July and August are often referred to as summer vacation. Doesn’t that sound restful? Summer. Mmmm. Vacation. Ahhh.
I, however, have been finding that summer is just a different kind of crazy. With all of the beach time and visitors and BBQ’s and outside time (and, and, and)…there is barely time to do things like the laundry and cleaning the bathrooms (and maybe even play with pretty paper). I feel like there’s a million things to do and no time in the day to do them. Add to the fact that it’s month-end and there is all of the self-employed government stuff to deal with. I’m feeling bizzay.
Then I received an urgent phone call yesterday and now I’m cramming in a bunch of contract work in the next two weeks. Because I have so much free time. I seem to have a penchant for the crazy-busy.
Crazy busy = dead brain cells. So? I will do a random post about our random weekend.
This morning I walked into my closet in the hopes of deciding what to wear to church today. Ours is a church where you can wear just about anything, but I like to dress up a little on Sundays.
I don’t have much in the way of dresses. One dress hanging in my closet is one that I got a couple of weeks ago and had yet to wear anywhere. It is a white halter-style dress with an uneven hem. The slightest breeze makes the skirt float about like wispy clouds on a spring day. It is a dress that makes me feel like a little girl who wants to prance and twirl and dance about.
Maybe it was a little too over-the-top for church?
I stepped out of the closet to ask Matthew his opinion. He smiled from ear to ear and told me I was beautiful…then nodded in agreement. He thought maybe I was right. Maybe?
Graham looked up from his toy and said, “Mommy! You look so pretty!”
Awww.
Nathan turned to see what the fuss was about. “Mommy! You look like a Princess!”
Sold!
I then wondered aloud if maybe I should still wear another dress. They were both adamant that I wear that dress. They wanted me to be a Princess today.
I put Emily in her white dress and Matthew snapped a few shots of his girls before we left.
At church my friends all bestowed the sweetest of compliments upon me and I did not feel overdressed in the slightest. I just felt pretty, which is never a bad thing.
I need those rare days where I get to be the Princess. It makes up for the rest of the days where I feel more like an ogre.
Tina over at Red Dirt Road has helped me once again by re-formatting my sidelog for me. She’s a superstah! If you have any web design needs…GO SEE HER.
Comments Off I couldn’t form a coherent though today if my life depended on it. I know. Nothing new.
So instead, I will show you this and dare you not to smile.
Can’t help yourself, can you?
I have been a little sensitive the last few days. It’s about the right time of the month for me to be this way. As a result, things people have said to me about my baby girl have started to make me grumpy. I should just rent The Notebook, have a good cry, and be done with it. In the meantime, I’m going to post about it here.
I know that people don’t intend to be insensitive, just as I don’t intend to be insensitive (yet have a remarkable talent for insensitivity some days). Instead of being a smarty pants, I will respond the comments with pictures. Her beauty says it all.
Comments/questions that I have fielded lately:
1. Is she ever going to get any hair?
I could say, “Oh, it’s growing, but I just shave it. Think of the cost I’ll save on hair products!”
Instead I will reply with this:
2. Look at those teeth! They’re pretty big, hey?
I could say, “All the better to bite you with.”
Instead I will reply with this:
3. Her eyes are SO huge! I have never seen eyes that large on a baby.
I could reply, “She actually has X-Ray vision. She loves your leopard-print underwear.”
Instead I will reply with this:
I know that people are making small-talk, but it’s just hard sometimes, you know? It’s difficult being a girl with all of the body image/beauty insecurities that come with being part of the female gender. I was an awkward teenager; shy and chubby and not at all comfortable in my own skin. Heck, some days I still get flashes of those awfully uncomfortable feelings of inadequacy. So when anyone says anything other than the fact that she is absolutely gorgeous, those teenage feelings return and my Mother Bear instinct roars into action. I’m dreading the day when somebody says/does something to her that makes her feel any less than the perfect example of God’s handiwork that she is.
Because in my eyes? She’s the prettiest thing that you ever did see. She is breathtakingly beautiful in her baldness and random tooth-sprouting.
If you dare say otherwise to her, may a flock of a thousand seagulls swarm you and pelt you with droppings.
