Archives for September 2013

Insta-Wednesday: September

September 10, 2013 by Kelli

Remember last year, when I lamented Florida’s lack of fall and I longed for boots and scarves and lattes and all the glory that comes with autumn?!

I wore boots and a scarf to church last Sunday. It was 90 degrees out, but I did not care. I’m bringing the fall to Florida. Look out now!

And of course, always remembering, never forgetting, the events that reshaped our country on this day 12 years ago. It is an ever present shadow that we will always live beneath. We remember those lost, we weep for those who are still directly affected.

Have a blessed Wednesday.

Filed Under: Instaram, iPhone, Photography Tagged With: iphone, iphonography, pictures

The Post About Hair

September 9, 2013 by Kelli

We tumble out of the car after church and rush into the house, a bundle of nerves and excitement.

“I’m scared,” she says, her eyes a little bigger than usual. “What if I mess up?”

“Go put on your leotard and your warm ups and we’ll talk about it,” I answer.

Ten minutes later she sits at the table and I begin brushing her long, kind of thin, white-blonde, mousy hair. Bless her precious little heart, she is the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen, but she definitely drew the short stick when it came to hair.

As she talks through the nerves she feels about competing in her very first gymnastics meet, I deal with my own nerves. Naturally, I was a little nervous for her, but my bigger issue came in the form of what on earth should I do with that hair?

See, I read the team manual. I know the rules. That hair has to be up and back and off the face and it cannot come loose under penalty of death. Or loss of a few tenths of a point. Whatever.

The point is, getting the hair right for a gymnastics competition is of the utmost importance.

And we all know who gets judged on the hair – she’s seven, folks. I’m on the hot seat for hair that refuses to stayed tied tight.

“Let’s put your hair up in a bun,” I suggest, and she immediately balks. I forgot to mention – she hates having her hair done. It ranks right up there with getting a shot. She does it because I say she has to, but she’s not happy about it.

I pull her hair back as tight as possible when it’s spun of pure silk and tried to secure it in a ponytail holder.

“You’re hurting me!” she wails. She grabs at the bottom of her head and yanks a chunk of hair out of my fingers.

“It’s supposed to be tight,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Well I don’t want it in a bun!” she cries. “My hair doesn’t work like that. I have small buns!”

I snicker as I tried to regroup the hair on top of her head because the twelve year old in me cannot hold back.

“Well what about braids? Your coach said braids are a great way to keep your hair out of your face.” I set to work weaving her hair into tight braids down the back of her head as she whines and groans about how much I’m hurting her and it doesn’t have to be that tight and sweet mercy if this child ever decides to become a dancer, she’s going to have to employ her own hair dresser because I will not survive such shenanigans!

I tie the braids, but they hang funny over her shoulders. It’s a bit Pippi Longstocking, and while I find it mildly adorable, I can envision her lying on a counselor’s couch one day lamenting the fact that she could have been an Olympian if only her mother had been able to come up with an acceptable gymnastic’s meet hairstyle.

I fold the braids under and secure them with ribbons and enough hair spray to chip out a small hole in the ozone layer, then tell her to do a couple of back walker overs and make sure it will work.

“It hurts! It hurts so bad! Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow! Why is it so tight! It hurts.hurts.hurts.hurts.hurts!!!”

It’s at this point I begin humming Jesus Take the Wheel while wondering what she would look like with a shaved head. (She’d look precious. I’m sure of it…)

She waffles back to the kitchen table, clutching her head as though I had woven thorns into her braids and we set back to work. The only issue is I’ve put so much hair spray into it, that it’s not going anywhere. So I twist, pull, tug, and pray until I have it tucked it in a way that allows her full movement of her head. She hops off the table and rolls her neck around.

tia meet

“Fell better?” I ask. She nods and runs to the bathroom.

She looks in the mirror, side to side, then looks at me.

“I look weird,” she says.

I drop my head, shrug my shoulders and wave her outside where I spray glitter into her hair because glitter covers a multitude of sins.

And we’re on our way.

She ended up tying for third in her meet. It’s probably easy enough to attribute her success to her hard work and dedication, but after the fiasco we went through to get her there, I’m going to take full credit for her success.

Gold medal for Mom.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Sports, Tia Tagged With: Gymnastics, Gymnastics hair styles, Keep it together Mama!

A Post About Nothing, Everything, and the One BIG Thing

September 4, 2013 by Kelli

Okay, friends. It’s confession time.

I’m bored with blogging.

Gasp!

I know! It’s like I just insulted my dearest friend and her mom in one fell swoop! I feel like I should buy the internet an “I’m So Sorry” bouquet of daisies and an Edible Arrangement to make up for what is clearly apathy and a bit of laziness on my part.

I think this is just a temporary lull in the old blogging Mojo. I sense that it will return to me at some point and that when it does you all will roar in delighted laughter and the internet will forgive my indiscretion and will sweetly ask me if I enjoyed my little jaunts away from the the glimmering screen.

To be clear, I’m not leaving the internet. I like her too much to walk away completely. But there are other delights calling me and I feel like I need to answer. I miss writing, and by writing I mean the art of getting lost in a story. It’s a funny thing, writing a novel. It’s like the longest, most mentally exhausting labor in the history of ever, and then when it’s all over, you look at this little creation in your hands and think, “Man. When can I do this again?!”

There are other issues that make blogging more of a challenge these days than they did in the days of yore. (Because the internet moves and changes and matures so quickly, it’s very easy to refer to two years ago as “Yore.” You understand.)

First, the kids are older and I just feel kind of squicky sharing all their secrets now. I mean, they’ve provided me with a truck load of stories lately. There’ve been some real humdingers, to be sure. But somehow it feels like those stories should be theirs to tell, not mine.

Well, okay. That’s not entirely true. Some of these moments I’m just saving up to share with their prom dates, at their wedding rehearsal dinners, or any other occasion when it feels appropriate to dig into my cache of awesome and give away these treasured stories that I hold. I just don’t want to tell the whole world every little thing any more.

I’m also (lean in close, now, so I can whisper this in your ear) kind of enjoying my long quiet days. When the kids get on the bus in the morning, I know they think I head into the house and weep softly, but I don’t. I put a little music in the iPod, grab the dog and shimmy my way through the neighborhood for a walk. I come back and enjoy a long shower without fear of someone walking in to tell me how deeply they’ve been offended by a protesting sibling. And when those two things are finished?

I sit at my computer and think, “Huh. I have all this time. I bet I could start making a little more money now.”

So I’ve been brainstorming ideas, writing, editing, querying agents and publishers, and talking with friends who are in need of a writer and have the funds to hire. Then I scoot over to my little corner of the web and dust her off a little, wishing I could give her more of myself.

That’s where I am. I’m here, but my brain is a few other places and my brain has never been very good at doing two things at once. I do have an upcoming project that I’m taking part in, though. I can’t give you all the details yet because…well, because I don’t have them. But I have a little teaser, a photo to show you something big, something HUGE, that we can all do together.

Check out ‘dem apples!

We’re going to be a part of this one big thing together, my friends, and this is a good thing. This is the sort of thing that makes the internet happy and makes me never, ever want to leave blogging ever because our words and actions are going to change the world.

This one big thing is something we can all be a part of. We can help make huge improvements to this amazing ministry from the comfort of our own homes, while still wearing our slippers! Glory!

So I’m not leaving. I’m staying. I’m just confessing that I know I’ve been a little stale, but the internet is quick to forgive and you all are so very patient while I work out the kinks of this new phase of life.

So hang with me just a little while longer? And if anyone would like to send me an Edible Arrangement, I’d happily accept it…on behalf of the internet, of course.

Peace out.

Filed Under: Blogging, funny stuff that happens, Life, Novel, Random, writing Tagged With: (in)courage, (in)Mercy, Blogging, losing my MoJo, Please don't ever leave me, writing

The One With the Slippers

September 3, 2013 by Kelli

When Tia was nine days old, I took her to have pictures made. I wanted to go all out on her newborn pictures, so I naturally went to Picture People and paid $10 for 150 pictures of the exact same terrible shot. (I paid an extra 10 bucks to get 150 of a second shot because I felt like splurging.)

In my defense, digital pictures were just now beginning to take off. Lee and I had only gotten our first digital camera less than a year earlier. I still preferred a camera with actual film because…I don’t know why. Because change is hard? And for all you young ‘uns reading this blog who don’t remember life without digital images, this is how fast technology can change the world. I also had a flip phone back then that I could never remember to keep charged and I didn’t text because tapping out the alphabet was a torture greater than trying to nurse an infant in a crowded room.

In short, I am old enough to remember the good old days.

I have digressed mightily, though. This post isn’t about technology, nor is it about the terrible pictures I got at Picture People. This post is about motherhood, obviously.

Back in those days (seven and a half years ago…feels like a lifetime), I did not yet have a minivan, I didn’t blog and I only had one and a half kids. An infant only counts as half, that’s how those census people are able to determine that the average American household has 2.5 children. Infants. They aren’t full people until they can support their own body weight.

Sometimes I think back to those early days with little littles and I laugh at how difficult it all felt. Just getting up and out of the house felt like a momentous task each and every morning, and indeed it was. Try getting half a person ready while a two year old (who should really count as three people if we’re being honest) terrorizes the house. Those days were hard. They were really hard.

Our lovely, off-centered picture. I still have about 120 of these left so if anyone wants one, just let me know…

The morning I took Tia and Sloan to Picture People for those awesome of awesome portraits, I did it all on my own. Lee was out of town (because his company had impeccable timing and adored sending him away for a week and a half every time I had a baby) and I was on my own. I got up extra early that morning. Actually, if I remember correctly, I just didn’t go back to bed after the 4 am feeding. I took a shower, fixed my hair, put on make up (make up!), dressed two small children (one and a half, whatever…), changed diapers, fed said children breakfast, got them bundled up (February in St. Louis is cold in an evil, diabolical sort of way) and got out the door.

As I walked into the mall – the mall! – for our 9:00 appointment, I strolled confidently up to my mom. I had the car seat popped securely in the stroller and Sloan held tight to the side. I was rocking that motherhood gig. I felt like shouting LOOK AT ME, EVERYONE! SEE ALL MY AWESOME! BEHOLD, COME GAZE UP MY TOGETHERNESS AND MARVEL AT HOW EASY I MAKE THIS LOOK! I DID THIS ALL ON MY OWN! LOOK AT HOW GREAT I AM!

“You made it!” Mom cried. As if there was any doubt.

“Yep, and I got everything done! Look, I even got a shower!”

We stepped onto the escalator and as we did, I tripped slightly so I looked down to catch my balance.

I was still wearing my slippers. These were not slippers that looked like shoes, either. These were slippers that looked like slippers. I looked back up at my mom and she threw her head back and laughed.

“Well, if that’s all you forgot, you did okay,” she said with a grin.

Motherhood is exhausting and every season of child-rearing brings a new set of crazy. Sometimes the online world can make it seem like we all have it together. We’re coiffed and showered. Our clothes are clean and our children are picture perfect. The world online can look like sunshine and rainbows, and for the exhausted Mama getting up at 4 am so she can get out of the house by 8:30, it can feel like the entire world has it more together than you.

Just don’t forget that we’re all wearing slippers in some way, shape or form. Raising kids isn’t about having it all together, or looking put together, so don’t give into the pressure, because honestly?

Slippers are so very, very comfortable.