The First Cut, Grey Style

Vroom.

It took me all of two seconds to learn my lesson about giving my children haircuts, and lucky for Grey, Carter got the raw end of that deal. My sister in law told me when she's having a bad day she looks at that picture of my "bang trim" to make herself feel better. Glad I could be of service.
So, fuzzer-head Grey was getting a little too shaggy, and Mom was NOT the woman for the job. Off to the 'salon' for a trim. An absurd $25 for a child's haircut saves us months of both 'grow-out' pains for the children, and public humiliation and general shame for me.

They asked me if I wanted to keep a lock of hair... Um. No. I'm not a "lock-keeper".

He looks so much older with is new 'do! What a handsome boy.

BEFORE...

AFTER!

For Carter: The DON'Ts of Life

I looked at Carter on Friday during our very fun playdate and realized: she's a little girl. I mean she has been for a little while, but it was the first time we played with Lily and Berkeley (who are both 11 months younger than the Miss) that I could see a HUGE difference between them. It was a (humbly) proud moment, but mostly it made my heart ache. I know I'm going to wake up tomorrow and be packing her bags for college. Damn you, time! How you pain parents' hearts worldwide.

So here I am, picturing my baby growing up before my trampled heart when my "Old School Country" Pandora radio station plays If Tomorrow Never Comes. Talk about a moment. I was glad the kids were sleeping and Rusty was at work. There was, perhaps, a lump in my throat, and I will neither confirm nor deny tear-filled eyes and cracking voice while I sang my duet with Garth. I am an awesome ALONE singer, by the way. But anyways, I am shamelessly (pun intended, Garth fans) singing the song and I realized it is imperative for me to share pearls of wisdom for Carter, should I not always be here to try to control lovingly guide her.


So, Carter, this is for you:

1. Don't ever date with a guy that wears tighter jeans than you do. 
I'm not sure if this trend will end (please, for the love, let it end!) but if it doesn't, you'd be wise to refrain. Dating can and does lead to marriage, and I am pretty sure there will be re-production problems for the tight-jean-wearing men later on down the road. Also, I can think of nothing worse than folding clothes and having to really examine the jeans to know whether they are yours or your husbands...

2. Just say "NO"to any guy who asks you on a date via text.
I get that the world is-a-changin' and that texting is youths' way of communicating, but I refuse to allow social norms control boys being respectful, courteous, and gentlemanly to my daughter. If he's not man enough to pick up his phone and give you a ringy-ding, he's not worth your time.

3. Tattoos are for-ev-er.
A)  Don't get one while still in high school
B) Don't get liquid courage and carpe diem while on Spring Break {ever}
C) Never get a tattoo of anything that 2 or more people you know have [because if two or more have it, it is a FAD. Fads fade, but tats, on the other hand, do not]
D) Take off the rose-colored Love Blinders before you make the fatal pitfall of pinning a boy's name on your body, which is (I think now's a good time to remind you) God's Temple.

Note: I don't have a problem with tattoos, in and of themselves. I would actually get one if I could find the right thing for me. This tidbit more refers to "youth-full" tattoo-getting.

Trust me, in my day there were far too many Chinese symbols (most of which were, in all likelihood, mis-drawn and probably meant "you are an idiot" instead of the intended term of endearment). And I can't think of one person who stumbled into a beachside tattoo parlor that came out with the eternal ink of their dreams. Often the barbed wire didn't match up or the hibiscus was just a little too big. And when you're really tempted, just picture your grandma with it and remind yourself that you, too, will one day have saggy wrinkled skin. And remember, you may have rockin' abs right now, but a tat on the belly is sure to change as rapidly as your hormones when you're pregnant. And there is a reason a lower-back tat has earned the name "tramp stamp"...
Simply put: resist the urge, sweet girl.

4. Pictures of you in your swimsuit should never be posted on a social networking site.
Unless you are in a JCrew catalog people don't need to see pictures of you in your swimsuit. I'm not talking about snapshots of a portion of your bather, or with a cover-up on... I'm talking about the full-out, arm-in-teakettle-position, posed full frontals of you in your teeny weeny bikini. If you think you're that hot, take a step back and have a little conversation with God about where you can find and quickly consume some humble pie.

5. Resist, however bad your roots, doing at-home hair color.
I've tried it. More than once (I'm a slow learner, it would appear). Not once did my hair turn out like the beautiful shining-haired and smiling imbecile on the box. But if rust-stained orange is your goal, go for it.

pinkalicious prancer

I finally snapped a few hazy pictures of my ballerina in her required dance uniform.

{10 } months & Truthful Teeth Talk

Blogging is interesting in that there are times that I feel like I can really be open and honest - I try to be raw and heartfelt. I share things that I think are really important or that I want my kids to see/read when they are older - sometimes at the risk of being vulnerable (not something I enjoy doing in general, much less publicly). In other times/situations/events, though, I feel it is important to either not fully divulge or to beat-around-the bush, if you will. Some things are too personal, or inappropriate to share with the general public (not that I have any misconceptions of my blog being a national hit or anything); some things, well, er - I just feel bad saying. I fear I will offend someone or I will look like the heartless un-thoughtful person I am can be... But here, as I mark the tenth month of my son's arrival in this world, I have decided to say something that I have felt in my heart for quite a while. Rusty has too (yeah, I sold you out, Dad). I say it knowing others might judge me,  but here it goes: my son has ugly teeth.

There. I've said it. It's in black and white - there's no taking it back.

Keep reading: I think Grey is dar-ling. Like, cute with a capital C. Precious. Handsome. Adorable. I'm 100% obsessed with him and his contagious grin. But the piercing reality is that our kids (sorry Carter, you're included) have a very short, very precious "Ugly Grow-In Period".

I mean, lets review: Carter got her bottom two teeth, then her top vampire k-9s, came in without the center 4 teeth, which of course caused me to use the phrase (in my best Dracula accent), "I vaunt to suck your blood", far too often. Once her other teeth came in, though, they were crooked and seemed too large for her exceptionally small mouth. But within a few weeks (months?) everything straightened out nicely, she no longer resembled a character from an Anne Rice book (pale skin notwithstanding), and we proudly admire her million-dollar smile and cute pearly whites.

Carter, August 2010 (15 months): You can't tell me she's not precious. You also can't tell me those are cute teeth.

Now, it's Grey's turn. His teeth, although growing in in normal paces and spaces are currently taking up residence mainly on the left side of his mouth (his left, my right). It creates a heavy feeling on that left side, like he might have to work hard to correct this imbalance by placing emphasis on keeping the right side even. Also, his top right tooth, as if afraid it might be forgotten by the jumble of teeth on the left, is growing in sideways. It says, "Hey! Look at me! I'm crooked. Love me."  His top two teeth are also is growing in approximately 34 inches apart... But he'll have a winning smile - I don't doubt it for a single second. It's just not his time yet. Maybe it won't be his time for weeks (months?) to come. But it will happen {and if not there's always the very handy dentist Pops...} Hang in there, Bubs!

Perhaps the moustache will detract from the grill???

In other Grey news: he is now on his third antibiotic for the same ear infection he's had for the past several weeks. Poor thing can't catch a break. Looks like we'll be heading down the same trail Carter blazed with tubes. {insert deep breaths and disgruntled sighs here}. If I never see ear plugs again, much less have to put them into both kids' ears for every blessed water event, it'll be too soon.

Grey's first major catastrophe: fell off Carter's bed (the box springs are on the floor, mind you) and hit his eye on the corner of her Book Box. You need not remind me how close he was to losing an eye (or so I think) - I am painfully aware.

Grey, our little athlete extraordinaire, is about this close to walking. He is standing for longer periods on his own and will attempt to take steps here and there if he sees a trustworthy person waiting to catch him. I had written previously that I wasn't ready for him to be a walker, but have since changed my mind. Here's why: he is a super fast crawler so keeping up with that is already dizzying. Maybe walking will actually slow him down slightly... even if it's just for a little while. Also, when we're in a place with nasty floors, like in our seldomly-mopped home out in public, I would prefer he be upright and getting into everything, than he be soaking up germs and general filth on his hands (which still go into his mouth every other breath) and getting into everything. The point is, he'll get in to everything whether  he is crawling or walking, so let's just alleviate my guilt over not ever consistently washing/disinfecting his hands.

What's up?

A Few More Fun Facts:

Favorite Toys:

- Little People Farm: he has learned how to open the gates to make the animal noises. Plus apparently the animals taste delicious.

- Pirate Ship: he pushes the hammock and giggles aloud every time I push one of the pirates off the plank or shoot them out of the canon... such a boy.

Vices:

- getting in to anything he isn't supposed to... it's like he has a radar for the open refrigerator (pulls anything within reach off the shelves); the open pantry door (Target plastic bags in the mouth have caused more than one freak-out on my part)

- tearing up paper and house plants into small, but probably indigestible, pieces.

- standing on top of the picnic table

clappin' away

Milestones:

- waving... I wasn't sure it was real at first because he would just randomly shoot his hand into the air and just leave it there. Within a few days though he started to jiggle/wave/flap his hand... It was officially a wave when we ate dinner the other night and he was doing his "wave" - when I looked the chef was waving back at him. Yay! A real waver!
- clapping... he has been doing this for a bit, but now it's getting more "appropriate", like when he is super happy or when music is playing.

Month ONE

Month TEN... you've come a long way, baby!!!

great moments

I finally got a new phone (thanks to my HOT valentine)... Thus my ability to take some cute quick pics on the fly has increased exponentially. I mean I could, technically, take pictures with my old phone, but most were such poor-quality, as in so crappy subjects were almost unrecognizable, that I didn't bother... But I digress. Here are some of my favorites of my favorites:

 Grey's new best friend at our local library - a giant stuffed gorilla. He could hardly part with him when it was time to go.

 Can we keep him? Can we? Can we?

 We HEART Carter and Grey

 Night-night time for Baby, Carter, Bear, Piggie Blankie, and Turkey...

What an imp...

Princess of Gingivitis Island

Joy in Trials

I'm not sure how many of you have done a bible study or read a book by Beth Moore, but she is incredible - crazy and rambling and sometimes all-over-the place, but incredible. And incredibly biblically smart (and smart in general - but her historical and biblical knowledge is mind blowing)... I think her vast understanding of the bible is perhaps more striking because she is this firecracker blonde who is always dressed to the nines and talks (in such dramatic fashion) in this hilarious Texas twang -- my favorite quote from last week was, "I'm blonder than I pay to be..." - classic. You'd expect her to be an executive for Neiman Marcus before you'd expect her to be a bible study author, leader, and mentor. This lady packs a punch in her message and exploration of the bible.

The study I'm doing is her newest: James: Mercy Triumphs. It is, as the name suggests, a study over the book of James, which is a letter from James to the early Christian church of Jewish Christians. Many people have heard his famous (or are they infamous) beginning phrase:

"Consider is pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds..." (Jas 1:2) 

Bring on the incredulity -- joy? in tails? are you kidding, James?

I've had my fair share of trials - most many self inflicted, some external - and I can tell you that historically, I haven't exactly gleefully whistled "If You're Happy and You Know It" while dealing with the trauma. However, with Carter's early arrival, God taught me that having "joy" in a trial doesn't mean you do the jumping heel-click followed by a fist pump and exuberant "Woo-hoo!"... I means you change your perspective. You find the smallest part of the trial - an almost imperceptible sliver, sometimes - and you choose to be grateful for that; find joy in that. I was scared and sad and overwhelmed by my sweet one-pound baby that I couldn't even hold - but I had a baby to be scared and sad and overwhelmed for. She was a gift to me, for any amount of time that I got to have her. That was my joy amidst my trial.

Joy is always beleiving that through the trial, God is perfecting us. He is faithful and he is GOOD, no matter how much we suffer.

Read this expert from the study and do this little activity the next time you face a trial (for some of you that's right this minute...):

"We don't have to consider it a great joy when we fall into all sorts of trials, but do we have a better plan? Let's do what the first word in [James 1:2] says: let's 'consider' our options... Identify your most pressing personal trial right now... name three different things you could do with what you're going through. Consider making one obeying James 1:2.

Now, consider the fruit of each of the three. What do you believe the five-year ramifications would be for each of those courses of action? Write the result under each one.

Food for thought, isn't it? While counting your trials joys because of the treasures they can bring may be the hard choice in the beginning, most of us would have to admit that the other options don't pan out as well."

- Beth Moore (page 46 of James study)

Happy Joy Hunting, friends!

tiny dancer

practicing 1st position at home, pre-class

{forgive the cheeseball title... couldn't help myself}

When Carter could hardly speak more words than "mom", "dad" and "more" she was bouncing rhythmically and singing "Shake your booty!" I secretly counted down the days until that blessed first day of DANCE!

Let me be clear, though - even if she hadn't seemed in any way musically inclined, this day would have happened. I was a dancer - not a good one, by any stretch of the imagination (ok, I was bad... I'm talking back row, lucky if I remember the whole dance at any given performance, bad) - but a dancer, nonetheless. I don't care if Carter is good or not, I just think that every child that can, should have certain experiences; and for girls, that means owning (and using) at least one pair of ballet slippers and tap shoes. 

playing in the empty dance studio before class

And so the time has come for carter to officially start her FIRST Dance Class. The truth is, I originally took her to the Tiny Tots class, which is for 18 months - 2.5 year olds. Carter is obviously at the upper end of that group, but I thought it might benefit her to start with the super-basics. Plus her cousin was going to be in the class, which made for a more fun wait-time for me and Berkeley's mom.

no, her classmates aren't the flowers from Alice in Wonderland, I just don't like to post other people's kids' pictures without their permission

I'll just go ahead and say it: we hardly went through one dance class before the inner Dance Mom came out in me. This class was too easy. Too "baby". Carter should be challenged - she can handle it. So I moved her up to the Dance Basics class, which is 2.5-3.5 year olds. I feel/felt slightly embarrassed about being too cool for the "baby" class, but I really felt that Carter was old enough to learn and do real dance moves. I had that, "if I'm going to pay for dance, she should dance..." attitude (the other class was much more "let's pretend to be elephants/monkeys/various jungle animals"). So call me Abby Lee, but up she moved {and no, friends who make fun of me for refusing to watch reality TV - I have never actually seen the show, I just googled it}

There's our studious, non-tutu-ed little one (In my defense, I didn't know they were allowed to wear tutus in the Tiny Tots class, otherwise we would've been sportin' one!)

The studio we attend is serious enough that even Carter's age group has to wear a certain leotard, tights, shoes, and must have her hair pulled back in a secure bun. I actually bought hair spray just for Monday afternoon "hairography". But it is not so serious that she'll end up a spectacle on a TLC reality TV show. I think her teacher is darling and the other little girls are sweet. I've been awful and haven't taken any new pictures of her now that she is in "the real class" - bubble-gum pink leotard, pink tights, and all - mainly because about 3/4 of the way through the first class, after feverishly shooting an absurd amount of pictures I noticed THE sign [pictured to the right]... but hopefully I can get my act together enough get some before we leave home next week.

"the bun"

{9} months

I'm super anxious about it, so I'll just deal with it straight away: there was no 7 nor 8 month update for my Greybear. There's actually not even {GASP} 7 month chair pictures. You'd think I was really busy dealing with that 7/8/9 month old and his wild and crazy big sister, or something!

Fuzzy Bear Flat Top

8 months!

9 months!
Look at the difference... He's looking like a little boy now!

So, about my growing boy: It's already determined that this is the toughest child to ever grace American soil. Grey has faced so much discomfort {perpetual ear infections; colds and coughs; allergic reactions; thrush; and the list continues...}, and all the while with sparkling blue eyes and a jack-o-lantern smile. We're on to new formula for his oh-so-ridiculous tummy. Elecare, his prescription formula, has stopped his constant diarrhea (sorry, TMI, I know). It has been a GOD-send and has made a 180 degree difference in our sweet boy. Go figure: NO stomach cramping is really way easier than allergic reactions to the formula you drink four times a day. This formula change, although not easy on our wallets, is worth every penny - his afternoon naps have gone from maybe 45 minutes to 2-3 hours, and he easily sleeps 10-12 hours at night! The only downfall is my guilt for not trying it sooner... Live and learn, right fellow Moms?

Grey is such an active boy, as he always has been. He is crawling like the wind these days. He is so fast that I think it is keeping him from even trying to walk. I keep holding my breath waiting for the day he spends more than a second or two standing, and tries to take that first step. I might faint if it happens before 11 or 12 months. A crawler and a walker is bad enough - two walkers might be more than I can currently bear.

Laughing lil' Hillbilly

Teething has been ongoing... We have the original two bottom teeth, then one middle top tooth and the eye-tooth, both on the right (our right, Grey's left). He is, at this moment, cutting the other middle top tooth, which is comforting to me (I had been referring to him as a hillbilly, due to his random missing toofers). Naturally with all these darling and up-and-coming teeth he constantly shows them off with his ridiculous grin... When he isn't chewing on something, that is. He is totally in that chew-on-anything-I-can-get-my-paws-on stage, which, I have learned is much more interesting with two kids. With Carter, the first chewer, I was able to, for the most part, regulate what was chewed upon. With Grey, there is no telling. Between Carter's veritable smorgasbord of  food and  choking hazard toys, added to whatever has been dragged in by the dogs, Grey has nibbled on a little bit of everything.

chompin' on pears

Rusty and I entertain ourselves by wathcing The Bear try to get Carter's food {it's like a challenge inside Grey that only he knows about -- Your Mission, should you choose to accept it: Grab Any/All of Carter's Food. He seriously will stop at nothing to attain her feast.} The kids got a picnic table from Santa and so we have put it into the breakfast-room-turned-playroom. When we don't sit down at The Table (i.e. dining room) as a family, Carter eats at the picnic table. Since she pretty much hates to eat and finishing dinner is a looooong process, there is plenty of time for Grey to finish his bottle and whatever he snacks on and get down to roam around. He immediately beelines for the table where he cruises around (for your non-baby-movement-lingo speakers, cruising is walking while holding on to furniture) until he can grab a morsel (or more) of food, or, if left to his own devices, the entire plate. The dogs are let in hourly daily to clean up spilled food, needless to say. He has eaten so many things that are not friendly to his milk-protein allergy, and that are certainly not listed on the Things to Feed Your 7/8/9 Month Old. Carter often warns us of incoming trouble with either a simple, yet loud, "NO Wey!!! No take my food, Wey!", or "No Wey! No knock it over!"

Other fun facts about Grey that we get to enjoy each day:

* He has a contageous giggle. It could be the best sound of all time. He loves to be tickled, though finding the right spot can be finicky (top of the thigh is usualy a winner)

* He's a DANCER! Grey will bounce - sitting or standing - with a huge smile on his face when music comes on.

* Changing his diaper is the equivalent of an ironman for both my arms and my willpower. He is S.T.R.O.N.G. and becuase we struggle with awful skin (thanks, Dad) and thus diaper rash to the enth degree, the poor guy hates every single step of the changing process. Can you potty train a one year old?

* We've officially got an open-mouth kisser (my favorite!!!)... I always make a big deal about "Kisses!" and usually, ableit not always, he will open right up and lean in for the kill. I love it!!!