Beauty Queen

Sarah was joining the rest of us in the bathroom this morning as we brushed hair and prepared for school.

She had stolen the one brush good for ponytails and was repeatedly brushing one section of hair.  I questioned her about how long she was going to be.

She replied, knowing she had something we wanted, "Only a few years."

Oy. 

Is There Any Extra?

When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, we were living in Arizona and my dad was stationed at Luke AFB in Phoenix.  He would rise before dawn and leave for work just as the sky was lightening.  That was generally before anyone else was awake.

He used to make some kind of breakfast drink with raw eggs and honey, and probably some kind of grain (though I only truly remember the egg and honey).

I loved his drink!  I would probably think it disgusting now, but it was the best tasting thing to me back then.  I used to wake up while my dad was getting ready for work and wait for him to come to the kitchen.  He would give me a tiny bit of the drink in a little cup.  So delicious.  Truthfully, I think much of the taste was the emotional connection to the drink and a little girl catching some stolen pre-dawn moments with her daddy.

Eventually, he stopped making the breakfast drink and I stopped waking early to get it. I was told that he was just trying to avoid sharing his breakfast. I don't know if that's true or not, but as I am not a morning person and prefer to have a solo breakfast, I can see it as a likely reason.

Fast forward over three decades...

I now make a breakfast drink.  Mine doesn't include raw eggs or honey but bananas, ice, peanut butter, almond milk, and a few drops of essential oils.

And I have a 2nd grader who hopes for some of it every morning.   I have to consciously make extra for him, but he always wants it - even when I mistakenly put frankincense oil in instead of something else.  He hears the blender and comes over asking, "Is there any extra?"

A lot of time I can hand him a tiny bit in a little cup, and enjoy history repeating itself.

Are They ALL Yours?

If I had a dollar for every time I get this question...

We were at Lowe's last week and the conversation went like this:

Clerk: "Are all these kids yours?"

Me:  "How many are there?" (I didn't look up from swiping my card.)

C: "Six."

M:  "Yes.  I had to make sure we didn't pick up any extras while we were shopping."

I'm not sure what impels someone to ask this question.  It doesn't really bother me, but I do hear it a lot.  Usually I am happy to claim all the kids because they are great human beings.

Sometimes we get someone who wants to compliment the kids on their good behavior.  I usually end up ruining the moment by saying something like, "You didn't see them two minutes ago."  Sadly, two minutes ago might have prevented the compliment!

And that is why some days I answer the first question with, "Maybe." But that would be more believable if they didn't all look so similar to each other!

Dusting Off the Rusty Fingers

This is it!  My first personal blog post in over two and a half years.  I used to be a pro at this;  now I feel like I am starting over.

I am not going to attempt to recall all that has happened since January 2013.  I will start anew and try to keep up with the crazy things that happen in the course of a day or hour.  That will be enough to keep me typing!

So if you are joining me on this journey, please feel free to comment.  I communicate better if I can picture an audience.  There is no "like" button on a blog, so speak up!