Curls and Cute-isms

I love long hair on little girls. I love playing with it, putting it up in adorable little hairstyles...I've always been secretly thrilled when my girls were born with lots of hair, because it means it doesn't take as long to get to the fun hanging-down-to-their-shoulders length. But lately I keep chopping Hannah's hair off short -- because it's so precious curling all around her head! It does this 100% naturally, and I just can't resist that curly little head! I wonder how long she'll let me keep her hair this short?? :-)

Yesterday Ashley informed me very seriously that she is almost 12. When I protested, she said, "Well Mummy, I will be very busy until I am 12, so it will be very fast." How can a three year old be that wise?

And speaking of being wise...I usually let the girls try a sip of my latte or frappucino when I get a drink from Starbucks, or an espresso stand, or even when I make it myself. (No, that's not the wise part. Go ahead and judge me for that part!) Lately Ashley keeps insisting that since she is almost four (not until October -- but she's been claiming almost for a while now), she is surely old enough to have her very own coffee. So yesterday I tried to convince her that she was drinking "kid coffee". Suspiciously she sipped, eyed me, sipped again, and finally announced, "Mummy, your coffee tastes like coffee, but my coffee tastes like juice!"

On Being Reassembled!

When Lamont and I were first married he would come home from work and just wrap me up in a big, tight hug that went on and on. He'd rest his chin on my head and just hold me like that, and finally let go with a smile and the most tender look. He told me those hugs were when he let go of all the things from the day that had pulled and tugged him in a hundred different directions, and just put himself back together. He still does it now and then, when life has been roaring past us so quickly that little pieces of ourselves break off and fly away in the power of it. He'll pull me into a hug and whisper that he needs to put himself back together...it makes me feel so precious.

This week Lamont and the girls went to the Oregon coast for four days to visit with his family, and because I had a commitment here that I couldn't escape, I stayed home alone. (Note: in blog posts shortly to follow we will address the positive and possibly hilarious aspects of my time alone, but for now we are going to wallow wholeheartedly in sentimentality. Embrace it.) I may or may not have cried for a minute when they drove away, and I felt a little empty the whole time they were gone. I talked to the girls a couple times each day, and couldn't wait for those phone calls! Pieces of me were missing, and I felt it more every evening when I went to bed alone, every morning when I slept late and woke up at the rather heathenish hours of 8 or 9, and every time I came home and opened the door to a house that was spotless -- but silent.

Last night my precious ones came home. I was so excited that I spent the last 5 minutes or so waiting outside for them, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other and trying my best to look calm and casual so my neighbors wouldn't laugh at me. Urgent and very mature need to...uh...experiment with the springiness of the lawn, don't you know! Moments after they pulled in, the doors were all flung open, and I had Bethany and Hannah in my arms squeezing me tightly around the neck, Ashley dancing and swinging around my legs and chattering a million miles an hour, and Lamont kissing me with a smile over all the little heads.

And I knew exactly what Lamont always meant with that special hug, because in that moment as my family piled out of the van to smother me with hugs and kisses, I was putting myself back together.