As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2: 4-5

Friday, January 29, 2010

Out of the mouths of babes... just gotta love--or at least appreciate the honesty and lack of tact in a child. They love you no matter what, but let yourself go a bit, forget to wear makeup or get a bad haircut, and they'll be sure to let you know. Or...try really hard to better yourself, and they'll let you know just how far you've yet to come. Thus was the case this morning, with both Daryl and me.

Truth time 1: Daryl has been rocking the Biggest Loser competition at his school. He has been working so hard and has lost 16 pounds in the last three weeks. He looks great and he feels better. And...he is, thus far, the Biggest Loser at his school, which if he keeps it up, comes with a hefty cash prize. So on the way to work, Hannah announces that if she "keeps eating and eating that she will get as fat as you Daddy!" When Daryl stopped laughing and tried to defend himself, she very matter of factly said to him, "You are getting fatter and fatter and everyone knows it!" To her credit, she did follow it up with "No one loves you like me, Daddy." Which is so very sweet, and probably very true!

Truth time 2: I used to be all about dressing for work. My clothes would be color coordinated with my jewelry and my shoes, my hair was always done, make up perfect, nails done. I enjoyed it--the shopping, the dressing, the feeling good about myself, and of course that amazing feeling of wearing a super cute pairs of shoes. That was BC. Before Charlotte. Since Charlotte has arrived, things have changed. I roll out of bed with twenty minutes to get dressed and ready before I have to get the kids up and start geting the little girls up and changed and fed and ready to go with Daryl. I could get up earlier, but I cherish my nice warm bed and the time in it. Once up, more often than not, I have a child on my lap, and so the make up gets put on in the car. In the dark. Without a mirror. Eek. And I am tired and I hurt and I just look old. And the being tired and hurting and looking and feeling old has really done a number on my mood. So, I decided last night that I would get up and make the effort this morning. I did my nails last night. Wore matching jewelry. Did my hair--which because of the lovely postpartum thinning of the already thin hair--took some effort. Some teasing even (yes...I do realize that this makes most everyone reading this cringe, but man I had good 80'.s hair, and those mad skills come in handy every once in a while). So I am there in my classroom feeling good, feeling pretty for the first time in ...I can't even remember when...and in walks Emiley. This cute little imp of a girl who is one big bundle of messy curls that escape every headband, hair bow, and ponytail holder she tries. She looks up at me with these big brown eyes and says, "Mrs. Stone, your hair..." And I knew what was coming. A "it looks so pretty" and a hug...first graders are good for things like that. But was "Mrs. Stone, your hair....I think you forgot to brush your hair. It's so tangly!" Sigh. And I didn't even get the "No one loves you like me" compliment afterwards to soften the blow.

Kids,...gotta love 'em. But no matter what anyone says (and yes, girls have said it too)...I'll always love 80's hair!

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