Have you ever? (The parking edition)

This afternoon I decided to brave the below-freezing temperatures and head to the mall. The kids were home for a half-day today, and Hannah was in need of some entertainment. The boys were having a play date, and she was stuck at home with mom (a fate worse than death, I know).

She has become an ardent scrapbooker (read: she likes to rifle through my stuff) and I figured an outing to the local scrapbook store would serve several purposes today. One, it would get her some new supplies and increase the chance that she actually leaves my stuff alone; two, it would give us something fun to do together; and, three, it would enable me to spend more of the Husband's money on pretty paper, ribbons, and such (which just so happens to be one of my favorite things to do with his money).

So we bundled ourselves up and headed out. Seeing as it is literally eight degrees today, I circled the parking lot repeatedly, looking for a spot close to the doors. I spied one on the front row, and headed toward it with glee. That glee was short lived, however, when I noticed it was designated parking for expectant mothers only.

Oh, for half a second I actually wished I was pregnant.

I stopped. I hesitated. I mentally debated whether or not I looked pudgy enough in my winter coat to be able to get away with it (which sadly, I probably do). But in the end, the thought of some poor actual pregnant person having to walk farther in the cold because of me was enough to compel me to do the right thing.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to the mile-long walk in the cold, and headed for a parking spot farther out. As Hannah and I approached that front-row mother's spot on our way inside, another car was pulling in.

And to my horror, a very obviously-not-pregnant person was getting out of the car. How could I be sure, you ask?

BECAUSE IT WAS A MAN.

Yes, a lone man was parking in the expectant mother's parking spot. You can be sure that my frozen face scowled as fierce as one could in the sub-freezing air.

I don't think he noticed, what with his short, warm trip inside the mall.

So, once again, I reminded myself not to judge, and prayed that a real pregnant person was not stuck in the cold longer because of him.

But it begs me to ask -- have you ever parked in that spot when you weren't pregnant? How about the handicapped spot? Ever parked there when you know you shouldn't have?

Discuss.

Rock star

This chick has serious 80s rock star hair every morning at the breakfast table. It goes well with her nightly concoction of mismatched pajamas and a summer swim dress -- which is best worn over the jammies. I mean, duh. How else would one wear a swim dress in the middle of winter while one is sleeping?

I have given up creative control when it comes to her wardrobe, and that includes the night time. She is far too stubborn for me to ever win anyway, and I decided I would save that battle for another day. Like if she ever tries to peg her jeans and wear her bangs straight up, six inches higher than her forehead.

Which I totally know is going to happen someday. That kind of bad stuff has a way of repeating itself.

She is definitely not a morning person (wonder where she gets that from?), and usually spends a good half hour in silence, with a look on her face like this one:


Don't worry, girlfriend. I can totally relate.

But eventually she warms up to us, and starts talking. Once the talking starts, it doesn't stop until her tiny head hits the pillow at night. Which is where the hair magic happens all over again.

Dang, I love this little girl something fierce.

Still, she will probably kill me when she sees these pictures.

And if that happens, remind the Husband that I forbid him from ever marrying anyone who doesn't outweigh me by at least double.

And no, dear husband, I do not weigh a mere 55 pounds.

Her inability to love and appreciate herself fully

I just got a call from a friend who had been helping out with the first grade thanksgiving party at the school.

She had been sitting with a group of children doing an activity, and Hannah was part of her group. The children were taking turns sharing things they were thankful for.

Some were thankful for their families. Some were thankful for their homes. One or two kids were even thankful for school.

It came time for Hannah to share something she was thankful for. Guess what my sweet, selfless girl said?

"I am thankful for myself."

Um, yeah.

Healthy self-esteem, anyone?

Because I need to know I'm bringing at least one of them up right

[Hannah, in the left front corner. First day photo courtesy of her fabulous teacher]

Today, the Princess came home from school and said the words that set my heart all a flutter:

"I don't know why, but I love to keep my school supplies neat and organized. It really helps me to feel so happy inside."

I am now 100 percent convinced we got the right baby at the hospital.

She had me worried for a few years there, what with her unbridled love of all things pink and High School Musical, but now I am sure.

She is so mine it's scary.

Gracias, mine interpeeps

How much do I love the internet today?

So, so much.

You sure do know how to make a girl feel good. Even you lurkers that decided to come out and play. I thank you. From the bottom of my very short-haired heart. I think next time I'm feeling bad about myself, I will whine about it here, and wait for you all to make me feel pretty again. Seriously, thank you. Your kind words meant a lot to me. I am just blown away by all of it.

Now onto other non-hair related things (you mean the world doesn't revolve around my hair? Shocking, but true).

Yesterday was the first day of school. A buzz of energy, the kids got all ready in about six minutes, and then sat around waiting until it was time to go. When the time finally arrived, there was some moaning as they lugged their school supplies to the bus stop, which I was absolutely no help with. I mean, someone had to be snapping pictures, right? Who else will document these milestones?

Once at the bus stop, I forced them to endure the gratuitous, cheesy smile pose that moms everywhere are snapping this time of year. Backpacks on, freshly scrubbed faces, new clothes. Note to self: Must get more creative for next year. I'm thinking headstands on backpacks, human pyramid, flame-thrower in the background. Something.

McKay had a lot more anxiety and nervousness about this year, which surprised me. Poor kid could hardly eat anything for breakfast because his stomach was all in knots. Lucky for him, I ate enough for the two of us. Just trying to keep the universe balanced and all that (or so I'm trying to tell my thighs).


Hannah was definitely the most excited, "Aboutstartingfirstgrade! Ohmygoodness!! I'minfirstgradenow!! I can'tbelieveI'mfinallysogrownup!! I'minfirstgrade!!!" And that's exactly how it sounded all morning, I kid you not.
Chase was hardly nervous at all - telling his usual round of jokes, searching the ground for frogs, and asking how soon it was until lunchtime.

But in the end, only my baby girl looked back.


But only for a second, and then she was gone. Leaving me, my checkbook, my novels, and daytime movies all alone.

Whatever shall I do?