Maximus and Javier

Back in January, Claire and Luke both required haircuts.

Warning: Some of the following images may be disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised.

It was long past the time for Luke's hair to be cut. It was starting to get so long and combed over, he was channeling a Trump, so I took out the clippers, gave him a go over, and he came out of the battle looking like a gladiator. Like a short, flabby gladiator with a double chin that wobbles when he walks. As soon as I sheered off his smooth locks, I regretted it. Suddenly his babyness was gone. He looked like a different kid. Cody kept calling him Maximus. I was sad. But it was for the better and I got use to it right quick. He is pretty handsome.




Now Claire. Claire's haircut was also one of necessity. When her hair is long, it is the thing that she is constantly messing with, whether she is twisting it into knots or sucking on the ends. Her hair was disgusting and such a beast to comb out every morning. So I decided we had to cut it short. So me and my frugal self took her to a place to get it cut where I had a $5 coupon. Note to self: don't take you daughter to any place that has 'Clips" in the title. Such a bad haircut. Claire has really thick hair, so I asked the lady to cut it in a nice round bob. She instead cuts it it pretty blunt, with the back longer than the sides. I have this horrible problem of letting bad haircuts go without saying anything to the hair-cutter. Shouldn't I have told that lady as soon as she was done that the hair cut was not what I asked for and that it was horrible? But I felt bad, since I was only paying $5 for it.

I didn't say anything and left with my daughter sporting the same do as the Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men:



And the worst part, I just left it. It's grown out a little bit now, so it looks a little better, but still. I think there is a general parenting rule out there that if you child resembles the appearance of a psychopath in anyway, you should fix that--quick. Don't worry. I'll get around to fixing it one day.

Valentine's Cards

Just in case you don't follow our craft blog (what?!), I wanted to share the valentines I made up for Claire to give to her class. I prefer homemade valentines, because they tend to be cuter and I don't have to stand at the store lamenting that the only choices I have are barbie or hello kitty (I haven't seen any Brat's cards this year. Maybe they read my blog). But mostly, I have a ton of fun creating them. This year, Claire is in a bigger class, so I went the digital route for cards.

The downloads and the instructions are over at our craft blog if you want to make your own. Just click on the picture of the valentine you want to take you over there.


Now, according to my translators, this card says, "Bandit! You have stolen my heart." But if my translators are wrong, then they are in big trouble, mister. Because I like to pretend I speak Spanish.

And if you are feeling super crafty, I also have a download and instructions to make "dancing" ballerina cards. Because everything is better when it moves!

30

My birthday came and went. It was a good day filled with my family, phone calls, and friends. The night ended with a little party at our house, that included Texas Sheet Cake and the always popular and awkwardly discordant singing of "Happy Birthday".

Goodbye, 20s!
Hello, 30s!

Our Own Drum

I am struggling writing this post. I have written several drafts, and none of them have sat quite right with me. I think the problem is I am trying to summarize a portion of my life that just can't be summarized in three paragraphs. So instead of giving you a brief history, I just want to write about the reoccurring theme that keeps popping up as I think over my teenager years.

At every stage of my life I have been surrounded by good friends- and they aren't just good friends, they are good people who have really had a part in shaping who I am today (3 days shy of 30, if any one is counting). My high school friends stick out to me in particular, because they have literally been life long friends and were such an important part of my navigating the teenage years happily and healthily.

In a time where many teenagers struggle with being themselves, getting caught up in the judgments of others, basing their self-esteem on being accepted by a certain crowd- we did not. We were unapologetically ourselves, we danced to the rhythm of our own drums, we were accepting of each other, and we had fun. We were athletes, band geeks, choir geeks, and drama geeks (why do all the creative groups get labeled 'geek'?). We found fun in making movies for film class, singing Christmas carols, and jumping into large batches of cottonseed on the weekends. You may have called us geeks, but boy, did we have fun.

In general, I am proud of my time in high school. I do have some major embarrassing, putting foot-in-mouth, being awkward, stupid moments that still make me cringe, but I still have those now. In fact, not a whole lot about my personality has changed much since high school: i still like old movies, I still like to sleep in, I still am driven by creative pursuits, and I still sing at the top of my lungs while I clean the house. The only major differences are that nowadays, I have a husband, offspring, and I wear make-up.

I am happy with who I am, and such a big part of that is due to having amazing, accepting friends. To you, I say thank you.

Poking my Feet

There are a lot of things that I tend to think define me, but when held up to scrutiny, I realize that I am no such thing. For instance-brave. Brave used to be my thing when I was little. I didn't cry when I got shots, I ran through fields with no shoes, I climbed high up in trees, dove off high dives, and I was the one who cleaned up the dead mouse my sister's once found under our bed.

See. You probably read through those and thought, "um, that isn't necessarily what I would call brave." But in my mind, at the time, I totally thought I was brave.

I had my fears, too, and thinking about what I actually use to fear is more interesting to me than the things I thought made me brave. While I had the normal fears- someone breaking into the house, dying of cancer, losing a parent, the story with the babysitter and the caller ("go check the children")- I also had a bunch of just plain weird fears, that demonstrate the lengths of my imagination.

For instance, when I was little I watched an Alien show, where aliens were popping out of people's stomachs and all that good stuff. The resulting ramification of my violating the MPAA's rating recommendations is that I had a fear of the bathtub drain after this. Yeah, I know that doesn't make any sense, but I wouldn't keep my feet by it when I was in the bathtub for the off chance that an alien might pop up out of it. I kept this fear for years. Darn aliens.

The next fear I had wasn't necessarily something that I thought of constantly or worried much about. But occasionally when I would think about it I would work myself up. It's one I have mentioned in my blog before. I never wore shoes outside during the summer time growing up. Somehow I got the notion in my mind, that what if there was a little world of people who live underneath us- our ground is their ceiling? And what if they are after us and are trying to poke our feet with needles? This incredibly sane reasoning would make me hop around on my tippy toes- you know, just in case.

And lastly, sometimes I got to wondering if I was the only real person and that everyone surrounding me was really robots. Seriously, had this thought a couple of times.

Today, I still have some of the same fears- someone breaking in the house, dying of cancer, losing a parent, the story with the babysitter and the caller ("go check the children")- but I have replaced all the irrational ones with the all too real ones of my children being harmed in any way. I guess I shouldn't say I have replaced all the irrational ones. I have gained some new ones as I have grown up- like the fear of calling people on the phone. I still have a little crazy in me.

9 days

A couple of nights ago, Cody asked me what I think about as I fall asleep. And while in the past I could have answered that I dream up stories that involve cowboys and Indians, recently my twilight thoughts have been more of the non-fiction type. I have been thinking about my life and my story. I am about to turn 30 in 9 days and as I reflect on how fast the last 30 years have flown by, all the people I have met, the places I have been, and who I have become, I just can't help but be struck by how much fun it has all been. I have thoroughly enjoyed every stage of my life, and I always tend to enjoy each stage more than the last. I am excited for my 30s. It will be the decade where my kids really grow up (and can finally play board games, like Balderdash, Pictionary, and Cranium with me), where Cody and I will see even more of the world (that's a guarantee since we are in the Navy), and maybe, just maybe, I will stop sounding like such an idiot when I leave messages on phones (actually, I am not holding my breath for that one). It will be a little sad to say goodbye to my 20s, because they have been my favorite decade so far, littered with so many good things, fun things, and great people. But like I said, every stage has been better than the last.

So even though I feel a might silly about it, I want to jaunt down some of those random memories I have been thinking about, mostly for my sake. I love the role of memory-keeper that my blog has become for me (and one day for my kids), so you'll just have to bear with me as I write a little bit about the story of my life.

After all, that is the subtitle of my blog.



And just because my mom didn't think the picture of Luke's bum was adequate, I have included a picture of his face.

Forgot to mention. . .

Luke decided to become a full-time walker during Christmas break. He wobbles around with big smiles all day long. He's terribly cute.