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The one where I confess a lack of mercy

March 12, 2012 By Kelli 32 Comments

I’ve taken a hundred personality tests in my life. If that’s an exaggeration, it’s only just barely one.

Okay FINE! I’ve only taken ten or twelve personality tests in my life, but it might as well be a hundred because they always say the same daggum thing.

The first time I really remember being subjected to the personality test was as a junior in high school. The test was administered and the results dissected and given to me in bullets.

- You like to take charge.

- You are skilled at leading and teaching.

- You like to be center of attention. (DUH!)

- You are a go getter. (Holla!)

- You lack grace. (Hmph.)

- You scored very low on mercy.

Awesome. So basically I’m a scary fame whore who will conquer the world at the expense of anyone in my path.

Wanna be my friend?

In college I took the test that determines your personality based on four different animals. There is the Lion, the Golden Retriever, the Otter and the Beaver. Guess which category I undeniably fit into. Go ahead…just take a stab at it.

LION! You were right. You guys are paying attention. A Lion personality possesses the following strengths and weaknesses:

Strengths– Visionary, practical, productive, strong-willed, independent, decisive, leader.

Weaknesses– Cold, domineering, unemotional self-sufficient, unforgiving, sarcastic, cruel.

I am a Lioness. Sleek. Shiney. Cold and Cruel? Can I buy a new personality somewhere?

Incidentally, I married a Golden Retreiver; calm, easy going, dependable, humorous, prone to fearfulness and worry and slightly indecisive. Everybody loves a Golden Retriever. And everyone loves my husband.

Apparently I just want to attack him.

So mercy is not high on my list of giftedness. My natural tendency is walk on by. Just ask my husband.

Wait…you know what. Forget that. Don’t ask him. No need to bring him into this, right? *nervous laughter*

I know that Mercy isn’t my first reaction and dangit if I don’t fight the battle. I am extremely empathetic and am prone to fits of blubbery tearfulness when presented someone else’s pain. I cry hard, I cry ugly and I feel deep.

But that’s more compassion and empathy. Mercy? Well, that’s a different story. Lion’s don’t operate under the umbrella of mercy. It’s not in our primal nature. And I am a Lion…ness. I work on my Lion-y tendencies every single day and I’ve made great strides. However…

Just read the following under that context.

Sloan has been laid up on the couch for the last couple of days with a fever and nasty chest cold. He shakes and quivers from the high temps and he has alternated between achy and nauseous. I want to feel sorry for him. I do. Because he’s my son and lioness or not, I’m still a Mama.

But I’m also a Lion.

Roar.

So today, despite the fact that his fever broke, he was still tired enough that he spent most of the day lying on my bed watching a movie. Actually watching Game 5 of the NLCS when the Cards beat the Phillies – because nothing makes an eight year old boy feel better quicker than baseball.

It’s scientific.

Sloan and I had a conversation that went something like this today.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some water?”

Me: “Okay. Just wait a minute, okay?”

Sloan: “Mom, I’m super thirsty and my throat hurts. Can you get me water now?”

Me: “Just a minute, Babe. I will. Just give me a minute.”

Sloan: “Mom. I might be dying. If I don’t get water, I just might die right here.”

Me: “Sheesh. Drama much?” I get up and go to the kitchen to get him water. I come back and hand him the cup and he drinks, then looks up at me.

Sloan: “Mom. Can you get me some medicine?”

Me: *feeling his forehead* “You don’t have a fever anymore. I think you’re good.”

Sloan: “No, Mom. I’m so stuffed up I can’t breathe. Please get me some medicine.”

With a small sigh I go back to the kitchen, get the medicine and bring it to him. He hands me his empty cup.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some more water?”

The Lion roars.

Me: “Not your slave, kiddo. You’re gonna have to get this drink on your own.”

Sloan: “But Mom, I’m soooooo tired. Please?”

I set the cup down and walk to another room. Just as I leave I hear Sloan mutter, “I thought Moms were supposed to always take care of their kids when they’re sick.”

Mercy.

A Golden Retriver would have had Mercy. A Golden Retriver would have gotten him more water and probably licked the side of his face and curled up next to him in bed.

I wouldn’t know. I’m a Lion. Apparently we just eat our young…

The rockin’ Lion photo was taken by my equally rockin’ sister-in-law, Becke‘, who is not a Lion herself. I would classify her as more of a Beaver/Otter combination. Am I right, Becke’?

So what about you? Do you know your personality type? Do you eat your young?

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, Sickness, Sloan Tagged With: , ,

Re-Post: How to Go from Reverent to Irreverent Without Even Really Trying

March 12, 2012 By Kelli 3 Comments

My daughter woke me up before 5:00 this morning. Rather than go back to sleep I decided to get up and do some writing. I will probably regret this decision around 2:00 today but for now I plan to get slightly lost in my characters. Here’s an old post for a bit of fun. This moment still makes me laugh.  This was originally posted in November of 2010. Happy Monday!

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If ever you ask my seven year old to pray before a meal, I suggest you make sure you’re not starving. Because Sloan? He brings it when he prays. All I need is a tent and a white hanky and Glory, Hallelujah we’ve got a revival.

Landon and Tia, try as they might, have a very difficult time making it through one of Sloan’s prayers without sneaking a bite or four. Sloan has been known to pray up to five minutes or more. He thanks God for everything from his toys to the military. He prays for poor people and for everyone he can think of by name. He prays for his own attitude and, on any given day, could likely be heard praying that his sister’s attitude would change too.

Last night’s dinnertime prayer went something like this:

Dear Lord. You are the Creator. You created. Everything. God. You are our Lord. Thanks for being our Lord. And for being our Savior. Thank you for, um, the veterens (which he pronounces vechrins). Thank you that they protect us and keep us safe. Thank you for Mr. Nevil that he fought to protect our country. We are very glad for them. Thank you for the Army vechrins and the Navy and…um…the Air Force. And all of the people that serve. It’s just awesome that they do that for us. Give them glory, Lord.

We thank you for Jonri (our Compassion child), God. He is poor. But he’s not poor anymore because we can help him to not be poor. And thank you that he will get Christmas presents. We pray for all the poor people, God. We pray that they will have food. And toys.

Lord you are very great. God. Thank you for our family (lists everyone from grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins). Thank you for all my friends (lists as many as he can think of by name). And, God. I pray that I would have a good attitude. Thank you that I had a good day today and was nice and happy. And thank you that Tia was nice to me today and we could have a little fun.

*It’s at this point that Lee and I are trying not to crack up as Landon, with his head down and his eyes squinted open begins grabbing food and putting it in his mouth, then clasping his hands together again while he prays and chews. My grandmother would have told him he was going to choke for sneaking food during prayer.

We just thank you for everything you give us, Lord. And it is in your Holy, Powerful Name we pray…In Jesus Name.

Amen

It’s not hard to understand why Jesus commanded us to let the little children come to him. There is no holding back in the sincere prayers of a child. I am always blessed by Sloan’s prayers, no matter how lengthy they may be.

As soon as Sloan finished his prayer, we all echoed the Amen and picked up our forks to eat. But wait! Tia wanted to pray. So we bowed again. Her prayers are generally short, sweet and to the point.

Dear Wowrd. Fank you dat we have a gweat famiwy. And fank you dat you dive us dis food. And…well…amen.

Amen!

Ah the reverence. I was momentarily tempted to pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful, thoughtful children.

Then…

Tia looked down at the pile of beef stew on her plate and wrinkled her nose.

“Is dis poop?!”

And thus, the reverence of the moment was totally gone. Sloan cracked up and Landon looked with great disdain at his plate. It took several minutes to convince him that I did not, indeed, prepare poop for dinner.

We started off grand, though, didn’t we?

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things Tagged With: , ,

My first love

March 6, 2012 By Kelli 11 Comments

My first car looked like this, only dented and rusty.

I learned to drive on a minivan. A maroon Nissan Quest to be exact. My mom pumped the invisible pedal in the driver’s seat as I quickly and um…haphazardly? navigated the streets of St. Louis. I was admittedly not a natural behind the wheel. I lacked spacial awareness. I can remember ducking more than once when I was absolutely positive the car on the other side of the road was headed straight for me. Turns out I was the one riding the center line a bit…

The weekend after I got my license I hit a parked car.

Yeah.

One particular afternoon, as I drove that sexy beast of a minivan alone (she had a sun roof, you know. *insert sexy growl here*) I zipped down the back stretch of Strecker Rd., the radio blasting the wicked awesome tunes of Green Day and The Dave Matthews Band, and I noticed a sign on the right side of the road coming up dangerously close. I leaned forward over the wheel, staring intently at the sign, wondering why on Earth it was set so close to the road when…

BAM!

I nailed the sign, the sexy beast rocked, and I panicked. I screeched into the parking lot of a nearby school and jumped out of the car to survey the damage. Nothing. I’d hit the sign with my rear view mirror. I popped the mirror back into place and headed home, determined to stay a little further away from the shoulder.

When I pulled into the garage, I was still shaking. I came in too fast and hit the garbage cans, crushing them.

Maybe I wasn’t quite ready for a license? I definitely wasn’t ready to navigate the sexy beast around town, that’s for sure.

Incidentally, I’m pretty sure my exact words after I hit the garbage can were, “I hate this stupid van. I’m never going to drive one of these again. I’m gonna be the mom with the sporty car when I have kids.”

Mmmmm….What would my sixteen year old self think if she saw me now? Driving a Nissan Quest. Midnight black, of course, because black is HAWT.

But I digress.

Shortly after the run-in with the inanimate objects, my dad came home with a car just for me. It was a rusty, dumpy Honda CRX. A mercifully smaller car which ultimately became my first love. I named her Stella.

Every morning I jumped into Stella and revved her up, listening to her whine and moan against the frigid St. Louis winter air. The heater never really worked properly and the car trembled something terrible if you hit 55 miles per hour, but boy did she have character.

I loved Stella for a lot of different reasons. First and foremost, she wasn’t a minivan. Ahem. Stella was just kind of quirky and fun. I felt like I made a statement when I drove to school. The statement was here I am. I have a car. It’s a piece of S*%$ but it’s mine and look at all the flecks of rust on her smooth white exterior.

I dunno. I just loved that car.

Until someone ran a red light my junior year as I turned left and totaled sweet Stella leaving me with whip lash and supreme sadness over the loss of My Precious. From there I had other cars, all of which had their own endearing qualities, but none quite as charming as Stella, my rusty, dumpy CRX.

My current (smokin’ hot) minivan is running a close second, though, what with all her scratches, stains and quirks. She’s paid for, is still chugging along and only has a few Tats at his point (i.e. rust marks) but will likely develop more “character” as time goes on. Gone are the days when I jam out to Green Day, Dave Matthews or, really, anyone grown up. My car rocks to the beat of KidzBop, which makes her even more endearing in an odd and sad little way.

And I’ve yet to hit a road sign OR a parked car in her.

Go. Me.

What about you? What was your first car like? Did you name it? And more importantly, are you today driving the car you thought you’d be driving when you were sixteen?

Image Credit

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Life, Minivans, Random Tagged With: , ,

The wind howls and my dog’s possessed

March 5, 2012 By Kelli 9 Comments

In the dark of night we listened to the wind howl above and around us. Our first Florida spring brings forceful winds that zip up and over our house, wrapping us in a cocoon of noise. The bushes rattle against the windows. The front door shifts forward and back with each gust. The high pitched whine of a poorly sealed window frame gives an eery voice to the darkened house.

And inside, as we hear the rain begin to pound sideways, sleep is elusive. Tia comes into our room around 3:00, scared and shaking. “My woom is making sounds,” she cries and she burrows deep beneath the covers next to me, her hot hand flung over my chest.

And then I feel it. The hot stare. Isn’t it amazing how we always know we are being watched? I open my eyes slowly, unsure of what I will see, and I gasp and jump. The dog sits over me, her dark eyes big and wide and inches from my face. Like Pet Cemetary.

Creepy.

I karate chop the air, scare the dog and jostle my finally-nearing-sleep daughter. And that was the clincher for me. Sleep would evade me for the rest of the night Saturday night. The winds did not stop howling and I couldn’t rest. The noise was too much and noise in the dark gives way to fears…most of them irrational.

What if the roof rips off?

What if a tree comes flying through a window?

What if the dog is possessed?

When day finally broke and we dragged our weary bodies from the bed, we looked out the window to find the wind had not stopped. But somehow it seemed less threatening. In fact, it was kind of beautiful the way the air seemed to move in the early morning sunlight.

Strange what a little light can do, huh?

This move has been like a massive wind storm. We are trapped inside gale force winds and sometimes it’s dark and scary. There isn’t the calm predictability of the known to lean back on, but each gust of wind brings a new change and you find yourself prone to huddling in the dark, waiting for it to end.

And you wait for the moment when the light will shine. A conversation with a friend. A bit of encouraging news. Anything to move the dark away and bring forth some sense of stability. Because even if the wind still blows in the light, at least you can see the effects the change are bringing about.

We are still caught up in the doubt and struggles that accompany a move. This past week was a rough week. For the first time I allowed myself to feel sadness. I let myself cry and miss, and it felt like sitting in a wind storm in the dark. Without warning, I found myself lost in doubt and emotion.

Why are we here?

Why can’t we find a church?

Why is home schooling the kids so hard for me?

Why do I doubt everything around me?

Why is the dog staring at me in the dark?

Why?

These are all questions I have not allowed myself to ask since we moved. I simply wouldn’t give myself over to that emotion. I couldn’t because I knew if I did, the flood gates would open. So I held them at bay and pushed everything away.

But this week, I felt a bit attacked. The Enemy was waiting for a brief moment of weakness when I let my guard down and he could sweep in with these winds of doubt and sadness. He waited for me to give in to the dark.

And I kind of think he momentarily possessed my dog because she has never stood over me all creepy-like before. Demon dog. *shudder*

Not only did I get caught up in the swirl of emotion about our move, though, but I also rode the winds in a wave of doubt over…well – just about everything. Parenting, wife-ing (I can verb wife, right?), writing…everything felt too big for me and the wind swirled.

Ugh.

I hate doubt. I hate being attacked. I hate falling to this place where I’m tossed around in the dark.

But I love that every time that happens and I cry out for help, the Lord brings someone along to shine a little light. Friends to speak wisdom and encouragement. A husband to make me feel loved and appreciated. A Bible study group to let me open up and be vulnerable.

All these work together, not to make the winds stop howling, but to at least light up the world around me. Life’s not so scary in the light.

The dog’s not either.

Image Credit

Filed Under: faith, Florida, funny stuff that happens, Grace, Life, Moving Tagged With: , , ,

So dainty and girly and…

February 29, 2012 By Kelli 6 Comments

The table was set to girly precision. Purples, pinks, greens and blues lit the room and danced around the table.

There is no greater thrill for the six year old girl than glass bowls, wrapped in ribbon and filled with candy.

The guests arrived all dressed to the nines. Skirts, dresses, hair bows and even a bit of glitter.

They smiled shyly as they each took a seat around the frilly table.

And at the head? The Birthday girl in a purple shirt, ribbon pinned proudly to her chest.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Cake was served immediately and each girl picked up her fork delicately.

The chatter was quiet and endlessly interrupted by delighted giggles.

And after the cake came the ice cream.

Of course.

You can’t have a decent ice cream party without it.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Colorful goblets filled with ice cream and topped with more sugar than should be legally allowed raised the decibel level of the room to a new level. High pitched voices joined in a cacophony of silly laughter and girlish banter.

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

They ate with gusto. Tiny mouths lined in chocolate, fingers sticky, eyes glazed in a sugary daze.

And yet, there they sat so prim, each in her seat with a grin on her face.

When the ice cream was served, the room quieted again as young ones concentrated on eating their delights.

Image couresy of Avodah Images

Then one spoke, breaking the silence.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grin. “Or I’m gonna fart.”

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

Cue uncontrollable laughter. Hands clasped over mouths and feet kicking.

And the potty talk commenced as each enjoyed tossing in her own gem of a quote.

Little girls.

They’re so dainty and girly and…

**********************

I only got a few pictures of the awesome and girly ice cream party, but my friend Jenni graciously offered to photograph the whole event for me and she got some amazing shots.

I think you should check them out.

Then check out the rest of her site at Avodah Images because she is a spectacular photographer. I’ve heard her say more than once that when she’s looking through a lens she sees God Himself as the world comes into focus. I love her heart and her pictures.

You’ll love her too.

If you’re ever in Florida and want family pictures made, Jenni is definitely your girl. She knows how to capture that one special moment and forever immortalize it for you. What a gift.

 

Image courtesy of Avodah Images

 


Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Photography, Tia Tagged With: , , , ,

Wordless Wednesday – Childhood

February 21, 2012 By Kelli 9 Comments

Dontcha just love it?!

I’m headed to Blissdom today and am giddy with delight. If you’re going to be there, look for me will you?

I’ll be the minivan mom with the pink hair standing in the corner.

Wanna be friends?


Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Landon, Tia Tagged With: , ,

No substitutes

February 16, 2012 By Kelli 2 Comments

I have now officially had my first experience of what it’s like to home school when sick.

It ain’t pretty.

While I have spent the morning coughing up my left lung (that’s barely an exaggeration) and blowing my nose, the kids have been curled up in bed with me reading books and going through flash cards.

 

Since Tia thought my voice “sounded weird” Sloan read to us today instead. He did fantastic. Except he kept reading the characters voice with a bizarre British accent, which cracked me up.

A more seasoned home schooler would probably just take the day off, but I have a hard time doing that without feeling anxious. Plus we have friends coming to visit so I don’t plan on doing school tomorrow and I will be out of town Thursday and Friday next week.

So we did school.

Russian flash cards

 

School in bed is fun!

We discussed atoms and how they bond together to form molecules, which join to create materials. The kids wanted to know if my snot was a liquid or a solid. Ah the joys of learning...

Sloan’s writing assignment today was to invent something and convince us to buy it so he wrote a commercial advertising his newest invention, the Robotic Room Cleaner 2000, which will make sure you never have dirty socks or underwear under your bed again, will eat your eggs for you and will watch TV for you when you’re grounded.

Sweet!

So I couldn’t call in a substitute today and it may not have been our most productive day of school ever, but I think we all learned a little something new. I’m going to chalk it up as a win.

What are you doing today?

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Homeschool, Kids, Sickness Tagged With: , , ,

Forever Crush

February 13, 2012 By Kelli 20 Comments

“Mom, did you have a crush on someone when you were eight like me?” he asked, his deep blue eyes searching my face as we drove down the road. This question came on the heels of our visit to the store where we gazed at the heart shaped boxes of chocolates and talked about when it’s appropriate to give someone a love card.

“I did,” I answered. “I liked a little boy named Brandon when I was in elementary school.”

“Well, is it okay to have a little crush?” he asked. If I could bottle the innocence that hung between us, I would fill up a thousand jars.

“Sure, it’s okay to have a little crush,” I answered. “But it’s better to just stay friends. You don’t need a girlfriend for a very, very long time.”

He nodded then grinned, the bliss of puppy love washing over his face. I know who he is thinking about. I saw her chasing him on the field while they played capture the flag.

“When did you start to have a boyfriend?” he asked slyly.

“Well, I dated a couple of boys in high school, but it was never too serious. There’s no reason to get serious when you’re young.”

“And then you had crushes in college, too?”

“Yep,” I answered. “I had a couple of crushes and one boyfriend in college before I met your Daddy.”

He was 25. I was 21. *sigh*

“And then HE was your crush, right?” Tia yelled from the backseat.

“He sure was,” I answered, smiling at her big, round eyes through the rear view mirror. “And you know what?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“WHAT?!” three little voices shouted back.

“He’s still my crush today.”

“You mean you’ve never had another crush?” Sloan asked.

“Nope,” I answered. “Your Daddy is my only crush and my only boyfriend forever and ever.”

“And your only husband,” Landon piped from his seat.

“Yep. That, too.”

Always and Forever.

Happy Valentine’s Day.


Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Lee, Marriage, Valentine's Day Tagged With: , , , ,

We are the minivan

January 31, 2012 By Kelli 22 Comments

A few weeks ago, I began pulling out of a parking space and my rear bumper sensor indicated someone was walking by behind me. Actually, the sensor let loose a piercing screech that caused all three kids to cover their ears and me to throw the car in park and karate chop the air while screaming HIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

Apparently my rear sensor was on the fritz. That was its last swan song. My bumper will never beep another warning. May we all share in a moment’s silence.

When I first figured out that I wouldn’t have the beep to warn me if I was going to run over a bike, or a plastic basketball goal…or the dog, I panicked slightly.

“How will I back up if I don’t have the warning signal?” I lamented.

“Um…the same way you did for the first fourteen years you drove a car,” my annoyingly amazingly practical husband answered. “Use your mirrors and turn around and look.”

Ah. Novel idea. He’s a keeper, that fella of mine. A keeper.

Of course this won’t save a stray bike that finds its way behind the back bumper, but if I hit their bikes, then hopefully lesson learned. Don’t leave your bikes under my dead rear bumper, kids. Don’t do it.

We could, naturally, get the sensor fixed – that would solve the problem lickety split, but I’m not sure I want to spend the money on that when, you know, I could just use my mirrors and turn my head around. Right?

I realize that my minivan, being a little over four years old at this point, is quickly heading down the hoopty van track. In fact, she’s sprinting there. When the bells and whistles start fading and the scratches from wayward bicycles and scooters make patterns down the sides, the luster of the minivan wanes.

Not hot.

This is part of the stigma of driving a minivan. People don’t want to drive them because when sticky, Nutella laden fingers slide down the sides and dot the windows, it becomes apparent that we’re farther away from the carefree days of our youth than we want to acknowledge.

Our moms drove minivans. Weren’t they old?

Sorry mom.

There’s another thing. Minivans get dirty. I’m pretty sure our minivan had the new car smell for 12.4 minutes. That was it.

That’s not very long.

Minivans take a beating on a daily basis for hours on end, and those of us driving them, while well-intentioned, simply can’t keep every stray french fry or Cheez-it or ham sandwich accounted for.

Some of them simply fall beneath the cracks.

Incidentally, have you noticed that french fries never mold? This is why they are the perfect food for feeding young children on the go. Drop those bad boys under the seat and never fear. They will harden into a perfect fossil – a reminder of the days when life was crazy and kids couldn’t get the food from a box to their mouths.

But no mold.

Good job McDonalds.

I’ll tell you what, though. Minivans have something something those shiny, fancy SUV’s and sports cars don’t. That’s right. They have that one thing that makes them hotter than all the rest. And that one thing is…

Um…

Ahem.

This is awkward…

Okay so a scratched up, sticky, faded, smells-like-sweaty-children-and-french-fries-fosselizing-under-the-seats minivan may not be anything more than convenient, alright? HOWEVER!

Those of us that drive the minivan, even the minivan with a broken sensor, we know that there is just something about them that makes us feel a teensy bit proud. Because every time we get in our minivans, whether they have all the bells and whistles, or perhaps just a solitary bell on its very last leg, we know that we are in the trenches. Life teems from the backseat and KidzBop screams from the speakers.

We make the minivan hot. Our families make the minivan hot. This season of life makes the minivan hot.

Hawt if you will.

And that is all.

So tell me, you minivan driving moms and dads? What about your minivan makes you feel hot/hawt?

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Life, Minivans, Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

I have a confession to make

December 22, 2011 By Kelli 16 Comments

I need to tell you all something and it may be hard to hear. Maybe you should sit down for this. Wait – what’s that? You’re already sitting? Oh. Um…Great! That’s really…super.

*sigh*

Look I didn’t mean to be deceptive. You must believe me when I say that. I really truly to my core wanted to believe it was true, but the fact of the matter is…

I guess…I mean, what I’m trying to say is…

I don’t always think minivans are hot.

I’M SO SORRY!

I know you’re disappointed. I know that I have been steadily convincing all of you over the last couple of years that they are, indeed, a sexy means of transportation but-

Hmmm?

What now?

You didn’t believe me?

You don’t think minivans are hot either?!

*hangs head in shame*

I went to the salon yesterday with my hair piled in a bun on top of my head where it has remained for the past year and a half. I sat down dramatically in the chair and yanked out the ponytail holder, letting the golden orange locks spill onto my shoulders.

“I was trying to save money,” I said pitifully as she gingerly combed through the brassy gold locks. “The box said my hair would turn a dark blonde.”

“The box lied,” she said.

“Well, I need you to fix it and I need you to give me a total hair makeover. Drastic. Edgy. Fun.”

And then, friends, I uttered the words that revealed the deception of my heart.

“I do not want to look like I drive a minivan.”

OH THE SHAME!

Forgive me?

She fixed my hair, then she chopped it off. Waaaaaaayyyyyy off. And she covered up the brass up top. Then we made it just a tiny bit more fun.

PINK!

Just a little pink...for fun.

 

When I first mentioned to Lee that I wanted to put pink highlights in my hair, I told him that the only thing holding me back was the fact that I’m a mom who drives a minivan.

“I don’t want the kids to end up taking me on Maury Povich someday under the unfortuante title MY MOM DOESN’T DRESS HER AGE!” I moaned.

But I have to tell you that as I strutted out to the parking lot, my van glinting in the afternoon sun, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence. I’m a minivan mom, yes. But I’m a minivan mom with pink in her hair and I happen to really love it. And suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about being said minivan mom.

Even my van felt a bit edgier and more fun! With all the scratches running down the sides from the kids’ bikes, I’d venture to say my van is down right punk.

Lest you should worry that my pink highlights are going to my head, I bid you fear not. I do retain the humbling necessity that will ever remind me of my minivan mom (and ever aging) status and that is the pair of the glasses that I have to wear now because my eyes are wearing down on me.

They do give me a respectable minivan mom look, though, don’t they?

I’m sorry I let you down, dear readers, but I hereby pledge to continue the valiant fight to erase the stigma of the dreaded minivan. I will say it over and over until I believe it to my core.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot…

Say it with me?

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot…

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Minivans, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,
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