Oh wait, I guess I always have bad hair...
It's just that Mulletman said he wants me to grow my bangs out, so now I have worse hair. I try to do cute things with clips, but it's a thinly veiled attempt at hairstyling that always seems to fall flat - literally. I, personally think I look older sans bangs, but the man looks at me more than I look at me, so I'm going for it!
2. Next change? Mulletman's name. I will no longer be calling my beloved "Mulletman" on this blog. Henceforth he shall be known as the BHE. ie. the Best Hubby Ever.
This is NOT because he is growing his bangs out too. Au contraire. He still has his wonderful curly mullet. However, mullets tend to get a bad rap and I want nothing negative associated with the Best Hubby Ever. (For the record, his curly mullet is very becoming and I love it! His uncle hates it and his parents barely tolerate it, but that's another story...)
And what, you may ask, qualifies him as the BHE? Many, many things, not the least of which is...
Are you ready?
If you've been reading my blog for long, you might want to sit down...
Are you sitting down?
'Cause if you aren't sitting down I will not be responsible for your reaction...
(No, we're not pregnant.)
HE'S BUILDING ME A GOAT PEN AND SHED SO WE CAN GET DAIRY GOATS OF OUR VERY OWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Needless to say, I am PSYCHED! I have been farm sitting all week and he's been most interested in all the milk and milk products I've been making. He's been pumping our goaty friends for feed prices and equipment requirements and has been discussing breed preferences.
It's all very dizzying! Especially when you consider we're talking about
Mulletment BHE, the animal hater! The opposer of pets! The slanderer of all things furry and soft!
Naturally I will keep you all updated. Right now I am busy researching so we will be fully prepared when our new furry family members move in. We'll either buy pregnant does this Fall or get baby does in the Spring.
3. The third change is my attitude toward GrammaJ. Having my mom move up here to be near us has been one of the greater challenges of my life. We've never been particularly close and when I moved away from home - I'm just being honest here - I never missed her even one iota.
No. I am NOT proud of that.
I am from a disfuctional family du jour and have always gaped in wonderment at people with close families. Folks who still missed their deceased parents years after they died totally befuddled me. People who moved back home because they missed their parents or siblings confused me. Adults who actually know they're cousins names and get together with them "just because" seemed quite alien to me.
In theory, BHE and I had always said we'd "take care" of our folks when they got old. That's what good Christian kids are supposed to do. In reality, we were hoping things would never get to that point. Frankly, we LIKED our isolation and the simplicity of only having to deal with our own children.
Then the Folks moved up to be near us. They live in an apartment attached to our house.
Then GrammaJ came up. She was a in poor physical shape, poor financial shape, and in poor emotional shape. BHE and I were torn. She is quite eccentric and got on both our nerves on every visit we ever made back home. She's opinionated, she talks too much, and she tries so hard to make our family relationship perfect that she makes us want to scream and run away. It was hard having his folks here, but at least we can get along with them. It seemed caring for GrammaJ was going to be rough ride.
And it has been. The move here was hor.ri.ble. I can say, without exception, it was the most exhausting and difficult thing I EVER did. Her living situatiion was stressful: She could have lived with us and taken her time finding a place to live, but we can't have her cats here - BHE is allergic to cats. But she wouldn't give them up or even let me locate a temporary home for them. That put us into rush-to-find-an-apartment mode.
And the one I found here wasn't all that spiffy. At all. Then she had TWO surgeries and we got the flu and I hated taking her shopping and I was embarassed to be with her and BHE and I were both rude to her and often hard on her. I dreaded every moment with her. It was awful!
Ok, ok...I/we was/were awful.
And God, being good like He is, said That won't do. Because, unlike us, He didn't see her as an obnoxious, embarassing little old lady. So He started working on our hearts. And some of that work was painful - He had alot of selfish garbage to cut out!
And He used many of you. You left me the weirdest comments whenever I wrote about her saying how "cute" she was. How "fun"! What a "character"!
I thought you were all nuts!
In the meantime, the girls and I, and sometimes BHE were visiting the nursing home on a regular basis. God started convicting me that I thought it was enjoyable visiting other people's obnoxious, eccentric parents , but that I chafed at visiting my own.
A shift started, almost imperceptibly, in my thinking. After 3 years, I suddenly realized that my mom is...a cute little old lady. She IS eccentric, but she is also smart and funny and, in many ways, quite wise. She is actually FUN to be with and I LIKE doing things for her and WITH her.
No, it is not always convenient to take her shopping or fix things in her house or weed her garden, but it also no longer a loathesome burden. Rather, it is a privilege to be able to serve her.
So, thank you, Lord for changing my dark and selfish heart to make me just a wee bit more like YOU.
Change is Good when it comes form God!