Change is in the Air...and in the Heart

1. The first changes relate to my groovy self: I am losing weight (remember all that weight I lost a while back? It came back. With friends), buffing up, and have bad hair.

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...

He said...

(No, we're not pregnant.)

That...

HE'S BUILDING ME A GOAT PEN AND SHED SO WE CAN GET DAIRY GOATS OF OUR VERY OWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Woooooooooot!!!

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.

*Squeal!!!!*

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!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow...

It's happening again.

I go to the little drawer in the bathroom vanity where I keep my hair accessories and notice that it is growing bare, bereft of an adequate supply of hair elastics, barrettes and so forth. This is troubling because I am a walking case of chronic bad hair.

My hair is thin and fine and wispy and silky - and now, thanks to a serious infusion of unruly silver - fuzzy. On a good day it looks cute, but good days are rare and require a perfect mix of mild humidity and planet alignments and cooperating hormones and no wind or heat or static or stress. A good day would also require that I actually get my hair cut/trimmed more than once every year and a half...

Like I said, VERY rare.

So I search far and wide to find accessories that A. are pretty and B. will actually stay in my silky hair without sliding out 10 minutes later. The first requirement is fairly easy to meet. American stores are FULL of cute/pretty/sassy hair ornaments. However, the second stipulation is much more difficult to fulfill. I often buy promising elastics or clips or barrettes only to find that they can't stay the course. They either give me a headache or they continually slide away.

Needless to say, when I do find something I like, something that works, I make good use of it. Right now I have some really pretty elastic scrunchies in fabulous jewel-tones. I have some wee little clips that stay in and look nice (as long as I use several of them) and I have a couple of barrettes clips that pass muster if I double my hair through them.

That was plenty and I was content...................Until recently.

Because recently "it" started to happen. My hair adornments began to disappear. One day I'd be happily wearing my burgundy scrunchy, the next day it was nowhere to be found. I opted for the little clippies, but could only find three. I scrounged for the barrettes, but there was only one- and it looked gungy because the finish was scratched off.

Hmmmm, where could all my hair goodies be? I settled for the teal scrunchy and set out to search my pockets. Sometimes the wind gets wild or I mess up my coif wrestling with goats and I stuff my hair things in my pocket.

No luck. There was nothing in my pockets except used tissues, gum wrappers and an old grocery list and a defunct coupon.

"Mulletman? Have you seen my scrunchies?" Mulletman has long hair and he does use elastics to pull his ringlets (sigh) into a tail or a braid, but he doesn't use my more feminine scrunchies - and he certainly doesn't use my wee little clippies or barrettes. He was no help at all.

Just then, a lovely brown-haired tween breezed past me on her way to the bathroom, her own early morning head looking like a robin's nest of tangles. I temporarily abandoned my search to refortify myself with coffee and to add "hair stuff" to my shopping list. Moments later, the afore-mentioned tween waltzed into the kitchen for her breakfast. She had on a well coordinated outfit and her hair was sleeked back most becomingly. I openly admired her good taste.

"Girly-Girl, you look lovely this morning - so put together. How'd you do your hair? I really like it!"

She beamed under my praise and spun back-to so I could see her creative do. A creative do that involved 2 of MY HAIR SCRUNCHIES!

"Hey!" my voice rose with the excitement of discovery, "Aren't those MY scrunchies?"

"Yep. I like 'em."

"You may like them, but they're MINE. MY scrunchies! You shouldn't use MY scrunchies without asking MY permission!"

She gazed up me with wide brown eyes, "I didn't think you'd mind. They match my outfit."

"Yes, b-b-but they're MINE!"

Mulletman looked up from his oatmeal, "Honey, perhaps you could buy some more so there'd be enough for all of you."

I. went. ballistsic.

You see, Mulletman is a wonderful father and husband and all 'round decent (though occasionally high maintenance) human being, but he's still a Man. A man who has no concept of hair accessory security issues.

He has NO idea what I've been going through ever since our darling daughters got old enough to realize that their dolls had hair. I would buy the girls lovely decorations for THEIR hair. Then I'd go to do their hair "all pretty" and couldn't find matching elastics or barrettes or ribbons. Why? Because the majority of my carefully selected hair supplies had been covertly diverted to Tolly dolls, and Barbies, and Beanie Babies. Even Aslan the Lion had a hair bow.



I'd stomp around in a snit ranting a lecture about the misappropriation of hair embellishments whilst I undecorated the stuffed animals. And if the girls dared to giggle at me (which they did, the shameless thieves!) I silenced them with the angry-mother-eye-of-death.

At least temporarily.

For a week or so all would be well, but then I'd notice a rogue yellow hair elastic in the basement play area, or a pink hair clip near the foot of the bed. Next thing you know, Aslan had corn rows. It was ridiculous!

Finally, we came to something of an agreement. Certain of their hair things were deligated for play and others were to be kept in the drawer for their own heads. It worked/works for the most part. Though there have been periodic appearances of the "good" hair items on a doll's head that require a council meeting to reiterate the boundaries of hair implement usage.

But now things were taking an ugly turn. We were no longer talking about cute little girl hair accoutrements; We're talking about MY stuff.

Is there a way to lock my hair-stuff drawer? Maybe I should dust it with fingerprint powder so I know which child is guilty. Should I search the girls' room on a weekly basis? Maybe those little ladies should just save up their pennies and buy their OWN hair decorations!

Mulletman thinks I'm overreacting. He thinks I should chill out and share. He doesn't understand. A woman's got to protect what is her own!

That's it! I'm going to change into some nicer clothes and head for the store. I'm going to get a nice stash of hair goodies and then keep them hidden in the waaaaaaaaaaaay top of my closet in a mysterious shoe box.

Wait a minute...Where's my favorite funky red shirt?

GIRLY-GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!