only thing that gets me to my next feast.  Without them, I too would end up on the floor in a "my-children-are-screaming-and-I-am-a-tired-Mommy" coma!

Snacks will be had, no matter what... no matter how hard I fight them, I live a "crumby" life right now and I must accept it.  Along with the crumbs my soul rejoices in the continual filling of the Holy Spirit, because without Him I am hopeless and I am ridiculous... and I am a mess too.

God is so gentle and full of grace, for Him to seek me out in these small ways and to care enough about me to nourish my soul in ways that I cannot describe is incredible.  I am so thankful I serve a God who cares, and a God who meets me where I am.

My Mom is the "SNACK QUEEN"... Every time we see her she brings the kids baskets of snacks.  I blame their bad habit on her.  ;)  

Earthquakes, Pink Eye, Teeth and 10-Second-Abs

Was anyone else jolted awake last night because of the Oklahoma earthquake??  

Or was it just me?  

I felt the earth jerk and came flying out of my sleep only to wake up my poor husband with a big fat slap in the face.  Needless to say, he wasn't excited to wake up in such a manner.  I asked him, "Did you feel that?" he said "Feel what?  That giant slap in the face?" then I said "Oh, sorry." 

2 thoughts ran through my mind. 

1: Was it another bomb?- "No... didn't hear a 'boom'." 

2:  Was it the rapture?- "If it was I didn't make the cut, I better get some rest before I face some sleepless nights ahead of me."

Then I rolled over and went back to sleep, only to be woken up at 6:04 by my son begging to play Subway Surfer on my husbands iPhone... 

What is with my son waking up at 6:04 AM wanting to play a GAME!?!?  That is earlier than he wakes up on Christmas morning?  Maybe I should just download a new game on Christmas instead of spending his college fund on presents (<---I kid). (And before you have any preconceived notions or pass judgement.. he really doesn't play games very often, he was just introduced to this game last night thanks to his lovely auntie.) 

Now...EYE want to update you all on the "Pink Eye" situation around our house. 

Fact 1:

Pink Eye Is Socially Unacceptable.

If you ever want to be ostracized from your kids school, your church, or your group of BEST friends... get pink eye.  

"Hey we had a play date today, but we didn't call you because you all have pink eye." 

(Gee, thanks for at least being honest ... It's not like I was sitting at home teaching my kids how to give your kids butterfly kisses {or maybe I was?})  

I kid.  Again.  I love my friends.  Too much.  The fact that they could be openly honest and blunt with me about their disgust for me is kinda heartwarming.  I wear it as a badge of honor.  True friendships will withstand pink eye, lice and ring worm! 

Fact 2: 

Pink Eye Is Disgusting

If you ever want to look like Quasimodo sans the giant hump on the back, have pink eye.  Not only is your eye gross all day long from watering and booger-ing, when you wake up in the morning it is swollen shut... or crusted shut, depending on the shade of pinkness.  Are you ready to vomit yet?

Fact 3:
Post Pink Eye Aftermath is ALL Consuming

Would you like an excuse to launder every washable item in your house?  Good, I have your answer... get pink eye.  Our house is squeaky clean, thanks to conjunctivitis.  I have washed ALL sheets, comforters, pillowcases, blankies, towels, clothing.... EVEN the shower curtain for crying out loud... I witnessed my son wiping his eye with it, then I hid in the corner and cried.  The following pic was taken from the TOP bunk of my children's room... a mountain of laundry one.bunk.high.  Sigh.  

Fact 4: 

When You Have Pink Eye.... THROW AWAY ALLL EYE MAKEUP THAT HAS TOUCHED YOUR EYE IN THE LAST MONTH.... Or you will get Pink Eye again!! 

Yes.  I am ashamed to admit.  I reinfected myself due to my own stupidity and stubbornness. Dumb. 

Sunday- "Surely this eye-liner will be okay if I sharpen it really well..."

Monday- "Well, good morning Quasimodo, so nice of you to greet me this Monday morning...."   

Fact Five: 
Pink Eye < Lice

I am going to go ahead and concede.  Anyone with a child who has had lice (cough, cough...my friend Katie) your ramifications exponentially exceed those of a household with Pink Eye.  "Eye.Am.Not.Worthy."


Now, on to my favorite subject, TEETH! (Well, maybe not my favorite, but it's better than talking about Pink Eye.)


If you didn't know... I have been through dental school, but I wasn't old enough to get a degree. ;)  No, but seriously, my Mom and Dad went to Dental School when I was in 6,7,8 and 9th grade.  I spent many hours roaming the halls of OU's College of Dentistry in my pre-teen years.  I know what a typodont is, I have an explorer in my bathroom drawer and I have heard the words "distal cusp" more than anyone who is NOT in the dental profession.  (Random Facts...)

Lately... Zadie has been obsessed over this dentist play-dough toy.  I am really hoping none of you have a mouth like this patient.  Good-golly this poor guy needs a real dentist.  Ouch.

Dutch has been teething, so (for today) I hate teeth.  His top tooth poked through this week... I am not allowing Zadie near him with her dentist tools, but she does enjoy photo-bombing in her spare time.

Now.  I am signing off with 2 things... 

First... If I had all the money in the world I would track this item down and do a blog-review on it, just because I laughed for a solid 10 minutes after seeing this on Facebook today.  If YOU have ever used one, will you let me know if it's worth my money?  I would invest in one for the summer or to use before my kids swimming lessons... the other mom's would be talking about my abs for weeks... 

Second.  I started a FB page for the blog, so find me on Facebook HERE and "LIKE" my page!  Because of ministry, because I have moved more times than many annnnnnd because I am so cool (not) I figured having ONE place to update those who are interested in my blog would be a good idea.  

Thanks for reading, friends.  :) 

Random Mom Confessions: Lies I Have Told My Children

Photo found on PBS.org

I must confess.

I have lied.

To my children.

On multiple occasions.  BUT.  They were justified.  

My sanity was at stake in every.single.sitution.  Do not judge me.  You know you have lied too.  (wink.wink)

Sometimes when our children askandaskandaskandaskandaskandask againandagainandagainandagainandagain the things that come out of our mouths are just for basic survival.

Of course, honesty is the best policy, but when you feel that you might have a mental break down or snap at the thought of one more Veggie Tales song playing in your car, it is best to put the physical and emotional safety of your children above your valor of honesty.

Hopefully you can get a few laughs, and then we can just smile and admit that we are trying our best, and sometimes our "best" can be humorous in hindsight.


Lies I Have Told My Children: 

• Sorry, I cannot turn on the interior car lights at night, then I can't see the road.  :-/ This lie was told to me when I was young, and it never did make sense.  Now, I tell it to my kids, and I have no apologies.  

• No, you can't use my phone, it is almost out of batteries.  What I really mean to say is...."NO, you may not play with my phone.  It is MY PHONE, that I bought with MY money.... I know it keeps you quite for 5 minutes, but your boogery fingers leave smudges, you sneeze grossness all over the screen, and I have no idea what the crusty residue is that always appears after you use it" no.you.cannot.use.my.phone.  

• I am not sure where that paper went?!  OH, are you talking about that paper you brought home from church with 2 streaks of crayon on it?  Oh, that one?  Yea, I dug down to the bottom of the trash can and buried it so deep you will never unearth it.  You're welcome. 

• The Veggie Tales CD must not be working?!  I am sorry.  NO, I just don't like to talk to tomatoes, and a talking squash doesn't make me smile.  ahhhhhhhh.......... 

• If you take a nap, then we can do something fun tonight.  Surprise!!!!  The "something fun" is looking at me all night!!!  Woohoo.  But, didn't that nap feel good. 

• You HAVE to get dressed... No one else wears their PJs when they go to Wal-mart.  Actually.  They do.  I am sorry. 

• Ahh man, we must be out of batteries. Shucks.  Really I am too lazy to find the miniature gnome screwdriver to unscrew 8 screws to replace 10 batteries in a toy that I had been praying would disappear for 3 months.  

• What gum?  Oh... the gum stuck to the top of my mouth that I am hiding from you??   Well, I don't want to dig into my purse to find you a piece of gum right now because then your sister will want gum too and it will turn into a giant ordeal here, in the middle of Target?  (gulp...what gum?)

Do you have any mommy-confessions to make?  Comment below with any funny ones.

Thanks for reading.

Legos... I mean LEGO! Learn a little bit about yourself and take my LEGO Personality Quiz

Hi.  I am a mom of a KFOL who is also commonly known in the LEGO world a KSB.  If you have no idea what I just said, please keep reading.  
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Are you an AFOL (adult fan of LEGO)?  What about an AFFOL (adult female fan of LEGO)? Or maybe a TFOL (teen fan of LEGO)?  Are you a parent of a KFOL (kid fan of LEGO), also known as a POKFOL?  (Do you feel smarter yet?!)
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Are you lost in translation right now?  Let me fill you in.
Haven't you ever heard of the "Bricktionary"? Gah.  Where do you live?  Under a rock?!  I was trying to look up a slang term for LEGO obsessed, my Google search failed me, but I stumbled upon the "Bricktionary".  I couldn't help but have fun with some of the terms I discovered, like Grüschteling the word in German used to describe the sound of rummaging through a bucket of LEGO bricks.  (If you have ever played with LEGOs you know exactly what I am talking about!!) ... A whole new world was opened up to me, and I suddenly realized I had a lot to learn.  This Mom needed to be "LEGO-cated". 
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First if you are a parent to a KFOL (like me) why don't you take the LEGO personality quiz.  I whipped this bad boy up after a 12 hour LEGO binge I assisted my son in.   We were quarantined in our house for 72 hours due to the influenza plague striking our nation, so I had some extra time on my hands.  Forgive me.  (But, I hope you enjoy.)

Created by: Yours Truly (you're welcome)

1.  What is your role when you play LEGOs with you child?  Are you:

• (3) The Builder- You exhibit many OCD tendencies and you must be in control at.all.times.  If there is one piece missing you look relentlessly all day to find it, even turning the entire house upside down because you know that you know, that you know, you saw it by the couch 2 days ago.
• (2)  The Parts Monkey -One who selflessly finds LEGO elements for another during build time. If building sets, parts monkeys are permitted to help with sub-assemblies, but should be aware that their main duty is to provide the builder with what he/she needs**.
• (1)  A Luggle- Non-lego folk** (adapted from term Muggles from the Harry Potter Series) (Which *gasp* I have never read, so I don't really get this, BUT I like the word anyways.)

2. What is your LEGO building positioning?

• (3) At the table, with a magnifying glass table lamp, checking the security of every brick as you build piece by piece.  You. Are. A. Lego. Master. Congrats.  Stop now, and proceed to the Purist aisle. Thanks for coming.  
• (2) On the floor, sitting criss cross applesauce, so you can reach LEGO bricks within reach, building on the unstable carpet until your knees go numb and you can no longer wiggle your toes.
• (1) On the floor, laying on your stomach.  The longevity of this position is the shortest, eventually the small of your back will feel as if it is bearing the load of a baby elephant and your neck muscles want to give out. Any LEGO enthusiast can tell you this is only recommended when building "Vigs".  (the lego term for small Vignettes**) (Duh)

3.  When your child asks you to play LEGOs with them do THEY:

• (3) Build along side of you, picking out the correct pieces as you help assemble.  (muahaha, yeah right!  If you answered yes, you are in complete parental denial.  Now this may hold true for the first 2 minutes of play or if your child is older than 12.)
• (2) Play with the 2 men the "Bignette" (larger version than a vignette**) came with, running around the house, screaming while you are losing your mind trying not to cuss.  But, still "technically" they are playing LEGOs
• (1) Watching yo gabba gabba while you are in the dining room going insane because the lego set has collapsed 5 times since you started 2 hours ago. 

4.  Which type of 'blocks' (or sorry, pardon me, I meant to say 'bricks') do you use?

• (3) LEGOs- the name brand blocks that you could eventually resell on ebay and send your kid to Harvard with all the proceeds
• (2) Duplos- bahahahaha, you only think you are playing legos with your kid. bahahahaha. Just. Wait. 
• (1) Clone Brand or Crap-o-Blocks- Any rival building system, such as mega blocks, Tyco or Coco **

5. What is your favorite color of LEGO?  (Now you have no excuse for not using the correct color terms.  Consider yourself enlightened.)

• (3) Trans Invisible- Term to describe the color of a clear LEGO brick**
• (2) Bred- Term to describe a brick that is brownish red **
• (1)  Blaersk- The slightly different, new shade of Maersk Blue**
• (0) Bley- The derogatory term given to the new grey colors introduced by LEGO in 2004**  

6:  Do you like adding personality to your MOC (My Own Creation, refers to original LEGO creations**)? If so, which best fits your builder fancy?

• (3) Greeble: Adding small parts to make it look fancy ** If you like the little flowers pieces, doors, windows and colored clear "dots"(the pieces that are so enticing to pop in your mouth and chew the LEGO life out of [or does this just pertain to me?]), this is you. 
• (2) BOLOCS: Built Of Lots Of Colors** (I like how this acronym doesn't identify the meaning of the last letter...come one Bricktionary!) 
• (1) You like to sit on the floor and sift around in the LEGO box hearing the sound of the LEGOs mixing together, this sound is called, Grüschteling**, for those of you who do not know.  Aka: LEGO sensory therapy. Ahhhhhhh....

7: Which is the correct term?

• (5) LEGO
• (0) Legos (Endearing (but utterly incorrect) term used by foolish Americans**)(Those Americans!)

8:  When assembling LEGO "Vigs" or "Bigs" for your children, do you REALLY want to:

• (3) Literally throw an adult sized tantrum, screaming, cursing, throwing LEGOs across the room because the 8th time you try and add an intricate piece on the very top, you crush the entire set, thus sending you into a complete and utter LEGO tailspin, becoming the person you wish your children would never see.   (good, then you're a normal human being, whew!)
• (2) Avoid the scenario by adding one or two bricks, looking like you care, but really, not so much.  You'd rather be watching Anderson Cooper or checking your e-mail.
• (1) pshhht... I don't build the LEGO sets, my spouse gets that job.  

9: Which version of LEGOs do you own the most of?

• (3) Star Wars- On shelves, right now, these are the most expensive.  I saw a teenage girl buy a set for $450 last week.  Seriously.  I am SO glad we are not at that stage yet,  yikes.
• (2)  Super Heroes-  Of course you can buy super hero toothpaste, animal crackers, underwear, why not buy super hero LEGOS too? 
• (1) Ninjago- hiiiii-yah!  You are supercool.  They have Ninjago EVERYTHING. Even a TV show. 
• (1000)  Rocking Horse Poo: Very rare elements** that you buy on E-bay or on the LEGO black market behind the Mexican Flea Market on Saturdays at 10th and Penn. (This is an actual term in the Bricktionary, I cannot make this up)

Now... add up all your points... 

Congratulations.  Your LEGO personality is:

1024-25: Purist: A LEGO-fan who only uses official LEGO elements. Or a LEGO creation that only contains official LEGO elements with no modifications or custom parts. Contrast with Custom**

24-15: Customizer: a LEGO-fan who is not afraid to modify LEGO parts. Customizing may include painting, cutting, drilling, melting LEGO elements, adding other non-LEGO parts to a creation, or adding details with custom-made stickers and decals. These are all considered herecy by a “purist”.**

14-0: KSB: Abbreviation used in polite company to identify a less than brilliant builder among you. ** (and I have NO CLUE what KSB stands for?  You must have to be in the inner sanctum of LEGO nerdery to know this true meaning?)

Thank you for your time.  I am officially OD on L.E.G.O. (is that term allowed?) good night. 

All terms with a ** denotes that it was a definition derived from the Bricktionary at 

1. http://thebrickblogger.com  or
2. http://www.tabletownonline.com

Your welcome. Now, please, have 

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Well.  There are moments that happen in my life that cause me to pause and think, "This is a memory I will be talking about forever".  Probably a story I will torture my 12 grandchildren with for years to come.

You know the stories your grandmother has retold once a year for your entire life?  The stories you have to grin and bear through, nodding your head and gritting your teeth until it's over, pretending like you haven't head it told one. million. times.?!

Last week, I had one of those moments...a memory maker.  My (then) 4 year old son, CUT my daughters hair. With scissors.  In the bathroom.  Without my knowledge.  I was devastated.

This would be his guilty look...

First off, for those who do not know.  My daughter was born with a ponytail.  Literally, the day she was born, I gathered all the little hairs on the back of her head and tied them up with my ponytail holder and took a picture (a picture that is lost on my other computer) so I could prove to her she was born with enough hair to make a real ponytail. Below I posted a picture of her the day she was born, so you will believe me.  There was even MORE hair in the back of her head. 

 (btw... she was 10 days late.  I always joke that she came out hairier than a little monkey bc she was "over done".  My friends can attest, she even had hair on her ankles and shoulders.  It was creepy.  [Don't worry, she is normal now.])

Okay... so my daughter was born with a lot of hair.  yadda yadda yadda.  Well.  The older my daughter got, the harder it was for me to bear the thought of cutting her hair.  In my mind I felt like she was still to little for a "hair cut", and I liked piggy tails, buns, and pony tails. (Even if she did look like Mel Gibson in the Patriot half the time.  She was so cute, it didn't matter.)  

For Christmas I asked the grandparents to get her a pretend hair styling set, you know the ones that come with a blow dryer, fake curling iron and brush?  Lolli, my husband's mom, went above the call of duty and bought Zadie a Melissa and Doug "Hair Stylist Costume Role Play Set".  (Because Melissa and Doug is the Cadillac line of all children's toys, right!?) It included all the fun stuff I was anticipating, PLUS a fake pair of scissors, so the kids could "ROLE PLAY" the hair stylist.   Why didn't my Mommy Radar kick in and say.... Alert! Alert! Alert!!!  Playing with ANY type of scissors will lead to nothing but trouble?!?!  

Well, actually it did... but she was so darn cute pretending to cut people's hair.  She would even ask you to pay her afterward, and she made 2 DOLLARS in change in 1 week!!!  My heart would melt every time I would sit on the floor and allow her to cut my hair with her "role playing" scissors, and then I'd have to find a penny in the couch cushions to make her continue.  

A lazy afternoon, one week after Christmas, I was home with the 3 kids.  I was in the living room holding the baby, the other two were playing together.  They were playing their favorite "role playing" game, Tony Stark and Pepper.  Daxx, assuming the role of Tony and Zadie playing Pepper (of course).  Tony had to get ready for the day, so he needed a brush and some detangler.  (What man doesn't use detangler everyday?!)  He opened the bottom drawer in our bathroom cabinet and got out his supplies with Pepper right on his tail.  As he was fixing himself up to hop into his "Iron Man" suit for a day's work, Pepper discovered the scissors in the back of the drawer.  And of course she thought, "Oh... Scissors.  Hair Stylist. Yes.  I need my hair cut.  Now!".  So Pepper handed Tony the scissors and said, "Will you please cut my hair?".  

Meanwhile, here I am, sitting in the living room, proud and puffed up because my children and playing together!!  No one is screaming, crying, or fighting over toys.  I am looking at my cute baby who is cooing and being oh-so-cute and all of a sudden...everything in my house goes silent.  It's as if someone hit the mute button on my life and then I hear... SNIP. SNIP. SNIP.  

Immediately, I scream, "FREEEEZZZE!!  Stop Now!!  Put. the. SCISSORS. down.!!!!  NOOOOooooo!" (Oh, and I basically throw my infant to the ground and he starts screaming bloody murder because he's terrified)

I run in slow motion to the bathroom.  And, this is what I find.... 

2 children and a large pile of hair in the middle of the bathroom floor.  

The damage was done.  My daughters precious hair was chopped off.  Though I could swear I heard 3 snips, I only spotted 2 chunks missing from her hair in the back.  (Maybe God spared her from the 3rd snip!  A modern day miracle, possibly?)  After a thorough examination, I realized the chunks were big enough to call in the reinforcements for some damage control.  

The rumor is that "she told him to do it".  No one got in trouble.  I think it was a result of the "Role Playing they had been doing for the last month with Zadie's new toy.  I will say, they both received a long talk about scissors and how we NEVER. EVER. cut hair or anything else, unless Mommy or our teacher tells us to. 

I later made an appointment for Zadie Bug to get a real hair cut.  She went to see our friend Chelsea and my-oh-my does she look cute.  

I am not sure why I waited so long to cut her hair.   Maybe I was holding onto that long hair for my own sake rather than hers.  This cut is not only cute, but it doesn't get in her face; and as a bonus, she no longer looks like Mel Gibson in the Patriot (or Braveheart, as her "before picture" below resembles).  

She did grow up a little more, but she was ready.   Maybe I wasn't ready, but she was.