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.  ;)  

We Can Not Let the Silence of a Kid Occupied by an iPhone Fool Us..Put on Your Parent Pants and Say NO.

Disclaimer: The words said here are those of my own convictions.

A few months ago, on a normal weekday afternoon, the littles were sleeping and I was trying to "get stuff done" around the house.  Sunlight was beaming through the windows, peace ringing in the halls with the sound of sleeping children.  Warmth filled rooms and my clean floors glimmered as I dug through the junk mail that had piled up on my desk in our bedroom.  As I sorted the mail: junk, junk bill, junk, bill, bill, bill, my (then) 4 year old son was crouched on the floor, a cords length from the wall playing a game on "his iPhone", with a cracked face and scratched metal back.  Suddenly, his words pierced my ears, "I am going to KILL you" he whispered intensely under his breath, eyes zoned and locked on the three inch screen.  Time froze as I lifted my eyes from the messy piles of mail and looked over at him, then I began to process what he had said.   My tender heart was ripped in half as the heaviness of his words set in.  "I am going to kill you"??  Did he really say this?!?  Did those words leak out of my innocent son's mouth.... before my very own eyes?  In the walls of my protected home?"

Inside I came to a screeching halt, stopping at a crossroads in parenting, and it was one that demanded a choice of me.  A decision that would require effort, surveillance, and a little (eh-hem, cough, cough...) parenting.   I wanted to pretend I didn't hear those words.  I wanted to tell myself he was just kidding.  Thoughts flooded my mind like, "he is just a boy playing a game", "he didn't really mean he wanted to "kill" something", "this is all harmless play". But, alas, my conscience is not easily fooled.  I knew I had to put my big-momma-foot-down and make a stand in our family and say, "It is NOT okay to desire the death of anyone, not even those we deem as enemies. In real life and in a video-game-fantasy-world."  Something is innately wrong with words such as these coming out of a young boys mouth, a 4 year old people!    

I walked over to him, sitting on the floor.  I knelt down, reached my hand out and asked him to hand me his phone.   After he reluctantly relinquished the thin heavy phone into my hand,  I sat down and asked him what he meant when he said, "I want to kill you".  He said that he had to kill the character, (who happened to be Sandman) to get to the next level of the game.  He explained how he was stuck on this same level, and unless he killed this character, he would not advance.

Then, we got into a discussion about how "we" can never desire to kill someone, and this passion is not pleasing to God, not in the least bit.

What was my four year old son's reply to this philosophical thought you ask??  ....   He looked at me with the most serious face he could muster up and said, "Well Mom.  They don't actually die.  They fall down, turn invisible, and the invisible police come and take him to a jail..."

Well played, four year old son.  Well played.  (We are never too young to justify sin.)

That night Denver and I talked about it, about the intensity that games like this brings out in our son, and how emotionally connected he feels with the unfolding plot. We agreed on different aspects, and disagreed on others, but, we had to come head to head about what our nuclear family was going to allow and not allow in our home when it comes to media, games, and technology.

When we had our first born, iPhones were not on the market, the iPad was a distant thought and video games were played either on the computer or on a gaming system that sat in the living room of most homes, not in the pockets of 4 year olds.  Travel gaming systems existed, and educational systems were just "breaking ground" in middle income American households. This was not a conversation we had planned for... "Should our son play games on iPhones and iPads... what if it's innocent killing like superheroes and LEGO games? ... What are the lasting effects of this type of exposure at such a young age...??"  <--- ALL things we never had thought through.

Growing up, my family was always on the cusp of technology.  Our first Nintendo system came home when I was in first grade, I remember walking back to the sacred technology department of Wal-mart and picking it up.  We played every level of the original Mario Bros., we fell in love with Yoshi and drove a mean Mario Kart.  The Game Genie answered all our life's problems and we loved the paintball setting when playing Golden Eye on the N64 with friends.  I got my first AIM account in 8th grade, and was a senior in college when my University was prestigious enough to have "Facebook".  I downloaded thousands of songs on Napster (okay maybe hundreds) and remember the first viral video I watched of David Hasselhoff singing "Hooked on a Feeling" in my sorority house long before the days of YouTube.

When I was four, I played with roly-pollies and made mud pies all summer.  I played Mommy and Doctor, saving lives in my spare time, not dreaming of them to end.

My generation has grown up trusting in technology to fill our spare time, to schedule our events and build our friend list, but listen 30 somethings.... we CANNOT ALLOW IT TO PARENT OUR CHILDREN.

Over time our love affair with technology has set deep roots. As we have grown and matured, so has technology.   The Mortal Combat Game that your Mom was scared of at Crystals Pizza has nothing on the games that kids play today in our homes and around our dining room tables.   I am not ignorant, I know that this has been a problem for many years.  I understand that children have played games like this, but how young is too young?

Mothers, Fathers, Aunts, Uncles, Friends, Neighbors, Grocery-Store-Checker-Outers (Pretty much I am including everyone here!)... we have to take a stand and not let the complacency of a child occupied by a game overshadow our responsibility to guard the hearts of our children.  Our children are inclined to like things that are not good for them, they have a natural pull towards darkness because we live in a broken world.  To not recognize this is just what the enemy wants from us....

So after that conversation Denver and I set up a few guidelines that we have when it comes to games on media devices.  We decided that saying NO to every game and gaming system would be extreme in the world we live in.  If we expect our child to function well in their generation they will have to have some experience with media, but it is our responsibility to guide that endeavor.  This is what we decided on.  2 simple rules.

1:  No games that KILL- Period.  Nope.  None.  Zilch.  Zip.  

2:  Small increments of exposure-  Right now we set our timer for 20 minutes of "game time".   We feel in this time frame no obsessive tendencies can become habitual.  This is something that must be weighed for each child.  My son is more inclined to spend 4 hours on the iPad if left unattended, where as my daughter wouldn't spend more than 20 minutes on it if I begged her.

It took me months to gain the courage and come up with the words to post this.  For one I was embarrassed to admit that this had even happened in my home on my watch and secondly it is such a touchy topic.  Your convictions might not be the same as mine, and I AM OKAY WITH THAT.  We must each live in the light of our individual convictions and this happens to be something that God is working out in our family right now.  

We highly value the truth that Psalm 19:14 holds for us as adults and for our children.  "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer."  As a parent in this situation I have the responsibility to expose the ugly places that sin creates in the hearts of my children.  If I recognize them and turn my head or choose to not confront it, I am only allowing it to fester and become a larger problem for them in the future.  

Thank you for reading and PLEASE feel free to comment and share what works best in your family because we are always looking for new ideas on how to approach technology's intrusive invasion of our home.

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.  :) 

Reciving Grace on the Horrible-No-Good-Very-Bad Days of Motherhood

Its a hard job living out your faith.  It's an even harder job to train up your children in a household of faith; especially when it's run by sinners, mistake-makers, yellers, temper-losers, and just-trying-to get-by-ers.

Yesterday was one of those horrible-no-good-very-bad-days that come to pass in Mommyhood.  By 8:29 am (Because I actually looked and the clock when this thought entered my mind.) I had already had enough.  I had enough "Mommy, will you (insert demand)",  "Mommy, she (insert tattle)", "Mommy, get me (insert any inanimate object of your choice {I have heard them all})"... I was already tired of the name MOMMY before 8:30 had ticked by.   It didn't help that my oldest was home from school with pink eye AND I had to start him on eye drops 5 times a day for 5 days, AND my other two children had to participate for precautionary measure... (after the math, that will total 75 eye drops for the next 5 days... knowing I had this task ahead of me I was already ticked off  because I was now aware that I will be fighting the ominous "Battle Eye Drop" for the next 5 days...talk about a Debbie Downer on your Monday Morning!!! BOOOOO for Eye Drops!)  

So, needless to say I started my day off on the wrong foot.  I took that little tangible piece of justified self pity and let it form a cloud over my day that set the forecast for gloom.

Because of my passive aggressive rebellion against the eye drops I was a woman on a mission.  A mission to make everyone else's day as miserable as mine.  Since the mother is considered the "thermostat to her household" let's say I set the temp low... bone chilling low... and my children followed suit.  There was impatient moments, there were tears, there was frustration acted out in aggression, and then there were more tears.

My favorite line from yesterday's chaos...

Zadie: "Daxx pushed me!"

Me: "Daxx did you push your sister?"

Daxx:  "Well, no.  At least not with my hand." (That's okay because pushing with other appendages or objets is acceptable. not.)

(Have you ever had days like this, or am I alone?)

Since steam was already shooting from both ears before noon, both the littles were in bed for their naps at 11:30... which was an hour and a half earlier than normal.  I had all of 2 minutes of peace and quiet until that plan backfired and I had crying coming from one room and the other getting out of her bed every other minute...  (My blood is boiling just typing this!!  I loathe spoiled nap times.) 

So.  What do you do when it's 12:00 and you aren't sure if you can survive until BEDTIME?

I couldn't go back to bed.
I couldn't leave the house.
I couldn't lock myself in the bathroom.

In this weeks reading in our Mom's group at church the author talked about 4 crucial cultivation tools in parenting:

• Modeling
• Teaching
• Training
• Grace

I read that last night, after my horrible-no-good-very-bad-day and I was totally convicted, yet at the same time totally thankful. I love that the author added GRACE in her list.  Because guess what, that's what I need, as a parent, the most.  Grace. 

After my husband came home from work yesterday I took 20 minutes in my room by myself to regroup.  I needed to come out of that room a different woman.  So.  I made conscious decision to get through the rest of the night and wake up tomorrow and start over.  Freely receiving the grace to do so. 

After I came out, I cooked dinner, we ate at the table.  At the table we reflected on our day.  

Me: "Mommy did not have a good day today did she?"

Daxx: "No, none of us had a good day...but Mom we can start over tomorrow."

And that's what we will do.  We will start over tomorrow, receiving Grace for today, teaching our children to make amends where they need to be made and modeling how to do so.  Hopefully yesterday I taught my kids that we all make mistakes, we all have bad days, but it doesn't give us permission to treat others around us poorly.  Its is okay to apologize and it's okay to receive grace and start over new each day.  Isn't it cool that God gives us "days and nights" as a point of reference to start anew?  Thank.You.Jesus.  

Thanks for Reading!

This post is Linked Up to Doing You Well Wednesday #12 at "Prowess and Pearls"

Where there is no vision, the people parish...

Lately, I have been reading through the book, "Finding Your Purpose as a Mom" by Donna Otto with a group of women at our church.  We are 5 or 6 weeks into the study and it dawned on me that I have never intentionally explored my role as a mother and home-maker.   I have done many-o-study on having a healthy marriage, or being a better friend, having courage, or breaking chains... but  have never taken an intentional Biblical look at my role as a Mother.  (Side Note: I say the word "Home Maker" not as a job title, because even women who work, are essentially still the ones who "make the home" for their families.  I just don't want to confuse that phrase with the "job title" some SAH mother's give themselves.) (Moving on.)  I have really enjoyed this book and digging to the roots of motherhood and my role in my home.

First off, I think society has put the cart before the horse when it comes to our homes.

Girls, we must take back our homes from Pinterest, we must take back our homes from HGTV, we must take back our tables from The Food Network.  Instead of spending hours preparing the perfect croque monsieur (which is a fancy French grilled cheese) to present at our dining room table, we must first have a vision for the laughter, the manners, the conversations that are to be had there!!  The beautifully painted canvases and charming mason jars mean nothing if you do not have bonds of friendship and trust between family members.   I would choose a self confident child over a hand made "quiet book" on Pinterest that took me 16 hours to make.

When you close your eyes and picture a vision of your home, does it go deeper than the color of the walls, the dream of marble counter tops and the smell of Ina Garten cooking her famous slow-roasted-filet-of-beef-with-garlic-parmesan-mayonnaise in your kitchen?  (which sounds kinda gross to me, but I googled "popular Ina Garten recipes" and this was at the top of the list...)

I am going out on a limb here and sharing something with you that I feel is a little private...."My Vision".  Nothing is on this list that I want to hide from you, and maybe it will be an encouragement to someone.... so I am posting it anyways.  (I still feel like I am sharing a page out of my diary with you; your'e welcome.)


This is my vision for my house.  Sketched out for all to see.  You may agree with it, you may not... that's okay with me.  (that rhymed, *sigh*) Your vision for your home might be completely different, or it might look parallel to my own.  But, the question I am going to ask you is:

Have you purposefully and intentionally mapped out a vision for your household?

Until last week, my answer was "no".  I would defend that "no" with excuses like:

• My vision is in my head...
• I want it to be full of love (and warm fuzzies), laughter and joy... (the more vague the better)
• The vision for my house is ever changing... 

But to be frank, I had never been asked to write my vision down, and I have never had enough self discipline to do it on my own, I am too busy washing clothes and changing diapers!!  In chapter 4 of Finding Your Purpose As a Mom, the author asks you to specifically map out a vision for your house hold.  She asks you to ask yourself questions like:

• What does it smell like?
• What do people notice when they walk in your home?
• What is heard in your home?
• Who do you want to see in your home?

Questions I haven't let enter my mind.  Besides my husband, I am solely responsible for setting the tone and the atmosphere of my home.  This task is up to me, and me alone.  There are few things in this expansive world that are totally dependent on me, and my home is one of them.  Am I viewing it with this much importance?   I have been viewing the "keeping of my home" as a chore, rather than a responsibly or a privilege, and to be completely transparent I haven't really had an "end goal" in mind.  I am in need of a serious reformation.

This last weekend we went to my husband's grandparent's house for the day.  The drive is around 45 minutes and since I have had motherhood, homemaking, parenting, etc at the forefront of my mind I started to consider his grandmother's home.  

His grandparents live on approximately 5 acres in a valley nestled outside of a small town in southern Oklahoma. It is the epitome of peaceful.   Mammy (his grandmother) is an avid gardner and in the summer time you are greeted with overflowing impatience and caladiums.  She is also a talented home decorator, in her day she would probably have given David Broomstead a run for his money on HGTVs "The Next Design Star".  She has perfectly hand picked every decoration, piece of furniture, and picture hanging on the wall with intention and purpose.  They live frugally, but have an abundance of wealth.  Their relationships are rich, their hospitality priceless and their love is genuine.  The moment you walk in the front door you are greeted with a smile and warm embrace, you smell the fresh clean air, and you could eat the comfort up with a spoon.  If his grandmother has any forewarning that you are coming over, something is baked and waiting for you. As the homemaker, she has created a legacy within the walls of her home.  This atmosphere of peace does not happen by chance.  She has poured years of her life into her family and her home, making great sacrifices along the way because she knows those whom she loves are worth it.  

My husband's grandparents have been married 55 years (I think?), and her home is still ministering to people.  (specifically to me)  Her vision for her home did not stop when her children grew up, married and moved out of the house.  Her relationship with her grandchildren runs deep because the time and energy she invested in them, opening her home to them for weeks in the summers, and attending nearly every sporting event each of them had.  Now that she has great-grandchildren, her home is filled with new toys for babies, toddlers and kids.  In the summer, they fill up the kiddy-pool days in advance so the water can be warm upon the kids arrival.  Her home is her ministry.  (And as a side note his grandpa is a saint, but I am specifically focusing on the womans' role in the homemaking today) 

Do you know someone with a home like this?  A home that someone has poured their life into?  A home that is grander than a house, one that exudes acceptance, grace, and love the minute you walk in.  A home that ministers?  (I know of several, this one has just been on my mind recently) 

Proverbs 29:18 says "Where there is no vision the people parish."  Maybe this is why the "family" has perished in our society.  As mothers and as fathers we have neglected to sit down and make a vision for our homes, a vision for our family, a vision that extends past the years our children are at home?  The culture we live in requires our nose to be constantly on the grindstone and when it comes to our families, either we are too busy to be intentional, or we are just too.dang.tired.  (I understand! Mee tooo.)  We must pause and consider to what destination we are leading our families?  That direction directly affects the generation you are raising and can set a path for future generations to follow.  You, as a parent are the catalyst in your small nuclear family, where are you taking them?

Let's get serious for a second.  Would you be aimless, half-hazard or reckless if you were given a longterm task at work?  

NO

If you were starting your own company, would you write our a 15 page business plan? (Well, you would have to if you were applying for a loan.)  

If someone tasked you with planning a community wide event; the planning process begins with a vision, and then it takes months and months to execute.  

Or say you were given a longterm goal to reach, would you sit down, map out where you want to go, and devise a plan on how you will get there? Of course you would. 

Maybe you respond by saying, "Um, hello Heather... I am NOT a CEO or an event planner, or a community strategist.  Why is that relevant?"  

I respond by asking, how much more significant are our homes and families than the "important" events, goals or businesses these jobs are created for?  If an "event" requires that much planning and forethought, shouldn't we put a tiny amount of mental effort into the strategic planning of our homes? 

In Donna Otto's book, she provides an example of how to map out the vision for your home.  I simply started by drawing a little house in the middle of a piece of paper.  From that I listed the things I most wanted to see happening in my house.  The smells, the noises, the sounds.  Some of them will not be a reality, like "no trash" or "no plies", but it is a vision I have, nonetheless.  (I value a clean and open house, over clutter and junk; that is my preference.)   When putting pen to paper, I dug through memories I had as a child, experiences I have had as an adult, things I value, people I love and I considered what I want my children to remember, and what I want my future granddaughter-in-law to feel as she walks through my doors.

I challenge you to do the same.  Write out the vision you have for your home.  It can look like mine, it can be a list, it could be an interpretive dance if you are so inclined, but do it.  DO. IT.

It sounds cheesy, (I know, I felt that way too.) but it is therapeutic and so helpful.

Thanks for reading.

2 final thoughts: 
- You don't have to be married or have children to have a vision for your home.  Young couples, one parent homes, grandparents or singles should have a home with a purpose, just as much as homes with small children should.
-I am sure over time, my vision will evolve to fit the needs of my maturing family, but for now: this.is.my.vision.

Self Sacrifice Through the Eyes of Motherhood

Do you ever have times when God gently slaps you in the face with the same lesson 3 or 4 times in a row.  Then finally after the 3rd or 4th smack you realize that HE might be trying to make a point... Yep.  That has been me this last week.  God has slapped me right upside the head, gently, albeit still a slap.

I mentioned before that I had been reading through the wonderful book, Finding Your Purpose as a Mom, by Donna Otto.  This week I finished chapters 3-4 and also did some extra reading on the side, along the lines of motherhood.  Lately, God has really brought me to a place of refocusing my role as a mother and a wife.  This path came as a complete surprise to me, as I have shared before.  I thought I had this "motherhood" gig figured out, but obviously I had some fine tuning that needed some attention.

Can I be honest?  (Yes, Heather, this is YOUR blog... )  Well, sometimes I feel like I am made for grander things than parenting.  (I know.  Gasp if you may.)   But there are times when I picture myself far away from home, scaling the Himilayas with a baby strapped to my back so I can stumble upon a village of blind people  and fit them all with glasses or I was meant to be giving "those other pair of TOMS that I purchase when I purchase a pair for myself" away to someone in Africa.  (Seriously though, who has that job?!?  How cool.  Sign me up!)  The humanitarian and adventurer in me begins to twitch just typing this.

When my mind wanders and I "go there" for just a minute, I have a teensy pity party, but God is good and HE gently takes me by the shoulders and leads me back to my reality.  Quietly, He shows me how great of a work HE is doing in me and in my house because I am being obedient to this seemingly simple, yet significantly influential calling.  Motherhood.

Being a successful parent requires multiple attributes, but the 2 that are being sharpened in me during this season are: discipline and self-sacrifice.

Just reading those words makes me want to grit my teeth and RUN in the opposite direction, but instead I must look them boldly in the eyes and say..."Okay.  Let's do this!".

"self-sacrifice through the eyes of motherhood"

Yes. Yes. Yes.  Motherhood is thankless, it is ugly, it is booger-y, it is wrapped in a dirty diaper and handed to you on a tray with moldy cheese and curdled milk.   No matter if you are home all day long, work part time or full time, have 1 kid or have 8 children motherhood is a HARD JOB.  (Especially if you have a nursing baby, amen?!)  Not one mother out there has it easy.  No one.  So, automatically before you make a conscious decision to "sacrifice your self" for your children, they have already TAKEN a piece of you and ran. (And probably left fingerprints and crumbs in the process! ARG!)  (Is it called a sacrifice when you have no choice?!)

I love the following scripture:

Romans 21:1- Therefore, I urge you brothers (and "Mothers") in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual act of worship.


Okay.  Pause.  Put that in your back pocket as we dig a little deeper here.


In church when we are called to "lay down our life", "pick up our cross daily", or to "offer yourself as a living sacrifice", we sit in the pew and genuinely consent that this is our duty as followers of Christ.  We instantly agree to putting our desires and dreams for our life behind us to actively pursue Christ's call. And we do it with a smile.  Period.
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...LIES...
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Why do I know this is a lie?!  First and foremost if the entire church did this, we would LOOK insanely different to a lost world.  It is almost ridiculous to agreeably commit to this lifestyle because it goes against every grain of our being.  We have a selfish ambition, we live in a self pleasing, self seeking, self obsessed culture, and.that.is.why.we.need.Jesus.   It is hard to live counter culturally.  Guess what, that's okay, and sometimes to admit something is difficult can be freeing and liberating.  (Girls, Satan wants us to suffer in silence, and hates it when the body of Christ can experience unity.)

When God finally brings us to that place of living a "sacrificial life" we can respond many ways.  One way is to kick and scream and want someone to rescue us IMMEDIATELY, or we will willingly place our lives on the alter, EXCEPT we want to be wrapped in flashing Christmas lights with a giant neon arrow pointing to us saying, "#1 SACRIFICE" or "LOOK AT ME, WHAT A SACRIFICE I AM MAKING!" for all the world to see.

Mmmm, you mean it's kinda like when God calls us to a role that is overlooked, under paid NOT PAID, and thought of as an obligation (eh-hm, motherhood) we cross our arms and stomp our feet because NO ONE is thanking us and patting us on the back for a job well done?  We fight against the desire to be validated, affirmed and doted on, because this IS our human nature.  This is the battle between spirit and flesh.

Matthew 26:41- "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the message translation of Romans 12:1-2 (the verse I quoted earlier) (Did I mention I LOVE it!?)

"So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. (embrace it Heather, DON'T FIGHT IT!) Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you."

YES!!  Take my everyday ordinary life God.  Take my tiny house, take my budgeted grocery list and off brand bread, take the time I spend reading your Word to my children, take my unshowered body and greasy hair, take my walgreens makeup and Fructise shampoo, take my dirty kitchen floors and very stained loved couch, take my TV antenna and mostly take my GIANT MOUNTAIN OF LAUNDRY, take these things that I am doing and living everyday, TAKE MY LIFE and I offer them to you as a living sacrifice so that you may do your will IN me.

Yes.  I may want to buy all my make up at the MAC counter, but I cannot.  I am a mother.
Yes.  I want to get a pedicure and manicure once a week (let's throw in a weekly massage too) but I cannot.  I am reading with my kids because I am a mother.
Yes.  I want cable.  But I cannot afford it because I am a mother.
Yes.  I want a clean house that is decorated like pottery barn (but with wall paper and dishes from Anthropologie)  But I cannot.  I am a mother.
Yes.  I want to go to Europe, Hawaii and Africa.  But I cannot.  I am a mother.
Yes.  I want to sleep 10 STRAIGHT HOURSE EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. But I cannot.  I am a mother.
Yes.  I want to go out to eat for every single meal.  But I cannot.  I am a mother.
Yes.  I want to wear expensive clothing, wear high heels, work out in cute yoga pants and take a hot shower.  But I cannot.  I am a mother.

(you get my point...)

Colosians 3:23- 

Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people tiny children.

These dreams, these desires, these wants... I lay them at your feet, Lord.  I embrace the role I have been given.  I will not pout, I will not look to the mother on my left or my right and dream of her life, I will not make mountains out of mole hills, I will live in peace with my neighbor.  I accept this life and I will let YOU make it great.

As hard as the sheep fought against the Shepard as he laid him on the alter, we fight equally hard against the Lord.  Scripture does not say, to "sacrifice" yourself, instead it says to "OFFER" yourself.   The worship is not about being the sacrifice, it is about the journey to the alter.  

Today am I fighting God to the alter?  Or today am I being lead readily and quickly?

And they are SOOO WORTH IT!! !
XOXOXOXO

Thanks for reading.  

The big chop

This past Wednesday we encountered a few traumatic minutes at the Duncan house.   We were having a normal peaceful day.  The kids were being themselves.  Zadie played all morning, Dutch was a little cranky, but he is teething, so that is to be expecting.  

About 3:00 I got Dutch up from his nap, I laid him down to change his diaper when I noticed a wad of hair wrangled around his little middle toe.  I went to pull the hair out, and as soon as I touched it, Dutch let out a loud scream, yanking his legs up.  Immediately, I knew this was going to take a little more effort and upon examination I realized that the wad of hairs was wrapped around, around, around, around and around hit teensy toe.  

My mind was reeling with thoughts, and within a few short seconds I pictured Dutch in high school, running track with a missing toe.  (I am not sure why I pictured him on the track?)  My heart sank and I burst into tears because the fate of my babies toe was to be determined in the next few minutes or hours... (This is the panic I felt at least.  I know it wouldn't have fallen off, but it goes to show you how ones mind can race so quickly!) 

I immediately called the nurse triage unit at our pediatricians office and left a message.  Then I called my husband, and he laughed at me.  He told me to simply pull the hairs out from between his toes, but what he couldn't see was the more I pulled the hairs to free the toe, the tighter they wound.  (My poor baby!!)  Luckily he works just a few minutes away from our house, so because of my panic, he came home to free the toe. 

He walked through the door and I was standing at the door holding Dutch. He pulled up his toe, and immediately began yanking the hair off.  He had no concern that the hair would slice into his skin, it seemed as if he could not hear the screaming coming from our poor child; he was in "rescue mode".   In a few short seconds he had the toe freed, and was in his car back to work.  

So because of this little toe incident (after I called the pediatrician to cancel my message to the nurse) I picked up the phone and called my trusty hair cutter person... And scheduled an appointment to chop off my hair.  

Because of this nasty post pregnancy shed I have been meaning to cut my hair for some time.  Hairs are floating around our house like leaves falling in late September.  It's all pretty gross. As beautiful as my long locks were, it was time to put the health and cleanliness of my family above my vanity and chop it off.  (Plus, it took almost 30 minutes to blow-dry, I have NO time for that!)

Below is my instaframe collage of the whole experience.  I think it pretty much sums it up.  

Thanks for reading. 

Left: Before shot
Right: After shot 

A Holy Home

I have read countless "how to" books on parenting.  Some I have included:

• Baby's First Year- My baby manual for Daxx,  before I discovered Google (this was 5 years ago!)
• Baby Wise- Screwed me up royally, I loath this book.  Key points I agree with but it created a lot of stress in my life.  I had to let go of that dream.  Release, Heather, release.  
• Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Baby- LOVE
• Happiest Baby on the Block- LOVE
• Have a New Kid in 7 Days... I needed this.  It worked!
• Parenting with Love and Logic- yup.  Thats hard to do, but worth it.
• Bringing Up Boys- Chalk full of great advice
• The Strong Willed Child- Again, a classic. 

Okay... So.  You get my drift. I have done my fair share of "parenting reading" in the last 5 years.  This list does not include the bazillion blog posts, online articles or other various media paraphernalia that I have laid my eyes on regarding bringing up my children.  I am an achiever.  I like to do a good job at whatever task I am handed.   Add that fact on top of the nerdy research lover in me and you have someone who probably over educates themselves on a few subjects, one being "parenting".

DISCLAIMER: I am not the perfect parent, will never be the perfect parent, I need Jesus like everyone else. 

Moving on.

I recently joined a "Bible Study" group for moms at our new church and we are going through "Finding Your Purpose as a Mom" by Donna Otto.  Honestly, I joined the group so I could get to know a few women in our church.  I love fellowshipping with gals who are in the same phase of life as I am.  I like camaraderie, I like to swap scary stories of our children running with scissors, but living to tell about it. (I kid)  I committed to reading this book, but I had NO idea what was in store for me.  (I already knew everything, duh!?)

Last week, I downloaded the book (which is no longer in print BTW), and did my dutifully reading before class.  At the end of the chapter my socks were knocked off and I was left sitting on my couch with my jaw hanging open.  Totally convicted, totally moved and completely shocked at what God had shown me.  I was caught off guard by the Holy Spirit, in an area that I thought I was a veteraned expert in, 'raising young children'.  

The author brought up so many great points, I would have to just quote the entire chapter, but here are a few of the main themes that stuck to my ribs this week.  

1: My house is Holy Ground.  

That's right... My. House. Holy?!?  Has Donna Otto been inside of my house?!  (I think NOT!) When I think of a "holy" space, I envision stained glass, wooden pews, tall ceilings and... silence.  This is not my home.  The rooms are scattered with super heros, baby dolls, and jumperoos.  The halls are filled with noisy children, clashing swords, and lot's of laughter.  At first glance, this is not a sacred place.  

But, she says...

Just as Moses took off his shoes on Holy ground, "Take off your shoes, he is saying.  The place where you are cooking, cleaning, and raising the next generation is indeed holy ground because you are mine and your home is part of my plan for changing the world". 

Oh. My. Word.  My house, is part of HIS PLAN?!?  Wowzers, what an eye opening statement. (And then I pose this question to myself: Have I been conducting my house in a manner that is worthy for God to use?!  CRINGE)   Recently, I admit, my accomplishment is just making it through to the end of the day.  Are all children fed? Check.  Is everyone clothed? Check.  Are we all alive?! Check.  Now that Dutch is 7 months old, it is time to get my butt in gear and be more intentional.  

"Intentional thinking is important because I think much of our culture has fallen into the assumption that home will just take care of itself...And, I think that countercultural thinking is absolutely crucial because our current American culture tends to be absolutely clueless and perverse in the way it views our home life and motherhood.  We live in a society that features entire cable channels about "house Beautiful" (HGTV) whetting our appetites for homemade bread and crisp, fragrant hand embroidered sheets..." And just think, this book was written BEFORE Pinterest and BEFORE Facebook!  How much more are our appetites whetted for a color coordinated house and fresh baked cookies?! 

(Do I spend more time on Pinterest than I do in the Word?!)

We must view our homes with so much seriousness, taking a stand again the schizophrenic culture that both idolizes and devalues the "home".  No matter if you are a mother who stays at home, or who works, when your family is together in your home, "Your Savior wants to use your life and your work and your role as a mom to change the world".

How humbling.  

We must shift gears from day to day thinking to having an eternal mindset. 

And no, this does not mean I will require silence in my home from now on, or that we will be in prayer 24 hours a day, or that my children will instantly become "angels" because our house is holy.  Nope, not going to happen.  But, it will cause me to have a bit more grace in training up my children, it will help me to be more intentional with my actions, it will cause my attitude about my "house" go beyond it's physical state and consider the value of the emotional and spiritual well being of my household. 

2: What ever is Good about God should be fleshed out in my home:

So, being contentious, short tempered and impatient are probably not attributes of God, huh?!  Good, because I am never that way and neither are my children.  Whew...

"We are called to look at our homes the way God sees them- as vital centers for accomplishing his work on earth.  Homes are tangible places where his love, mercy and righteousness are taught and practiced on a regular basis" 

So, am I practicing his love, mercy, GRACE, patience, and self-discipline with my children??  Am I modeling this behavior, and I teaching them how to be this way also?!  Are these qualities my priority?!  (They are NOW)

They. Must. Be.  It is my calling, as a mother, to be the one to teach my children these attributes of God by behaving in such a manner.  This alone is reason enough for me to draw near to God daily, because he is USING me to mold these children into who he wants them to be.  (no pressure, Heather) 

I cannot leave this awesome responsibility up to anyone else.  It only falls on me, and my husband, to instill these character qualities into our three precious children.  Netflix won't teach them, PBS kids will not teach them, their friends will not teach them, and (gasp) even the church will not teach them... it is only up to me.  The burden to "teach and practice" how live out these character qualities of God can only be full filled in the confines of my house.  Is my home conducive to such eternal work?!  The answer must be yes, and if it isn't, then changes need to be made.  Today. 

The priority of my house must not be home decor, gourmet foods, or organization... the ultimate priority must be for it to be a Holy place, a place intentionally created to raise up children WHO... 

• who are on fire for the Gospel
• who seek justice
• who love hard 
• who practice grace 
• AND who know God

These are the children I want to produce from my little house.  

These are just my thoughts on CHAPTER ONE... Can't wait to share what else I glean from this book. I can tell already it will be life. changing.  

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.