That one little thing....

Ok, so starting very early in life, girls start to compare themselves to other girls. They start to notice things like another girl's cute dress or her pretty bracelet or her cute pink toenails. I've already noticed this trend amongst my four-year-old and her little friends at 'school'. In fact, it's for this very reason that I was almost late to work not once but twice last week-- Libby just HAD to find her pink 'diamond' necklace before we could possibly leave the house.

Well, in the midst of comparing ourselves to others, we start to realize there are things we just don't LOVE about ourselves. In fact, I believe that as the time passes, many girls will come to focus on that one little thing they dislike the MOST about how they were made. For me, this is.....no, not my height. I've come to accept the fact that God wanted me to be short, and I am completely fine with the fact that I'm three inches shy of needing a booster seat. No, for me the only thing I just simply don't like about myself is my hair. Stuck somewhere between straight and curly, it has a mind of its own, and to be completely honest-- we just don't jive. Although my mother tells me time after time how beautiful it is, how much she loves it, etc. (aren't moms always great at that sort of thing?), I think this is somewhat of a grass-is-always greener scenario. You can try to sugarcoat it all you like, but the point is- I'm just not a fan.

Well, I've come to realize in my twenty-nine years that in order to be happy, we have to find ways to work around those bumps in the road. So, in order to settle a peace treaty between the two of us, I've decided to make some lemonade from the rather unpleasant lemons I've been dealt in the hair department. So, for the second time in my life, I donated eight inches of my hair last week to help an adult woman who has lost her hair due to breast cancer. I donated through an organization called Beautiful Lengths, sponsored by Pantene. And this time, I donated with a former student turned friend, which made this lemonade twice as sweet. :)

And the responses I've gotten this time have so closely reflected the ones I got last time.....wasn't it hard to cut off all of you hair? This seems to be the question on everyone's mind. Well, the answer is: no! Not one little bit! In fact, the hard part for me is waiting for my hair to get long enough TO donate. This go round took me about two years of growing to reach the donate mark. The cutting to me is the best part. It feels really good to know that I'm doing something to bring help to someone else, someone who is undoubtedly hurting and suffering. The best part to me is that it's someone I don't know and will probably never meet. I love the idea of helping to make the day of a complete stranger. I also love the fact that one girl's 'junk' can become another girl's 'treasure'.

Oh so very friendly

One more thing for today, and then I promise I'm done. So, earlier I told you about how funny Libby is. Did I also mention that she's friendly? So friendly in fact, that she can find a friend literally anywhere. She's not picky....she'll even be your friend if you're made of plastic and don't talk....or move.....or breathe, for that matter. Don't you just love kids?

A person's a person, no matter how small

Many of you have heard me talk lately about my friend Heather and her triplets. In fact, if you are in my address book, I've probably asked you to pray for her. I want to take a minute to tell you a little bit about her story, in the hopes that it will touch your heart the way it has touched mine.

First, Heather is literally my oldest friend. We met when we were four, the age my daughter is today. We then attended the same school and were in the same classes from pre-kindergarten all the way through seventh grade. She was, and still is, one of my most cherished friends.

There's just something special about the friends that share your history. You know, those friends that you don't have to provide any background to or describe your relatives to when telling a story because they know exactly who, what, when, and where you are referring to, possibly even before you get to that part. Heather is one of my few friends who knew me before my parents got divorced and whom I have shared so much of my life with for the past twenty-five, yes twenty-five, years.

Heather is the kind of person who was born to be a mom. She comes from a big family, and if we choose to have (or are given anyway) another child, I will model my household after hers. Yes, they had their share of chaos, but I always felt welcome at her home. I always knew that her parents would take whatever it was in stride and even laugh about it later. Her house was always warm and inviting- a true home, if you will. And Heather, the only girl amongst four brothers, was always a mom to someone. I think this is partly why she chose to become a nurse...she's a natural fixer and comforter.

She will be the kind of mom who lets her kids fingerpaint....on the carpet.....twice. She'll make the fingerpaint herself, from Earth-friendly ingredients and natural dyes, and then sit back and watch while her kids paint everything in sight, smiling the whole time. And then, when they eat the paint (trust me- they ALWAYS eat the paint), Heather won't get mad or frustrated. She'll just say, "Well, what does yellow taste like?" (Needless to say, this is the kind of mom I would LOVE to one day become, but I would have a long way to go.)

She won't be picky about how straight their rooms are or if their hair looks perfect. She won't get caught up in worrying about them having the slightest bit of dirt on their shirt or all of her dishes being done before she goes to bed. But, her kids will always feel loved, know they are special, and be taught as much as one kid can be taught. They will be amazing, she will be amazing, and it will be amazing to watch the whole thing unfold.

Well, twenty-four weeks and five days into her much anticipated pregnancy, after facing problem after problem after problem, Heather has officially become a mother. Her three miracles were born this past Sunday. I literally cannot wait to meet Mary Louise, David Oliver, and Kuylen Stafford.

Being born so prematurely, I know the three of them (as well as Heather and Brent, her beloved hubby), have a long road ahead of them. But, you know, if anyone can handle this and come out smiling, it will be Heather. She will take each day in stride, rise to meet this ultimate challenge, and be made an even better, humble, wise, and wonderful person when all is said and done.

So, with all this being said, please pray for Heather, Brent, her family, and of course, three of the luckiest kids I know. If you'd like to stay up-to-date on their progress, please check her blog http://www.leblanctriplets.blogspot.com/ . I can't wait to share "when your mom was little" stories with them all and to celebrate another twenty-five years of being her friend....ok, well maybe I can wait on the twenty-five years part.

Our Little Libby

As many of you know, Libby Baker is quite the little hoot. She's literally the funniest kid I've ever known. She's not funny in the normal way kids are funny, like when they make a funny face or try something new for the first time. No, Libby is truly a natural born comedian. She has the best comedic timing and is quite the entertainer. If I were even half as funny as Libby is, I believe life would be just a little bit sweeter.

A few weeks ago, we were at Lee's parent's house and were trying to decide where we wanted to eat. We were torn between Mexican and Chinese. Well, Lib's Uncle Brad decided that the easiest way to decide was the flip a coin. He gets out a coin, flips, and tells Lib to call it. She looks at me......she looks at Lee......she looks at Brad......and then, in her best hide and seek style of voice, she says,

" Penny......oh Penny.........."

The best part is, it was a dime.

And it was right around this time last year when I quit my beloved Lewisburg job to move. I went to pick up Libby after a long day of quitting the best job ever and was beyond down in the dumps. Well, Libby, the fixer, asked, "What's wrong, Mommy?"

I replied, " Mommy is just sad becuase she won't get to teach at Lewisburg anymore, Lib."

And then here's the Libby that I love, " Well, you know, the Indians KILLED Daniel Boone, Mom."

While doing my best to stiffle my laughter so as not to discourage future prophetic phrases from my daughter, I simply replied, "Well, when you put it that way, Libby, I guess today wasn't so bad."

Needless to say, she was pleased with my response.

So, point being, I cannot wait to see the sort of trouble my little one will get into in the years to come. And I don't think I will ever stop thanking God for giving me a front row seat to witness this very entertaining show I call Libby.

No turning back now......

Ok, so there's officially no turning back now: I have entered the wonderful world of blogging. But I must say that it's not without reservation. What if no one is interested in what I have to say? What if no one cares about my boring little life? Well, I've decided that surely SOMEONE will find my ramblings interesting, worthwhile, and maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit amusing. I guess only time will tell.