Lizzie's 1st Haircut

Dun, dun, dun!

A few nights ago, while Lizzie was bathing, I had finally had enough of her wet little rat tail, and got out the scissors. 

I have never cut Lizzie's hair before.  Yes, she is nearly two years old.  

The thing is, her hair has several strange traits, none of which make it a candidate for a haircut. 

For one, her hair grows from a swirl from the back of her head.  See it, just southwest of the easterly pigtail?  That is where her hair grows, and it grows forward.  If she were to have bangs, they would of necessity start behind her ears.

 

Secondly, her hair is fine, and even on her first birthday, it was about as long as a grown-out buzz cut.

Finally, on top of getting my exact color and hair texture, she received the cowlick that I also got from my mom.  Thanks, Mom.
The tricky thing about this cowlick is that it is also on the opposite side from the thick swirl in the back of the head.  It's like the perfect storm, colliding mid-head.

 

 

Fortunately, her hair is finally long enough that we can get it in pigtails, and for a few minutes, even a braid.  Do you see the random strands in the back, that are a couple of inches longer than the rest?  Those are the ones I decided must be dealt with.

So just days after that cute little braid, I got out the scissors.  I would advise against the covert bathtime haircut method.  It was going fine until . . . .

That missing chunk will grow back--right?

At least the other side looks pretty good.  And at least I didn't give her bangs that go around the whole front half of her head.  At the rate her hair grows, she'd still be working on growing those out in middle school.

Not bad for a first try.

Do you cut your own kids' hair?   I'm not sure I will do this again for a while, but I'm also not sure I would take her to one of those fancy kids hair cut places.  What do you do?



I'm linking up with Alicia's Try New Adventures today!

Teenager in Training

A Valentine's Variety

This morning we colored a heart for Daddy.  It is on the refrigerator, awaiting its discovery. 

Lizzie loves to "tolor"

Sam is working this evening, so we already had a couple of special dinners at home over the weekend.  If you don't know what to make one day, give this One Dish Pork Chops and Cabbage dish a try.  We haven't ooh'ed and ahh'ed so much over a meal in a long time.  And the best thing is, it's inexpensive and easy.  But I had to reduce the size, since I didn't have such a large roasting pan.  I'm sure you could improvise.

I gave Sam a card.  He's going to take me out on a for real date sometime in the next week or two, when we can arrange for a babysitter.  (i.e., when my mom is not sick and feeling like crud.)

After eating some special Valentine's Day dinner leftovers, Lizzie and I went outside and crunched in the leaves.  It is a gorgeous day.  Sunny and over 60 degrees F. 

crunch, crunch, crunchy leaves

Then we watched High School Musical, which I had never seen.  (Gasp!)  I know, way to be half a decade behind the times, Cindy!  Anyways, Lizzie was enthralled.  She couldn't get enough of the singing.

Lizzie says the word "singing" frequently, and it sounds like "sinnee" - which Sam is convinced is her saying, "Cindy."  He laughs every time she says "sinnee."

I am now 19 weeks pregnant.  People can look at me and tell that I'm pregnant.  I'm starting to feel the occasional movement - most of the time I can identify it as baby, sometimes I'm not sure and it could be gas.  We find out (hopefully) whether this kid is a "he" or a "she" next week.  That will be a fun birthday present. :)

Please disregard the clingy child and the unmade bed.

My feet are beginning to swell.  It usually only happens when I sit for too long, or if I am standing for too long.  I can tell if I spent an excessive amount of time on the computer by the end of the evening, depending on how thick my ankles are.  I can't wait to see what kind of shape my legs will be in by the time this is all over.

Coffee Cake Today

This morning I couldn't sleep, so I got up a bit earlier than usual, inspired to make a coffee cake for breakfast.  It just came out of the oven, and I am pretending I don't hear Lizzie making her, "Hey, I'm awake, is anybody going to come get me?" noises.  I am SO looking forward to coffee cake and coffee to go with it.  There's enough to share, Company Girls!

I'm here with a fried egg, to balance out all the carbohydrates I'll be consuming.  I recently re-learned that carbs without protein make for one very mean lightheaded and shaky mama, so especially while pregnant, I'm trying to make sure I don't go more than a couple hours without something with more protein.

Sam doesn't have to go in to work for another hour and a half, so I am enjoying knowing that if I hop in the shower now, he can hold down the fort.  Then I will be bright and clean, and get to enjoy my coffee cake and coffee.  This is getting better and better.

Plus, I had a quiet time, while waiting for the coffee cake to finish baking.  I've been plugging away in John.  Lately I haven't had a specific direction, so when that happens, and you're tired of psalms, you can't go wrong with John.  Granted, I have been still reading breakfast psalms off and on with Lizzie.  But that's not really going to fill my heart when I'm trying to convince her to eat her waffle.  A couple of days ago I shared a huge revelation from John 5, and if you have a minute, jump over to read all my excuses for why I don't live the life I had dreamed. 

So it's shaping up to be a great morning.  Now, it's time for a shower, then my long-awaited coffee and cake!

Sneaking

Do you have to hide your junk food from your children, too?

Disguised as coffee.  One day she will catch on.  Until then, it's all mine!

Excuses, Excuses!

Misery doesn't only love company, misery also loves excuses.

This morning I was reading John 5, which is an account of Jesus healing an invalid (*) man. 

*Years ago, when I was on a Bible Quiz Team, we were studying this chapter and one of my teammates had been reading the word "invalid" not as a cripple, but as in, "Invalid response. Abort, retry, fail?"  That poor in-valid man, no wonder he wanted to be healed.  

image credit

 OK, back to the issue at hand.

Jesus asked him a direct question:

"Do you want to get well?"

That's a great question, isn't it?  The answer is kind of rhetorical.  Of course he wants to get well.  If not, he wouldn't be where he is, lying there, waiting for hand-outs, and trying to get into the pool of water (which would occasionally be stirred up by an angel, and whoever got in first got healed--Hey, don't look at me funny, I'm just rephrasing the footnote in verse 4).

But the answer that the man gave Jesus is not what we would have expected. 

"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred.  While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me." 

He starts in with excuses.  He gives all the reasons for why he is not well.  He's already given in to defeat (it had been 38 years, after all), so he's offering an invitation to his pity party.

I hear refrains of, nobody helps me, everyone else gets to do what they want, and life isn't fair.

Maybe I only hear that because those are the thoughts in my own mind, more frequently than I would like to admit.  Frankly, life isn't fair.  And a lot of days I argue that fact, wanting fairness, wanting my turn to do something I want to, or at least wanting a break.  

I don't know what Jesus saw in the invalid man that day, but I'm glad He took the initiative to get involved.  Jesus didn't ask him any other questions, didn't preach to him, and didn't rebuke him for his train of thought.

If I imagine this scene, the man is still lying there, maybe not even looking at Jesus.  He might be looking at the pool, bitter with disappointment that it has never yet been his turn.  Perhaps he was thinking of all the people who had let him down by not helping him quickly enough, or maybe not even being there at all.  I imagine Jesus nodding, then interrupting his thoughts with a completely new idea.

Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”  At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.

That was it.  It was as though Jesus had said, Since no one is able to get you into the pool quickly enough, why don't you just jump in there yourself?  And he got up and walked.

So often in my mind I hear a question, like, "Do you want to do something with your days?" and instead of answering, "Yes!  Of course!" I start going on and on about how I can't.  Because there are groceries to be bought and lunches to be made and floors to be vacuumed and laundry to be put away.  Because there are facebook statuses to be commented on and pictures to be uploaded.  Because everyone else goes out and has fun and I have to stay home and hold down the fort.  Because there's a baby on the way and I am certain I will never again accomplish anything except feed, change, and carry.  Because it's been so long since I've had a life and felt like I was contributing to anything beyond the confines of my small and cluttered house. 

And Jesus nods and asks, "Well, why don't you just stand up and start doing something?"

I believe I read this today because I'm at a critical point.  He is asking me, "What do you want to do?" and I don't even have an answer.   I have been thinking that the answer has been, "No, I can't do that," for so long that I have lost the ability to hope beyond just making it to bed at the end of the day.  I have a feeling Paul was addressing this reasoning as well when he spoke "of all men to be pitied." 

The option is there--to believe that what Jesus offers is everything I need to be everything He's called me to be.  I can just believe that He has given me everything I need for life and godliness.  If I will stop with the excuses, and get up and walk, He has a great and miraculous story to unfold.  

I'm linking up with the Soli Deo Gloria girls again today. 

A 20-Month-Old's Jokes

My little baby daughter turns 20 months old tomorrow.  Out of the teen months and into the "almost 2" stage. 
We had her 18 month checkup today.  (Yes, we got a little behind; it's how life is these days.)  She is a whopping 22 lbs and 33-1/2" long.  Tall and skinny, and pure muscle.  Unfortunately she had to have 2 shots, and she did so well.  Only a minute of crying, and it all stopped when I kissed her leg where the band-aids were.  She's taking a good little nap and hopefully sleeping off the grumpies.

Lizzie is a chatterbox.  Really.  I spent some time today writing down every word that I could remember that she uses regularly, and they filled a page front and back!  That's just from off the top of my head (while I watched a bit of PBS Kids with her). 


Even better than her talking is her sense of humor.  She tells jokes.  They are usually like rhetorical questions, and the answer is always, "Noooooo....." with a smirk.

The first time we noticed her creative sense of humor was when we were eating out and she was 16 months old.  Sam and I had ordered two different things and they both looked delicious.  I was getting Lizzie situated with her food, so I had hardly gotten a chance to taste my own food when Sam asked if I had tried his yet.
I said, "No, but I really want a bite."  At that moment Lizzie grabbed my hand, took a gentle bite on my finger, and laughed.
Sam and I looked at each other and couldn't believe what she had just done.  She told her first joke.

More recently, Lizzie has started to tell jokes with words.  Most often she likes to go with the obvious.

About a month ago I put her hair in a ponytail.  Her hair is still so short that a ponytail is kind of a pathetic attempt, but it usually keeps the hair free of boogers, yogurt, and rice, and she doesn't usually pull it out.
She was so fascinated by having a ponytail like mine, and kept saying, "Mama, hair," while trying to grab my ponytail.  And then touching her hair and saying, "Zizzie, hair."  Then a few minutes later, the conversation would repeat.  Eventually she started saying, "Daddy, hair," with a bit of a sparkle in her eyes.  She'd wait for a response from me, then say, "Nooooooo," and laugh.

Last week she saw me putting on makeup, which she calls "mape-mup," and she asked for some on her cheeks.  Really, she did.  She pointed to her cheeks and said, "mape-mup, tzseek." So, being completely amused, I brushed her cheeks with my empty powder brush, and she happily watched me finish my routine.  Then the following conversation ensued:
"Mama, mape-mup."
"Yes, Mama is wearing makeup."
"Zizzie, mape-mup."
"Yes, Lizzie has makeup, too."
Lizzie smiles.  "Yaydee, mape-mup."  (Lady is our dog).
"Lady wears makeup?"
"Nooooooo," with a knowing smirk.
No, silly girl.  Lady doesn't wear makeup.

It just gets more entertaining here every day.