I Wasn't Born in the Jungle

This is one of my two big brothers, Bill.

Bill was seven years old when I displaced him as the youngest member of our family.  Despite our age difference, and the fact that he teased me mercilessly, I loved spending time with Bill.  Still do.

Some of my earliest memories of my brother Bill took place on a family vacation, when I was just a little squirt of 2 or 3 years.  My grandparents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, and took all their posterity on a cross-country road trip.  While I remember very little of any of the sightseeing we did along the way, I do remember sleeping in a pop-up trailer, near my brother, Bill.

This seemingly insignificant detail was made memorable by Bill's whispered revelations of our family's past, before we fell asleep each night in that pop-up trailer.  After all, he told me marvelous bits of family history previously unknown to me.  Until Bill told me all about it, I had no idea that--prior to my birth--our family had lived in the jungle.

Letters of Apology

Here in our little bit of Holland, we have good days, and we have bad days.  We have happy days, and we have sad days.  We have delightful days, and days that are downright trying.  In short, we're just like everyone else.

And, just like everyone else, I think my kids are pretty darn perfect.  Except when they're not.  Believe it or not, there are times when these children of mine get themselves into hot water.

Take the other day.  We were on our way home from church.  I wasn't feeling well.  The Bionic Man was really tired.  The two children in the backseat, on the other hand, were alive and well and telling the world just how good life was with some screechy singing.  Intentionally screechy singing.  The Bionic Man asked them nicely to please stop singing like that, because it was giving him a headache.  The screeching stopped briefly, only to begin again.  I reminded them of their father's request, and of our rule about not making sounds in the car that hurt people's ears.  It wasn't long before the screeching started up again.  The Bionic Man again told the children to tone it down.  And--once again, after a brief respite--we soon heard screeching from the back seat.

April Recap

This is by no means an exhaustive recap of the month of April.  Just a look at some of the fun we've had.  And, um, that doesn't mean the things that weren't photographed weren't fun, right?  Right.

My sister came to visit for Easter weekend.  Looking for someplace fun to take her that wasn't too far away, we took a chance and went to an Earth Day festival downtown.  A good time was had by all.  Probably because just about every booth at the festival was handing out freebies.  What's more green then FREE?

Bionic Man and Justone were fascinated by the hybrid vehicles.  Unfortunately, those weren't free.

Face painting, on the other hand, was free.

The Great Sort

There is a semi-annual ritual at our house each spring and each fall which I refer to as The Great Sort.

Sounds exciting, doesn't it?  A little like Hogwarts?  Unfortunately, there are no banquets or sorting hats involved, which might be nice.  The assistance of a sorting hat would be appreciated, and goodness knows I'm pro-banquet.  Note that I didn't say that, unlike Hogwarts, no witches or warlocks are involved in The Great Sort, because (also, unfortunately) I'm usually a witch by the time The Great Sort is over.  Frankly, there is really nothing great about the semi-annual Great Sort.

Evidence that I Gave Birth to Martha Stewart's Child

I think I could win a tabloid headline title competition with this one, don't you?

Those of you who know our family well know that Endeavor did not get her domestic abilities from me.  My limited domestic abilities have come to me slowly, over time.  Endeavor was born with them.

During Endeavor's infancy, I noticed that she had a strange fascination with paper.  She would seek out paper, no matter where I hid it, and shred it into tiny little pieces.  Or crinkle it into small, tight balls.  Or draw on it--because Endeavor always knew where the pens were, too.

It was only later that I realized that Endeavor was actually a talented papercrafter, her artistic expression limited in infancy only by the development of her small motor skills.

Random Thursday

Kids can be very, very funny.  Here are some things I've heard my kids and their friends say lately that I don't want to forget.

Justone:  (Said to me 1.5 hours before the school bus arrives.)  Um, Mom, all I need for school this morning is something I can wear that will make me look like a turn-of-the-century Russian immigrant who is a doctor and who is Jewish and works in America at Ellis Island.

The Train to Crazy

As if the tale of the Christmas tree that lasted 'til Easter wasn't proof enough.....here is more evidence that, here in Holland, we're just a little insane.

Luckily, we have a very patient dog.

Stuff and Things

This morning, after I'd asked him for the third time to take care of his "stuff" that was in the family room, Justone informed me that one if his teachers does not allow the children in her classroom to use the words "stuff" or "thing".  (Apparently, precision in language is extremely important to her.)  Aloud, I responded with a thoughtful, "Hmmmm," to this information, but inwardly, I had to wonder:

"What kind of lengthy word lists would I have to verbalize if I needed to eliminate the words "stuff" and "things" from my vocabulary?

Some examples:

"Bionic Man, when you come home tonight, we need to talk about some things  which one of us is going to attend the middle school orchestra concert while the other one attends den meeting, whether or not we should sign Justone up for hockey, and figure out if we have finished our Christmas shopping."

"Superkid, I'm about to vacuum in here.  Will you please pick up Hunter's stuff shredded blanket, chew toy, unstuffed Snoopy dog, chewed up yogurt container, chewed up paper cup, chewed up tissue, Snoopy stuffing, and favorite washcloth?"

"Justone, what is this thing wadded up collection of lint that smells strongly of old peanut butter and sweaty gym socks in the back of your closet?"

Obviously, less is more.  All mothers in favor of keeping the words "stuff" and "thing" in their vocabulary, cast your vote now.  And then we can all go do some stuff about another thing.

A Few Things I want to Share

1.  You know how I said I was completely swamped?  I'm still swamped.  The much needed TLC my house needs?  Haven't been able to give it yet, not even scratch the surface.  Why am I telling you this, instead of doing something about it?  Probably because misery loves company.  And I'm behind anyway.  And I'm very practiced in the art of procrastination.

2.  Just to confess and relieve my guilty conscious, despite everything I need to get done around my house, I managaed to find time yesterday to finish my book club book, North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell.  It's a book best read when the house is quiet (that Victorian dialogue requires undivided attention), but I loved it.  Mrs. Gaskell is a new favorite; I love her books even more than I love the BBC movie adaptations of her books.  If you don't have time for a difficult read, go find these adaptions:  North and South, Wives and Daughters, and Cranford.  (I found them for you, here.)  Watch them with tissues! 

3.  Somehow--don't ask me how, mostly it involves long stories you won't be interested in--I have myself scheduled to do the following over the next three days:  plan and host a cub scout pack meeting at my house, chaparone the fourth grade field trip, and single-handedly throw the first grade fall party. How and why I have myself signed up for all these things remains a mystery, even to me.

4.  Last week our schools had fall break.  The Bionic Man took time off from work, and we took the children on a surprise trip to St. Louis.  I packed in secret so they wouldn't suspect a thing, and the Bionic Man went into great detail about all the jobs he had for them to do during fall break.  They were thrilled to find themselves in St. Louis, instead.  Have you ever surprised your family this way?  I don't know if we'll ever get away with it again, but it was certainly fun to pull off.  I'll go into more detail on our trip another day, because there are great times to be had in St. Louis: it is a fantastically family-friendly city, with many free or low-cost activities.  Our children said that this place was better than Disney World. 

5.  Umm....did you catch that?  My children said something was better than Disney World?  That is the most incredible recommendation EVER, considering that we were sent to Disney World for Superkid's Make a Wish trip.  At Disney World, those children did not wait in a single line, got front row seating at every show, and special attention from everyone they encountered--from Tinkerbell to Buzz Lightyear.  If my children say something is more fun than Disney World, you'd better find out quick what it is.  In this case, it was also cheaper than Disney World.

6.  Remind me to tell you about our Make a Wish trip, sometime.  We are forever indebted to the Wish Foundation.  They really do know how to make wishes come true.

7.  And, while we are on the topic of good things.....Superkid did see a neurologist last week, and we definitely got some effective help, there.  The neurologist knew of a non-habit forming antihistamine that has proven to be really helpful for young children who suffer from migraines.  I'm so grateful!  We've had a week free of migraines since Superkid started taking it, despite all the migraine triggers that are par for the course with family vacations (motion of the car, late nights, change in diet, etc.).  That is HUGE!  I am thrilled.

8.  I made beef and vegetable soup last night, with whole wheat sourdough bread.  I even made a pumpkin-gingerbread pie for dessert.  I felt completely heroic, considering I also had bread rising on the countertop, had made all the phone calls I needed to, loaded the dishwasher, gone grocery shopping, survived a tornado (there is a trampoline on a garage roof just down the street), AND finished reading my book club book!  Apparently, I'm accomplished, but lacking in humility.  Lest you think me a paragon of domestic capability (that Victorian dialogue sucks me in every time) I shall inform you that there is a pile of unfolded laundry in my bedroom soon to be listed as the highest point of elevation in Indiana, and the pie was a mix I found at Aldi.

9.  I hereby promise to share my recipe for whole wheat sourdough bread with you very soon, because--guess what?--you can make it in your bread machine and you don't need to use a sourdough starter.  

10.  Superkid's official birthday was on Saturday.  She's 7 now.  Wow.  Today, while I was straightening up around the house, I found a little birthday card addressed to her.  It had been handmade by one of the children in her Sunday school class.  The outside of the card read, "Happy Birthday Superkid!" and was decorated with colorful balloons, party hats, and a cake.  Opening the card, I found a very detailed drawing inside: a hillside covered with flowers, and two stick figures.  It looked like there was a doorway into the hillside, with a big rock next to it.  The little artist who had drawn this picture had carefully labeled everything.  An arrow pointing to the flowers said "flowers".  An arrow pointing to the stick girl said, "Superkid".  Another arrow pointed to the stick man, "Jesus." And a fourth arrow identified the hill as "tombstone."  There were instructions: "Color it."  The very best part?  Next to the large letters that spelled "Happy Birthday Superkid" was the speech bubble coming from Jesus.  He was saying, "COME FORTH Superkid!"  Not to lesson the sweet, child-like faith of the little artist, but I had a good laugh over that one.  Isn't that the perfect birthday card?  Hallmark, take note!  Forget all the over the hill business, I say we go with, "You may be another year older, but you've got resurrection to look forward to.  Happy Birthday!"

11.  A friend stopped by with her little boy yesterday for a short visit.  Hunter the dog looked extremely disappointed when they departed.  I felt so sorry for him that, as our friends walked down the sidewalk, I lifted Hunter's paw up so that he could "wave" to them.  In the middle of helping my dog wave bye-bye, I realized that I was helping my dog wave bye-bye.  It's not like Hunter is some kind of little pomeranian....the dog weighs 50 lbs.....and I'm waving his paw?  It was a shocking moment.  I've become one of those people, apparently, who treats their dog more like a child than a dog.  Luckily, I don't know how to knit, so you don't have to worry about seeing me and the dog wearing matching sweaters. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go sew Hunter's Halloween costume. 

According to Superkid

 Superkid's favorite current phrase:  "Let's just say...." As in:

"Let's just say that today at school, I was so excited that they had chicken sandwiches for lunch."

"I know you want me to clean my room, Mom, but let's just say that cleaning my room is the last think I want to do right now."

"When I was out at recess, the craziest thing happened.  Let's just say that Jett asked me if I would be his girlfriend.  I know, it was so embarrassing.  I looked at him and, well, let's just say I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Jett, I don't like you that way.  Let's just say we'll be friends."

(To understand this next one, you have to realize that at our house, we refer to passing gas as "tooting.")

As we walked into church the other day, Superkid coughed.  I responded automatically, "Cover your cough, please."

She looked up at me and asked, "Okay, but do you want me to cover my toots, too?  Because one of those just slipped out while I was coughing."

Superkid's favorite new word: "Literally."  As in:

"I literally do not understand why I have to do homework right now."

"Before I got on the bus, I literally had to go to the bathroom really, really badly."

"There are literally no socks in my sock drawer.  Literally."

We were shopping at Target.  As I wheeled the car past the women's clothing section, a rack of sweater vests caught my eye.  They looked oh-so-very-hip for fall.  I was smitten, drawn towards them by an unseen force.  Justone and Superkid were with me, and were extremely concerned as they saw my hand reaching out towards the sweaters.  "Don't get that, Mom," Justone warned me.  "I don't like it."

"Yeah," Superkid chimed in, "Me too.  I don't like it."

Since neither of them likes tomatoes, either, I ignored them and put the sweater on to see how it looked in a nearby mirror.  Justone shielded his eyes.  Superkid groaned.  I looked in the mirror and groaned a little myself.  "Nevermind," I said aloud, removing the sweater.  "I guess I don't want it."

Superkid rolled her eyes.  "Mom, if you had just listened to us, you would have known you shouldn't get that sweater.  Let's just say it's just not your style."

"It's definitely not your style," Justone agreed.  "It's ugly."

"Just how do you two know what my style is?" I asked, slightly put out.  

"Oh, we know, Mom, we definitely know," Superkid said seriously, folding her arms across her chest.  "And I think we know better than you do."

By now, two women nearby had discreetly moved more closely towards us.  They were obviously all ears to our conversation.  I was beginning to be more than a little offended by my six-year-old's claims.  "Oh, really?"  I queried archly.  "And just how do you suppose you have a better idea of my style than I do, hmmmm?"

"Because I remember what it says on your style card," Superkid replied matter-of-factly.  "Which I'm pretty sure you've forgotten."

"My style card?  What style card?" I demanded.

Superkid sighed, and patiently began to explain.  "Let's just say, that before we are born on Earth as babies, while we are living in Heaven, we get our style cards.  We go to one of the stores there, in Heaven, and we pick out the style card we want.  It tells us everything we need to know about our style.  They are all different.  Then, we get born, and we start to forget things.  Most adults," she looked pointedly at me, "have completely forgotten what their style cards say.  But kids usually still remember because we haven't been away from Heaven so long.  And that is why sometimes we really, really want to wear things that you say don't match.  They are on our style cards.  And I remember that that sweater--" she pointed accusingly "--is not on your style card."

I couldn't argue with that.  But I did ask, "Superkid, how in the world did you learn all that?"

Superkid replied solemnly, "I prayed about it.  More than once.  And that was my answer."

So let it be written, so let it be done. 

Luck o' the Irish

I've always been a little confused by references to "the luck of the Irish."  Is that supposed to be some kind of unfortunate oxymoron?  (Hello, potato famine, civil war, those mischief making leprechauns that don't actually leave any gold.....)  Enlighten me, here.  Is the Irish luck a sarcastic joke, or are the Irish the most optimistic group of people the world has ever seen?  Then again, if I could wake up every morning to a view like this, I might feel pretty lucky, myself--potato blight or not.

 And, you have to admit, if you really don't like snakes, then you are pretty lucky if you get to live in Ireland.....as opposed to, say, Arizona.  Just ask my friend Charmaine about what she was "lucky" enough to find under her doorstep one day in Arizona.

I was lucky enough today to be able to find every member of the family something green to wear.  To top it all off (literally) it was hat day at our elementary school, so my three children needed hats, as well.  Could the school system just accept the fact that it is hard enough to deal with the wearing 'o the green, without designating it hat day, too?  

Kindergarten added to the delight of this lucky day by declaring it to be not only St. Patrick's day, but Rainbow Food Day, as well.  Superkid brought home a note on Monday informing me that she needed to bring a blue food to share with her class for Rainbow Food Day, divided into 24 individual serving sizes.  

"Blue.  Hmmm.  A blue food," I furrowed my brow as I studied the not.  "Oh, I know!" I enthused.  "Blueberries!  We'll send in a package of blueberries, and everyone in your class can take one," I told Superkid.

"But I don't like blueberries," Superkid said sadly.  "I won't get to eat my own food, because I don't like it."

"Blue corn tortilla chips!" Endeavor exclaimed.  She is always willing to help out with a brainstorming session.  "Just put them in sandwich bags."  Endeavor has lived with me for more than 10 years now, and knows that simple sells.

"But I don't like blue corn chips," Superkid reminded us, tears welling in her eyes.  

"Blue jello jigglers!"  Endeavor tried again.  

And blue jello it was, until Superkid came home from kindergarten, yesterday.  "Most of the kids in my class are bringing jello,"  Superkid informed me.  "I am afraid it is going to become an all jello Rainbow Food Day.  We have to find another blue food."

So, guess what I am going to do as soon as I finish this blog post?  I will be tinting vanilla yogurt with blue food coloring.  Vanilla yogurt is one of the only foods Superkid will eat.  I am going to put it in blue Dixie cups for added blue oomph.  Then I will be driving the blue vanilla yogurt to kindergarten, where it will participate in Rainbow Food Day.

I googled images of blue yogurt, and none of them were particularly appetizing,

so I'm giving you this, instead.  They say it is blueberry yogurt pie.  Interesting.

Do you think they eat it in Ireland?

And now, for some important blog business.  In the next three weeks, I am going to be a little swamped.  I have some stuff coming up.  I recently found out that my sinuses are a disaster.  Such a disaster, in fact, that I have to have corrective surgery.  And no, that is not another term for "I'm getting a nose job."  My nose will look the same on the outside, but hopefully inside it will be WIDE OPEN after Dr. Gutt does his job.  (By the way, "gutt" means "good" in German.  I find it comforting that Dr. Good will be performing my surgery.)  This delightful procedure will coincide with my children's spring break.  I have mound upon mound of laundry to tackle and meals to prepare ahead of time before next week's surgery.  My house is in desperate need of spring cleaning and some heavy-duty organization.  I haven't finished those Easter outfits.  

I tell you this so that you won't be surprised if I decide to take a brief blogging hiatus.  I'll come back in a couple weeks to report on spring cleaning, massive household restructuring and reorganization (wow....that sounds so corporate.....maybe there will be layoffs.....or new management?), and my new sinuses. 

Until then......

May the Irish hills caress you.

May her lakes and rivers bless you.

May the luck of the Irish enfold you.

May the blessings of St. Patrick behold you.

- An Irish Blessing

Superkid's Version: Away in a Manger

We still have some of our Nativity sets on display.  I collect Nativity sets.  I like to display them for as long as possible.  The Bionic Man likes to display our Christmas Tree for as long as possible.  It, too, is still on display.  What can I say.....we are very festive.

But back to the Nativity sets.  This is one of my favorites, a tiny Nativity that was given to us by my brother-in-law and his brother, after they visited us while we were living in Germany.  They bought it in Oberammergau, the home of the famous Passion Play.

But wait, what's this?  There is something a little strange about this Nativity.

Who has joined Mary and Joseph at the Manger?  Let's zoom in and take a closer look.

Hmmm.....that looks an awful lot like a Polly Pocket I know.  That's strange, I'm pretty sure Polly Pocket is not from Bethlehem.  Or Oberammergau.

This looks like the work of Superkid.

"Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

- Matthew 18:4

How did she know?

Yesterday was Monday.  As I've mentioned before, Monday is Family Home Evening at our house.  Last night, however, we weren't at home.  First, the entire family accompanied me to the doctor's office.  I'm going to live!  (Not that there was ever any question of that.)  No, seriously, I'm doing great.  Even though I'm still sore and slow.  Then, we made a trip to McDonald's for ice cream.  Before we returned home, our plan was to deliver Christmas goodies to some of our friends.  So, we made a bathroom stop before we began our deliveries.

This may not sound like the traditional Family Home Evening, but the point is that we were spending time together and there was ice cream involved.

Speaking of points, I'm not getting to the one I intended to fast enough.  My intended point is the following story:

As we approached the large, heavy, public restroom door, I considered my physical state.  I considered the door.  I was tired and achey.  I listened to Endeavor, who was trying to convince me that since she had no need for a restroom break, she should be allowed to stand outside and wait for her father and brothers (being male, they had probably already finished their business in the restrooms before we girls had even entered).  I considered the door again, and the possibility that there may be another heavy door beyond this one.  "No, Endeavor," I said, my decision made on all counts.  "I need you to join Superkid and I in the restrooms.  Because you can't wait outside by yourself, and because your mother is afraid she can't open this door by herself."

Endeavor grudgingly obliged, saying as she pushed open the restroom door, "Fine, Mom, I'll come and open doors for you. "

At this, Superkid looked up at her older sister and said seriously, "Mommy's superpowers have been weakened.  We have to do what we can to help her."

She's so on to me.  What was it that gave it away?  My lightening reflexes?  My laser vision?  Perhaps my ability to talk on the phone and measure out the ingredients for cookies simultaneously.  Whatever it was that tipped her off, I'll have to be more careful in the future.

And, speaking of SUPER.......

Best wishes to all of my fellow supermoms as you prepare your homes for Christmas!

Of Choirs, Mouthwash, and Superkid

Nice to see a few summer flowers on a cold, dreary day like today.

I had fun at church yesterday.  I'm always glad to be at church, but it isn't fun every Sunday.  This could quite possibly be because for the past while, the Bionic Man has not been able to sit with us during the congregational meeting.  He is in the bishopric (translation for non-Mormon readers: he is an assistant pastor) so he sits near the podium.  Many Sundays, just as I begin to enjoy the speakers, I see my husband wiggling his eyebrows and tilting his head in the direction of Superkid.....who, unbeknownst to me, is in the process of climbing over the pew, letting the baby on the pew in front of us feed her his cheerios, trying to somersault her way across the bench she is sitting on, or otherwise entertaining herself in some equally irreverent--not to mention dangerous--way.  The other two children have grown to be quite civilized during worship services, but Superkid still has a spirit that is too big to be contained quietly for long by her little body.

Anywho, perhaps it was the additional adult support on our bench provided by Aunt Lisa, who was visiting us for Thanksgiving.  She kept Superkid occupied during choir practice before church and during our congregational meeting.  (Thank you, Aunt Lisa!)  I really had a chance to listen to our speakers, and they had such well-prepared, insightful messages.  Always nice to walk out of the meeting feeling as if you've been to a spiritual feast.

Choir practice was fun yesterday, too.  Have I mentioned that I am the choir director?  I love being choir director.  It is so fun to tell people what to do, and not have anyone accuse me of being bossy.  Director=Boss.  I especially enjoy telling people to sing.  Sing loudly.  With feeling.  I even get to tell them when to breathe.  (My choir doesn't get to breathe unless there is a comma.  I'm very demanding.)

Of course, Primary definitely contributed to the overall good time I had yesterday.  Have I told you how much I love going to Primary?  (Translation for non-Mormons readers: Primary is Sunday School for children 3-12.)  I was in charge of the lessons for the two large groups of children (translation for Mormon readers: I did Sharing Time.).  We were learning about how service can bless ourselves and others, and how we can serve within our own families.  I had some of the younger children come up to the front of the room and play charades: they silently acted out an act of service while the other children guessed what they were doing.  One little girl pantomimed making her mother's bed.  Another little boy pretended to rock his baby sister.  The last child stood before the group and stuck his hands in his pockets, puffed out his cheeks with air, and moved his lips around a little bit.  I thought he had told me beforehand that he would be cleaning his room.....I wondered if this was how he cleaned his room (must drive his mother nuts!) or if it was just stage fright.  But the other children were enthusiastically guessing as this little boy stood there with puffed cheeks and I tried to decide what to do.  "I know!  I know!"  one of the children waved a hand, "He's using mouthwash!"

Remember, the lesson was on service.

The little boy un-puffed his cheeks and nodded proudly.  He was using mouthwash!  I really could have laughed a great, big, belly laugh out loud, right there.  Instead, I smiled widely, avoided eye contact with the other adults in the room, and said, "Oh yes, making sure we smell clean and fresh is such a good way to serve our families.  I bet your family is so happy when your breath smells good."  The little boy looked pleased as punch that he'd come up with such a profound act of love and service.  Mouthwash!

Superkid gave me one other fun experience at church, yesterday.  It was almost time for Primary to end, when she indicated that she needed to use the restroom.  As I waited for her to finish (which sometimes takes a long time, because Superkid often lets conversation and singing get in the way of the business at hand), I inspected myself in the full-length mirror.  I picked at a bit of dry skin on my face.  I tugged at my skirt and buttoned and un-buttoned my jacket, trying to achieve the ultimate illusion of thinness.  I frowned at the bit eyeliner that had smudged.  I worried about the length of my sleeves.  I sighed over my hair.  I wondered if I needed to get whitening toothpaste.  I turned from side to side, sucking in my stomach and trying to decide if yoga was doing anything for me.

After several long minutes of my silent self-criticism, Superkid flushed the toilet and skipped out of the stall.  She washed and dried her hands, and then turned towards the exit, facing the full-length mirror as she did so. Superkid grinned widely and stepped closer to the mirror.  She leaned towards it and took a good look at herself, smiling at what she saw.  "I look really great today!" Superkid told me proudly.  "Don't you think so, Mommy?"

"You sure do," I replied.

"My new glasses are really nice, and the hole where my tooth fell out is so cool!" Superkid said happily.

What a great lesson that was for me!  I want to be more like Superkid.  And I want her to feel that way about herself forever.  I want Endeavor and Justone to feel that way, too.  To be able to look in the mirror and not see things that need to be fixed or changed or things that bother us, but instead look to see someone special who has unique traits and feel great about it.  I wish I could bottle some of that healthy self-esteem, and share it.  There are so many of us that could use it.

Friday Funnies

It is just getting more cheerful by the minute around our house!  Here is the latest.

If you haven't noticed already, I'm a big fan of Sarah at Clover Lane.  I hope she doesn't think I'm some kind of cyberstalker.  I just wish she lived on my street so we could be neighbors, so her kids could play with mine or even babysit for me now and then, so she could give me decorating advice and help me paint, and I would be happy to loan her cups of sugar.  I've got lots of sugar. 

Sigh.  But since she doesn't live on my street, I have to enjoy her and her family and her house through her blog.  Today was hilarious.  Look at these wig pics. 

Now, I give you my proof of why Sarah and I would get along so well if she were my neighbor. 

This is my darling niece.  She came to visit us with her mommy and big sister this summer.  We had so much fun with the A Team.  Especially this little cutie.  I present to you Baby A.

Here is Baby A, enjoying her sweet potatoes in my kitchen.  Sweet potatoes can do a lot for your complexion, you know.

Now, here is Baby A, after her Auntie Ruth gave her a complete makeover at Build-a-Bear Workshop.

Bet you didn't know that sweet potatoes can make your hair grow fuller and thicker in just 30 days, too.  The purse was part of the makeover, of course.  Accessories are so important.

Sarah, I hope you are reading this.  What do you think, should we get Baby A and your Patrick together in 25 years?  They seem to have a lot in common.  (Families who make them look silly.)  Maybe not.  But you can still borrow sugar.

Baby A wonders if Auntie Ruth should be left unsupervised with babies in Build-A-Bear.

Baby A's mommy loved the transformation, however.  Angela always had a thing for Cabbage Patch Kids.

And the big question is.....

.....do blondes really have more fun?

Let's put our glasses on and really think about that for a while.

In the meantime, Baby A's mom decides to show her that there are other alternatives to being a blonde bombshell.

Like being a student at Hogwarts.  Blonde Expelliarmus!

Have fun this weekend!  Even if your kind of fun doesn't involve wigs.

Speaking of children's artwork.....

I found this when I was going through the files of our children's artwork that my brilliant husband, B, has scanned into our computer.  I'd totally forgotten it existed.  It is hilarious.

Before I show it to you, I think I should provide a little disclaimer.  We really don't think that boy children are better than girl children at our house.  We are happy to have any children at all.  That being said, my husband was the eldest of six children.  The firstborn.  And the only boy.  Every time his mom had a baby, B was hoping for a brother.  Every time he was disappointed.  B loves his sisters, but he really, really, really wanted to have a little brother.  You can imagine how thrilled he was to have his own son.  But he really, really, really  wanted J to have a little brother.  That didn't happen....I'm afraid J will have to aquire brothers by marriage.  B is learning to live with disappointment.  But he is also quite conscious of the precarious position of his particular line of the Harding Name.....

....And so are the children.  I can prove it.  Here is the lovely coloring page S brought home from Primary class one Sunday in December.  She definitely took some artistic license with this one.Note the handwritten explanation B added, a helpful reminder of what S said when she handed this lovely piece of artwork to her daddy in the hallway after Primary.  Please don't be offended, and definitely don't use any Freudian theories to analyze it.

Only S's imagination could have created this.  Oh, my. 

Just in case you can't read B's notation, this is what it says:

S colored this picture when she was five years old.  Joseph is crying "because Baby Jesus is a girl."

I'm just really, really glad I'm not there in her class to hear any of the comments she makes.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.