In the middle

Dear Catie,

My charming, challenging middle child. Oh, how you exhaust me! Mentally, physically, emotionally. I sometimes fear I will never be able to keep up with you.

People say that the middle child is the peacemaker and I throw my head back and laugh. They’ve surely never met you. You posses so many wonderful qualities, but making peace is not one of them. You are the spitfire of our family, stubborn and argumentative, contentious and unyielding.

It is utterly fascinating to me that you are the exact opposite of this when you walk out our doors. At school teachers were concerned that you would never stick up for yourself. I sat through many conferences hearing about my meek, shy, easily bullied child and wondered how in the world that was possible. You certainly stand your ground at home! The teachers, in turn, were surprised to hear that you could ever be an ounce of trouble, as your behavior for them was nothing short of role-model and praise worthy.

I just shook my head in amazement.

All of these qualities – this strong-willed, strong-tempered, frustrating independence you have -

(I can still hear your tiny toddler voice declaring angrily ‘I do it my own self!’)

all of these things I find maddening about you, and also they give me peace. If, by the grace and miraculous nature of God I can manage to put you on the right path, I know you won’t stray from it. You are an absolute force of nature when you want to be – we just need to channel that determination to something worthwhile, like saving the world, instead of your current frivolity like creating your own elaborate hairstyles. Because truly, I have never seen anyone work harder when they set their mind on something like you do, Catiebug. Just stop wasting it on girl stuff.

I wish I could convince you of your muchness. Of how smart and funny and generous and beautiful you are…when you want to be. (Oh, the Jekyll and Hyde of your adolescence!)

Of how worthy and worthwhile you are, no matter what anyone else thinks or says or does. I wish I could convince you to love yourself for all that you are, and to stop worrying about what you are not. I wish you would stop comparing yourself to the other little girls of this world, and measure yourself against the only One who matters. I assure you, He thinks you are even more incredible than I do, and that’s really saying something.

Yes Catie, there will be mean girls in your life. You’ve already encountered a few, and unfortunately you will encounter many, many more. Even as a grown up. Mean people suck. Feel bad for them, pray for them, but don’t dwell on them. Don’t let stupid people take up space in your head. It’s valuable real estate you have there, my dear – don’t waste it. There is something wrong with them, honey. Them, not you. Don’t you ever let a small, petty person affect your sense of self worth. Your value is determined in Him, and not in any of them…no matter how popular or pretty or important they think they may be. I promise you baby girl, that even though it seems impossible to believe right now, one day those girls and those problems will be just a memory. There is a danger in peaking too early, and the girls that are fabulous in high school can only go downhill from there.

You, sweet Catie, were made for something far greater. I don’t even know what that is just yet, but I know it is More. It’s Bigger and Better and More than anything that you or I could ever conceive of right now. And all of these problems, they’re temporary. One day you will remember them and roll your eyes instead of cry.

One day you will know that you are More. And I pray that day comes soon.

On school and illness…and gratitude

The last time I posted was a normal day. The day after? Notsomuch. They day after began a whirlwind of doctors, hospitals, tests, medicines, therapies, and half-tank fill-ups, since I refuse to let my gauge get below half a tank, since even half costs me $40ish dollars and I know I’d cry if I saw the bll for a complete fill-up.

Sidebar – who doesn’t love a good run-on sentence?

So for the past few weeks, it’s been hectic. Stressful. I’ve spent a lot of time on my knees, praying for my sweet daughter. And I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I could carry her burdens myself. I’m experienced.

When I was an adolescent, I was sick. Very, very sick. In fact, between 7th & 11th grades, I missed more of each school year than I attended. You name the symptom, I had it. Hospitals were my second home. I learned how to reset my own IV alarm, since it went off so frequently. I knew exactly how many steps it was from the front door to the ER bed. And I knew that one day, I would die of this mysterious illness that no one could diagnose.

I believed this wholeheartedly, and I even wrote a will. You know, for all of my 15 year old possessions. In truth the will was more confessional, telling the secrets that seemed too big to reveal in the real life of a teenager. It was all very tragic and Molly Ringwald would most definitely have played me in the movie. This gave me an odd satisfaction.

At the time I felt bad for what I was putting my parents through. Not that I could help it exactly, but still, I’m a person with guilt. I hated that I cost them so much money. I hated that I messed up their work schedules. I hated that they worried so much about me.

After tens of thousands of dollars spent, countless specialists visited, and more invasive testing that anyone should ever have to go through, there was still no answer. Doctors began telling my parents to take me to therapy because I must be crazy. Which certainly is true, but thankfully my parents believed in me enough to know that my insanity wasn’t of the hypochondriac variety. And then one day, literally almost overnight, my problems vanished. I was healthy again. Whole again. Normal for the first time in 5 years.

We moved.

We still have no definitive answer for what caused my problems. My parents didn’t move to cure me – we had no idea that was even possible – it was just a blessed coincidence. We moved to a new state and realized that my problem must have been an environmental allergy. The school building that I was in was making me sick, quite literally. I was never ill before or after I left that building, and I wasn’t the only one affected.

At the time, though, my principal was, um, less than understanding. That’s the kindest way to phrase it. At one point he told my mom that if I didn’t return to school for the half day before Christmas break, I would have to repeat my sophomore year. It was an in-school dance, and I spent the entire time laying down on the bleachers with a 105 degree fever. I was taken to the hospital via ambulance later that day, and admitted for 1 week.

You might think an apology was in order, and certainly you would be right, but none came. Because he was, as my sister once put it, ‘a gigantic waste of flesh’. And I know it’s very petty of me, but even now (with high school just a couple of decades years behind me), I feel angry with him when I remember this. I’d like to smack him for his jerkish insensitivity. And I’d like to have screamed when he sent me a friend request on Facebook. Decline!

Why am I telling you all of this? Because over the past couple of weeks, I have experienced exactly the opposite of Mr. Buttface. [Sorry for the language, mom] My daughter’s teachers and principals have shown us an outpouring of love that makes me all the more grateful to be right where we are. To be in a school that nurtures my child both academically and emotionally. That meets her mental and her physical needs. And one that is ready and willing and even happy to help us.

Catie collapsed at school, and the phone call I got said that she’d either fainted or had a seizure. When I went to collect her, Lilly in tow, I found that the principal had carried her down the long hallway to the nurse (and Catie is solid so this is no easy task). She sat with her and held her as the nurse examined her. And she waited by her side until I got to the school. She walked us out to our car. She even offered to keep Lilly at the school while I took Catie to the hospital. Think about that for a minute. Over 700 students in her charge, and she was willing to take on one more, just to be kind. Just to help her student who needed it. Just to make an awful day for us a little bit easier.

Above and beyond. It’s like our school motto. Every teacher, every assistant, every secretary, every janitor. Above and beyond. And I am so very thankful for each and every one of them.

I know firsthand what it is like to be in the opposite situation, which makes this experience even sweeter.

I still don’t have an answer for what is causing Catie’s problems, and there are many more tests to come. I’m still not comfortable letting her out of my sight, since I continue to get phone calls. But I am very, very thankful to know that if she can’t be with me, she is definitely in the next best place.  She has a large family of people who love her, and it includes the staff at Bardstown Primary.

Thank God for that.

Easily Amused

I’m busy-busy-busy, but lest you think I’ve forgotten you forever, I wanted to share a few things that made me chuckle this week.

We’ve had 4 snow days already this season so I’ve been enjoying more time than usual with my school aged daughters. I love to listen in on their conversations with each other. There are definitely ugly, fighting moments, but thankfully those are few and far between.  I mostly hear loving exchanges – compliments shared, secrets whispered. The kind of sister memories I’ve always wanted my girls to have.

And then there are the funnies. Funnier still because they don’t intend to be funny at all.  A few recent examples:

Annie: That is the Hispanic Barbie.

Catie: What’s ‘Hispanic’?

Annie: It’s fancy for Mexican.

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In the car, Lilly talking incessantly over the Christmas CD

Catie: Shush!

Lilly: Hey! I’m trying to talk!

Catie: Well I want to hear the music.

Lilly: That’s rude!

Catie: Christmas is about the birth of baby Jesus so shut your mouth and celebrate Him!

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I’ve tried to explain the concept of personal space to the girls using a hula hoop as a visual. ‘Imagine everyone is wearing an invisible hula hoop, so you can’t get closer to them than the hoop would allow.’ (Genius right?)

Lilly: You’re in my bubble.

Catie: I was trying to give you a hug!

Lilly: Then hurry up and give me a hug and put your hula hoop back on!

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Annie, singing It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

“Peace on the Earth and good will toward man, from heaven’s outrageous King…”

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Catie takes a turn playing teacher

Catie: Who was born on Christmas?

Lilly: Baby Jesus

Catie: And why did baby Jesus come to earth?

Lilly: To save us from Satan’s power when we were going to play.

{God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – ‘to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray’}

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Lilly only ever refers to Jesus as baby Jesus. I think she must be the offspring of Ricky Bobby.

“Baby Jesus loves us”

“Baby Jesus died on the cross”

I’m just waiting for her to pray ‘Dear 8 pound 6 ounce baby Jesus in a manger…’

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I didn’t laugh nearly as much before they came along.

I love these little people.

They complete me.

{We eschew the natural smile in this family. Clearly.}

The Dynamic Duo

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!

~Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

A conversation with Catie

We live less than 3 miles from Catie’s preschool.  2.63, to be exact.  And the sheer number of words that she can squeeze in during that 5-minute ride never cease to amaze me.  How do her vocal chords keep up with her mouth?  How does her mouth keep up with her brain?  And where does her brain come up with this stuff?

What follows is an actual conversation with my almost-five-year-old.  I recorded it for posterity.

Catie: Turn on the radio.

Me: I will Catie, just a minute.

Catie: Can you turn on Leaving on a Jet Plane, I don’t know when I’ll be back again?  I like that song.  I know all the words.  Want me to sing it to you?  I’m leeeavin, on a jet plane…

Me: I don’t have that CD with me.

Catie: Aw, mom! Why not?  I love that one.  Can you put in Power in the Blood?  Or Nothing but the Blood?  I like songs about blood.  Are there any other songs about blood?  Why do they sing songs about blood?  Isn’t that kind of yucky?

Me: Well no, honey, because those songs are about Jesus.  His blood is special.

Catie: I’m special too.  My teacher said that the Bible says all of us are special, but she didn’t know where it says that.  I think maybe she made that part up just to make us feel good.  But I bet God still loves us, even if we’re not all special.  It would be really hard to make all of those people and have every one different.  Do you think everyone is really different? 

Me: Yes I do.

Catie: Why?  Twins aren’t different.  They might look different, but they aren’t always different.  Luke and Addy are different because they are boy and girl, Luke is a boy and Addie is a girl.  But some twins are both girls and they look exactly the same and that is dental and then they are the same, and I guess probably boy twins can be dental too, but I don’t like that kind and I only like girl twins, because the boy twins that go to my school, I don’t know their names but they are boy twins, and they throw wood chips.  (pause)  That smells bad.  What smells bad?  What is that smell?  Do you smell something stinky?  I smell something stinky.  Lilly do you smell something?  Hey did you know that Seth’s dad goes hunting?

Me: No I didn’t.

Catie: Has dad ever gone hunting?

Me: [snort] Not hardly.

Catie: Have you ever gone hunting?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Did you go with Pappap?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Will you take me hunting some day?

Me: We’ll see.

Catie: I’d like to go hunting.  I don’t think I want to shoot a gun yet.  Maybe I can just watch.  When I’m bigger I will shoot a gun.  Do we have any guns?  I like guns.  Not for shooting people, just stuff.  Like cans and animals and stuff.  That guy on tv shot a can.  Plus you shoot cans in that game at the fair.  I want to hunt when I’m a grown up.  I’m going to hunt cows, because I like steak.  Have you ever hunted for cows?

Me: Well, no.  You don’t really hunt cows, honey.

Catie: Why not?  Cows are easier to hunt than deer.  Seth’s dad goes hunting for deer but I don’t know why.  Deer run from people so they’d be hard to hunt.  Cows just stand there.  Plus they taste good.  And farmers could just go hunting whenever they want.

Me: I think you’re missing the point of hunting, Catie.

Catie: Isn’t the point to shoot something so you can eat it?

Me: Well yes, but…

Catie: (interrupting) Can we go to the zoo for my birthday?

Me: Why? Do you want to go hunting at the zoo?

Catie: No. (pause) Can you do that?

Me: No.

Catie: Why not?

Me: Because zoos try to keep animals alive.  I don’t think they’d like it if you came in shooting them.

Catie: But you can’t eat if the animals are alive.  They have to die sometime.  What are we going to have for lunch?

Me: I don’t know yet.

Catie: Can we have soup, and can we eat it at Grama’s house?

Me: You can’t just invite yourself over to someone’s house, Catie.

Catie: I can if it’s Grama.  Do you love your mommy?  She is the best Grama ever.  When we were over there yesterday she gave me tea and I got to put my own sugar in, and she let me put in as much as I want.  And she gave me a treat, and she didn’t even yell when I stepped on her foot.  I think she loves me.  So I want to go to her house for lunch and I want you to tell her that, because I know it will be ok.  Ok?

Me: We’ll see, Catie.

Catie: Call her and tell her I said that.  And tell her about the hunting.  And also, can we have steak for dinner?  Except Annie would like crab legs I think, because she doesn’t like steak.  Can we have steak and crab legs?

Me: No.

Catie: You always say no.  Grama never says no.

Me: She did when she was my mom.  And she didn’t give me steak and crab legs for dinner, either.

Catie: When you pick me up, can you bring Grama with you?  And can you come in and see my teacher today?  And I want you to read me a book when I get home ok?  We’re painting today.  I’m going to paint with Anna Jean, because she helps me and because we don’t like to sit next to Teresa because she says bad words.  Also she sticks her tongue out at me, whichly is not nice, and also one time Seth said butthead.  And he threw his apple in the wrong place and I saw him and I knew he was wrong but I didn’t tell Miss April because you said not to be a tattle-tale, but I watched him and I knowed it was him that did it and he was being naughty.  He didn’t do what Miss April said.  I think his mom needs to teach him better manners.  Maybe he needs his bottom spanked so he wouldn’t say butthead anymore.  He isn’t very nice but I still like him because I have to because Jesus said we have to like everyone, but if I didn’t have to because Jesus said to, if Jesus didn’t make me, I wouldn’t like him and I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who said bad words like butthead.  Except I have to on account of Jesus.  But that’s all.  That’s the only reason.  Did Jesus really say that we have to like everyone?

Me: You have to love everyone, but you won’t always like everyone.  It’s complicated.

Catie: What does complicated mean?

Me: Hard to understand.

Catie: Oh.  So do I have to like Seth or not?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Then I’m going to tell him that he better be glad for Jesus, because if there wasn’t Jesus no one would ever like a meanie like him.

Me: Don’t you dare say that to him.

Catie: Ok.  But I’m still gonna think it.

Me: Caitlin Boyd!

Catie: Mommy mom!

Me: Child, you wear me out.  Please do not say anything like that to him.  It’s not nice.

Catie: I told you I wouldn’t.  But don’t you ever think things in your head that aren’t nice?

Me: Yes. But a good person tries to stop thinking bad things, and think about things that would make Jesus happy.  I don’t think it would make Jesus very happy to hear you telling Seth that no one likes him.

Catie: That isn’t what I said at all.  I said no one would like him if Jesus didn’t tell us we have to, which means we do like him, so I don’t think that’s the same at all and I think it’s ok, but I won’t say it.

Me: Catie! <sigh> Have a good day. And stay out of trouble, ok?

Catie: -ignores me because she’s already started talking to the carpool lady-

Me: -drops head to steering wheel in exhaustion-

A conversation with Catie.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Happy Birthday Bugga Bugga!

When Catie was born Annie immediately started calling her ‘Little Bug’ or some variation of that.  We’ve never known why exactly, but it does seem to suit her and so it stuck.  Especially fitting, then, that this year she chose a ladybug theme for her party.  We got these super cute custom invitations made for her party, and I made the girls all themed outfits.  (A tradition I started several years ago.  Now the girls base their party theme off of what cool fabric Mommy has available!)

Because she’s not in school yet, this was just a family party.  And because most of my family lives elsewhere, this was primarily my husband’s relatives!  But thankfully my parents live just around the corner (I’d be lost without them!) and they were with us as well.  We took a picnic lunch to the zoo and had a very nice afternoon…until it POURED rain!

A few pics:

Ladybug cupcakes

Annie saved her allowance, worked for extra money, sold some of her toys, and had a lemonade stand to earn money to buy her sister an American Girl doll.  I was so proud of her!  Not only is it very generous of her (in case you don’t know, this is $114 of doll here.  And Annie is 6.) but this is the second time that she has done it.  Last year Annie bought Catie her first American Girl doll, Kit, and this year she bought her Elizabeth.  Needless to say, Catie was thrilled.

Showing off her new doll

better view of the doll

 Here’s a pic of the whole family.  My parents are the two who were smart enough to wear sun hats.  I, on the other hand, got totally baked (in the sun).  You can see a bit of me in the back center, hair in my face from running to set the timer!

the whole gang

 Not the best picture of the children or their outfits, but you get the idea.  I can’t ever get a good picture of Lilly; she refuses to look at the camera.  She poses beautifully, then says ‘CHEESE!’ and looks at the ground.  Go figure.

my glamour girls

Another of Catie’s favorite presents was this dress up outfit that my parents gave her.  For the less High School Musical savvy of my readers, this is Sharpay.  Isn’t she fab? 

Bop to the Top!

So happy birthday my sweet little bug.  Thank you for the adventure and va-va-voom that you bring to every day.  I love your sense of humor, your fashionista tendencies, your spunk, and even your ornery rottenness.  I know you will grow up to be an amazing, interesting person.  In fact, you already are. 

xoxo

Catie and her Balay – aka my Label Daddy/BlogHer ’09 Sponsorship Entry

Nothing like waiting until the very last minute, right? These are due tomorrow, and I promise it wasn’t my intention to wait so long. In fact, I had been working on something for quite a while now, but it didn’t feel quite right. I mean, their scholarship offering is so amazingly generous, my entry needs to be pretty amazing too, right? But it felt so ordinary, and I was struggling. But that all changed this past weekend my friends, and now I have The Best Story to share with you.
I have to admit that when I first read about the contest I wasn’t sure I even owned anything from Label Daddy, so I mentally disqualified myself. Then several days later, when mentioning it to a friend, she laughed and said, ‘Well…I have something for you!’ Turns out she had bought me some labels for an upcoming gift swap, so she gave them to me early. Score! So now I’m back in the game, and waiting for inspiration to strike.

First, I thought of all the things I like about them. I have the clothing labels, and I was immediately impressed that they actually do work. Sounds like a given, I know. But I am a seamstress and I am quite familiar with all the different styles and varieties of tags out there, and many (most) of the sticky labels do not stay stuck for long. Take my word on this. So the Label Daddy labels stick (and wash) well, they are bright and cute and fun and functional. All true, but not exactly a groundbreaking or revolutionary entry for me to write. I was stumped. Until a few short days ago, when we quite unintentionally had a huge, wonderful, lifesaving (in the mind of a 3-year-old, at least) encounter with our Label Daddy labels. So here it is:

My middle daughter, Catie, was born with a hole in her heart. Lest you think this is a sob story, let me assure you that as heart defects go, hers is fairly minor. It has thus far been non-surgical which is an answer to prayer, and Catie leads a very normal 3-year-old life. However, because of her condition she requires a lot of monitoring, and her illnesses are more frequent and harder on her little body than they are for other kids. One way we try to keep her healthy is to keep her away from stuffed animals and things that can’t be easily washed, which as a baby meant that traditional loveys were out. No teddy bear for Catiebug. Instead, we encouraged the use of blankets, and her favorite quickly became one that my sister had made for her.

In that sweet toddler way, she gave it the moniker of ‘balay’, and balay went everywhere with her. Everywhere. Moms, I’m sure you know what I mean. She sleeps with balay, sure. In fact, my favorite picture of the girls together is this one of Annie and Catie, holding hands and snoozing away:

But their love affair goes way beyond nap time. When she had a diaper change, balay was in her hand. When she learned to use the potty, balay was laying on the floor nearby. Balay is on her lap when she eats, reads a book, rides in the car, flies high on the swings. Balay was there when Catie learned to ride a bike, when Annie lost her first tooth, when Lilly was born. Loving sister that she is, Catie even (very briefly) loaned balay to newborn baby Lilly, trying to teach her how it’s done. Lilly was delighted.

When balay needs a bath, Catie dutifully sits beside the washing machine and waits for him to be done. Balay is a girl she tells us, but she also refers to balay as ‘him,’ so maybe balay is confused. Either way, he is a member of the family. We never leave the house without him, and he gets buckled into the car seat right along with her. When Catie is tired or sick, you’ll find her laying down, with the corner of balay clutched tight in one hand, and the thumb of the other hand planted firmly in her little mouth.

Quite honestly, I have very few memories of Catie that do not include balay. When I began writing this I knew I wanted visuals, and far more challenging than finding accompanying pictures was narrowing down the vast field of possibilities. I have literally hundreds of pictures of Catie and her best friend.

The real secret to balay’s magic lies in the corners, where he is especially soft and comforting. Whatever ails you, a gentle rub of balay’s corner is sure to sooth it. Catie holds him so that the corner pokes out of her chubby little hand, and she gently traces her face with his soft, furry goodness. Across the forehead, under the chin, along her cheek, over her eyelids. You can almost see the pleasure on her face as she does this; the cares of her world just melt away.

As you might imagine, the fabulousness that is balay hasn’t always worn very well. I knew that this would happen and I tried desperately to find the same fabric so I could make another, but no such luck. At first I thought maybe she needed the brown color, so I tried making another with something similar, but that was rejected as well. The corners weren’t quite right. We went through many incarnations of balay, many experiments, in order to find just the right combination. Few of them have survived the years, and even the few that remain are rather ragged:

We are fortunate in that Catie is willing to accept more than just her ‘original’ balay – provided it meets her discriminating corner standards. This has made vacations much easier! In balay’s early days he was full sized, and had to be tied in a big knot so he didn’t drag the ground. Later I made her small ‘travel balays,’ which is what she now carries everywhere.

She had four of them initially, but one by one they have vanished as well. Big Thunder Mountain Railroad in Disney World can lay claim to one of them. The Bourbon Festival in Bardstown, KY is where the second wandered off. The third was left in a shopping cart, and the cart boy threw it away. The store was very nice, and even offered to go through the garbage, but I declined since we still had a balay at home, and I now knew Catie would accept a substitute. Or so I thought.

Turns out Catie is quite attached to these balays, and now knows the difference, and no, another one will not do. Uh-oh. We knew this was trouble, which is why my dear friend was thoughtful enough to give us the Label Daddy labels. Quite honestly I almost didn’t use them, since my friend had mis-spelled Catie’s name, but at that point we were too desperate to be discriminating. Our one-balay situation was precarious, and that balay needed to be marked as Catie’s! So we found just the right place to tag him (so that the label wouldn’t throw off that famed corner magic), and all was well. For about a week. I never realized that a quick trip to the Goodwill store could go so terribly wrong, but on Saturday it did.

My girls love to shop at Goodwill. The stuff is cheap, our store is nice and new and clean, and you never know what you will find there – a kiddie jackpot. So I caved to the chorus of ‘pleeeease’s that I was hearing from the back of the minivan, and we ran in for a quick stop. Which is where balay got left, of course. Can you imagine a worse place to leave something?

Catie was inconsolable over his loss, and I was filled with dread as I went back to the store to look. I searched and searched, tearing the store apart, and came up empty handed. The employees were so nice and helped me look, and since there were only 3 other customers in there at the time, they helped look too. Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t bear to go home and tell Catie that her beloved balay was gone. My heart hurt. I thanked them, and went out to the car where I locked the doors and laid my head down and cried. Possibly bawled. Her heart would be broken. I finally managed to collect myself and was just getting ready to back out of the parking space when a lady came flying out the door waving wildly.

Balay, it seems, was tucked in with the laundry. He had been left in a spot where the cleaning lady had been, and they thought he was one of her dust rags. And he very well may have become one, had it not been for that beautiful Label Daddy brand on him, proudly proclaiming that he belongs to my little girl. The stars were aligned for us that day, and the woman who does the laundry noticed the name tag as she was sorting. She said later that it seemed a shame that someone donated a child’s blanket.

The cashier who had helped me search for balay took a break after I left, and she sat in the back room eating her lunch and telling the lady doing laundry about the woman looking for her little girl’s lovey. She said that she couldn’t stop thinking about how disappointed my daughter would be, and she felt just awful. Her comment then was that, ‘A little scrap of polka dot material is like gold to that poor kid, and whoever took it from here will never know the damage they did. Poor Catie.’ Polka dots? Catie? That rang a bell with the blessed laundry lady, who promptly pulled it out of a waiting pile and asked, ‘Is this the one?’ And the rest, as they say, is history.

At the sight of balay I cried again, and hugged them, and cried some more…and sped home to my Catiebug. She had been hysterical, and at the sight of her beloved balay she burst into tears. Happy tears! It was one of the most beautiful reunions I have ever witnessed in my life, and a parenting moment I will never forget. And it was all made possible by Label Daddy. Talk about a loyal customer – we’re their biggest fans now! And I will definitely be ordering more labels.

So thank you, Label Daddy. Thank you for this sponsorship opportunity, for your great product that works like its advertised, and for making my daughter’s world a joyful place once again. You’ll never know how grateful we are.

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This is my official entry into the Label Daddy BlogHer ’09 Sponsorship contest. Thank you to Label Daddy for this very generous scholarship opportunity!

They just keep growing up!

One week ago today, my beautiful Catiebug had her first haircut. She is three and a half.

Her hair is gorgeous, long and curly in the type of perfect ringlets rarely seen outside of Shirley Temple movies. Unfortunately, in order to maintain those perfect ringlets it also needs a LOT of maintenance, which neither of us have been enjoying. She decided last Sunday night that she would like to get her hair cut and donate to Locks of Love. She’s said this in the past and I’ve always balked at the idea.

This is a great cause, and I get my own hair cut to donate every 12-15 months. I was very sick for a large part of my life, and I’m very grateful to be healthy now. Giving up some hair seems like the least I can do.

My reluctance comes from the fact that Annie got her hair cut to donate last year (see picture in the slide show) and it was a bit painful for me. She looked so much older after that, and no momma likes to see her baby grow up. On the flip side, generosity and compassion are exactly the character traits I want to foster in my girls, so of course I can’t say no. Annie is anxiously awaiting her hair to grow long enough to donate again (only 2 inches to go!), and Catie felt it was her time as well.

So here she is, just moments before the big event (yes, she dressed herself. She always makes interesting fashion choices. She gets that from her mom – I did the same as a child.)

Getting her hair shampooed was the clear highlight of the experience for Catie. She had this look of absolute pleasure the entire time, broken only by the occasional sighs and “mmmmm, that feels so good”s:

The first cut!

Pardon my lousy picture, I was fighting the mirror and the sun glaring through the window, plus trying to angle so that I wasn’t accidentally in the picture. This is the first glimpse she got of her new ‘do:

And here’s my girl, showing off her donation. 16 inches of beautiful curls were snipped off that day, and a very lucky little girl will be sporting that hair in a wig one day soon. I’m so proud of Catie…for many reasons. But back to the hair – I think the new cut suits her. She does look older, there’s no denying that, but she’s still cute as a button:

It’s only just hair until you don’t have any, and then it means a whole lot more. Again, if you’ve never done it before, I urge you to consider donating to Locks of Love. 10 inches of ponytail or braid is the minimum requirement, and it’s a little gesture that will mean a lot to a sick child.

Random thoughts

I am too busy to blog, but because I hate to leave this little project completely unattended, I’ve made time to list out 5 completely random things that entered my mind today. Call it a meme and copy if you’d like – I’d love to hear your thoughts.

1) What’s with pants these days? Is it just me or do they all fall down? Trust me, I’m not buying them too big. I wish I could say that was my problem, but it isn’t. I have several pairs of properly sized pants – sweats, track pants, casual capris, jeans, the whole gamut – and they all slide down, and require that constant hiking up. Which is so tacky. I know. But what’s a girl to do?

2) I love privacy director. Caller id combined with privacy director has made our home completely free of unwanted calls, and I love that. Thank you Bellsouth.

3) Why does the puppy always take forever to find the proper spot to pee when it’s raining? Sunny and warm, she’s done in 10 seconds flat, but 40 degrees with a whipping rain and she has to sniff around for 10 minutes.

4) Catie is hysterical. I’m trying to teach the girls good table manners, and chewing with your mouth closed is at the top of my list. A certain spouse does not always do this, which drives the other spouse crazy. But I digress. Anyway, after watching Molly eat breakfast Catie turned to me and said, “Mommy, Molly doesn’t have good manners. Did Daddy teach her to chew?” ROFL From the mouths of babes.

5) I live in fear of head lice. We got a note sent home from school earlier this week that lice was detected in Annie’s classroom. For the second time this year. Now my head itches just thinking about it. From extensive googling I’ve learned that they attach more easily to clean hair, so the poor baby’s shampoos are few and far between now. They are also apparently repelled by vinegar, so I added white vinegar to the laundry. Unfortunately we may repel our friends and neighbors as well, since who wants to walk around smelling like vinegar? But if the alternative is to walk around with a head full of bugs, I’ll take the stink.

So what’s new with you?

A very Disney halloween

For the first time ever we used these really cute Disney jack-o-lantern patterns. They are cute, and surprisingly easy. Nest year I’ll buy a battery powered cutter rather than doing it all by hand though.

The last one was after trunk-or-treating. Yes, I know, I still haven’t posted pictures. Behind as usual!