little fountains

Many people have commented recently about the Chica looking less like a baby and more like a little girl. Danny was out of town for several days last week and when he returned, he said there was a noticeable difference.

It could be that her legs are getting longer. Or that her face is less round. But I like to think the reason she's looking so mature is that her hair is getting longer. It's long enough to have bad hair days. I noticed this Sunday when she woke up with a major case of bed head and a mother clueless to a solution. As we drove to church, I broke the bad news. "Welcome to life as a woman, honey."


There is an upside to longer hair. While length subjects you to frequent "off coif" days, it looks much better pulled back. I nearly squealed when I uploaded some pictures to our computer and realized her ponytails were looking less like little caterpillar antennae and more like splendid little fountains.



See? Fountains at their finest.

our little graduate

Last Thursday was the Chica's last day of her "school year". She has attended a day care program at a local church all year and, as far as I can tell has loved it. We're switching her to a different program closer to work. So I was a little emotional (surprise, surprise!) about her last day. I took a couple of pictures of her before we left.

At the end of her last day, the entire school put on a program. They wheeled her class up in a huge, red, six seater buggy. She looked like she was watching a tennis match. Her head would swivel from the singing children, to the blinding flashes of the paparazzi audience. Back and forth. At one point she tried to shove the little boy next to her over the edge of the buggy. I said a quick prayer of gratitude for the inventor of buggy seatbelts.

Then they showed a slideshow of pictures from the year, with all those sad songs about babies growing up and leaving their parents playing in the background. That's just kicking an emotional mama of a horse when she's down. Quite spiteful if you ask me. I sat in the audience trying not to ugly cry.

I kind of ugly cried anyway.

I'm not sure my heart can take 17 more "graduations."

ode to dad-o

He's the best mode of transportation.


He makes the unknown less intimidating.


He never asks you to do something he's not willing to do himself.


And his shoulder is always there for crying, resting, or just plain being.


Happy birthday Daddy/Dan'l. You just get better and better because you learn from the best Father of all.

Love,
Your Girls

the sad reality of it all

Can we talk reality TV for a second? I am SO bummed my boy Danny Gokey got kicked off American Idol. :( I knew I should have voted. Think my vote could have changed the outcome?

Adam Lambert is very talented. Incredible stage presence. But if I had to listen to an entire cd of his screaming, I'd throw it out the car window. The guyliner bugs me too.

I'm not crazy about Kris. But I hope he will pull off an upset. Or as Simon called it "a ding dong."
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I've watched the past few weeks of Dancing with the Stars. And I'm glad I didn't see it before now. Because I have a problem with a former professional cheerleader being a contestant. If ABC asks for my opinion (I'm expecting a call any day now) I'd tell the producers it's unfair to the other contestants. A person with a background in dance shouldn't be allowed to enter a contest where you learn how to dance. The end.
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SO thankful Annie didn't win Celebrity Apprentice. This is another show I jumped in towards the end. Just long enough to develop a deep and abiding fear of Annie. Holy cow I thought either she or Joan weren't going to survive the finale. Someone was fixing to lay the smack down.
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There you have it. I feel better now. I would give you a recap of Real Housewives NYC, but that would mean I'd have to fess up to actually watching that show. And if I ever were to admit to watching that show, I'd never confess such a thing on the world wide web.:)

Goodnight bloggers!

order in the court!

I've had a little more free time these past couple of weeks, and hallelujah, have had time to do some reading. While I'm thrilled at the opportunity, (it doesn't take much to get me excited) it presents a bit of a conundrum. Here's the problem.

I should probably read this.


And this.


And definitely this.


But all I really want to read is this.


I'll still be a frazzled female, but at least I'll be a frazzled female who knows how to object, sustain and overrule. :)

grass man

My hunk of a husband has spent the past two weeks working our land. Toiling over our terrain. If you have any hope your little grassy patch of property surviving the summer, it's going to take some manhandling. In the immortal words of Kermit the Frog, "It's not easy being green." Amen Kermit. Amen.

That's especially true with Mississippi grass. It's the grossest, most awful stuff ever. When we go back to Missouri, one of the things I covet most is the grass. Isn't that sad? I drive around town staring at people's yards, marveling at how beautiful it all is. That is how grass is supposed to look.

*Side note* Did you know in the midwest you mow the lawn, but in the south you cut the grass?

Last summer, in the throes of baby survival, our poor grass got neglected. Just like our sleep. This year, we're back in business, thanks to several days of rain, a bottle of Round Up, some fertilizer and of course, my husband's hunkiness. I'm expecting the PGA to show up at our door any moment to tee off.


Isn't she just beautiful? She takes my breath away. I could stare at her all day long.

And the baby's pretty cute too.

cry baby

People remark all the time, "Your baby is so happy. Does she ever cry?" And the truth is, yes she is a happy baby. At least I think she is. Then again, I only have one baby so I don't really have anyone to provide a comparison.


And you know what? To this day I have yet to see her cry.


I don't think in all her days my baby has ever cried.


She's yet to shed a single tear.


But that's perfectly normal, right?