Said in my best William Wallace voice "FREEDOM!!"

Have I ever told you that my mom is super woman?  If I haven't, let this convince you.  She has taken my kids for 16 days.  They flew into Denver where she drove for 10 hours to meet them with my two adorable nieces, Laney and Chloe, ages ten and eight.  They stayed and played on my Aunt's ranch for a couple days romping in creeks, swinging in trees and riding horses before driving back, now with five kids in the car for a twelve hour road trip with nothing but the radio to distract them.  Tired yet?  She will now keep these five children, sometimes all eight when she has the little nephews too, entertained and happy.  She has all kinds of activities planned including a water park, fishing and the zoo.  My dad will only be available to help when he is home for a few days.  Her cape is purple and her crown is gold and her face never stops shining for how happy her grand kids make her.  She is happiest when being called Mamaw. 

So hubby and I find ourselves kid less for 15 days {not counting the day they come back}. 

Oh the dastardly plans we are hatching. 

Or maybe not so much dastardly as much as just a lot of dates.  And I do mean a lot. 

Hubby had the brilliant idea that we should literally have a date every day they are gone. 

Even on days when I work and I'm tired and cranky he drags me out and we run wild and free and play until the wee hours of the morning. 

Soon I'll post some pics of our fun times.  Because without physical evidence I could just be making it all up and according to my good friend Marci "If you didn't take a picture it didn't happen".  Good advice Marci, good advice.  Although she mainly is speaking of crafting, it could really apply to anything. 

Like the time I saw the guy riding his bike carrying a sewing machine and a vacuum cleaner.  You really just have to take my word for it at this point.

It's all in how you market it

My hair has been feeling less super model-y, wind blown, back lit by the sun, dolphins jumping over a rainbow lately and a little more dried leaf sitting in the burning desert, oh crap, that kid just stepped on it and crushed it into a thousand pieces. 

And because I get exactly zero on the scale of caring what my hair looks like from hubby, I was getting no where in the casually flipping my locks over my shoulder while batting my eyelashes in hopes of looking coy while also drumming up a random compliment on the hair department.  What the heck.  Oops, did my hair fling get in your eye?  So sorry.  I just can't contain all this raw, flowing mass. 

If only.

So I decided to give my hair a little help and went looking for some hot oil.  If only I weren't so mean to my hair.  Always with the flat iron and the curling iron and blow dryer and the hair spray. 

What I found instead was placenta.

Right there smack dab in the middle of the Target beauty isle is a line a products that a person, such as myself, can buy to put on the head/hair to make the hair shiny and glow-y and soft and pretty and who knew that the missing ingredient all this time was simply placenta.  Animal placenta.  Because we wouldn't want human placenta on our hair.  We're not savages. 

And of course I bought some. 

I'm not stupid.

I want good hair.

The box says I will have hair as good as it was born to be. 

Did I half expect it to come out all slimy and slightly red colored and or gooey?  Perhaps. 

That would have made for a better post.  But it didn't.  Which is slightly disappointing.  How do I in fact know that I received placenta?  I have given birth three times and three times I have witnessed placenta being examined by my obstetrician or otherwise known as the "down there doctor" and what I put on my head looked nothing like what sustained my children for nine long months. 

So I must assume that they blended it up and mixed it with delicious smells and what I can only describe as close to glitter, to make it more appealing.  Whatever. 

The end result was fabulous.  I don't know that I would boast it being as good as the day I was born, I would have to enlist the opinion of my mother on that count, but I do agree that my hair looks and feels amazing and I would recommend placenta for the head of all my friends.  In fact.  Lets just start keeping them and instead of eating them we could just grind them up and make shampoo.  We could call it ShamCenta or CentaPoo.  Who's got a bun the oven, I need my first volunteer!

We'll all be shiny hair queens and our hubby's won't be able to take their eyes off of us.

That is until they realize what we've been showering with.  On second thought, maybe we should rethink the name.

Boys are all about the bodily functions but you mention one little placenta and they run for the hills. 

Pansies.

{Aliya}

My sweet friend {Marci Judkins} did a photo shoot with Aliya for her thirteenth birthday.

Needless to say they turned out fabulous.  

My daughter takes my breath away.

I told her she could show these to the boy she likes.

I might change my mind about that.

Yes they still have those. Somewhere.

Her excitement was unmistakable as she pulled my arm to hurry and follow to see what she had discovered.  And I was trying to hurry but my feet were sticking to the floor of the cramped gas station rest room.  I tried not to think too hard about what it was they were sticking to as I finished washing my hands while looking at my day old running mascara in the blurry mirror. 

It must be pretty amazing for her to be this excited.  As I rounded the corner I saw it.  The thing was enormous.  "Mom!  It's an actual pay phone!  I've never seen one in real life before!" 

Her list was getting better by the mile.  First an actual tumbleweed, then a lillypad, now a pay phone?  Could this road trip get any better?  When her Uncle Matt would later produce a real life handkerchief it would prove to be the best, most productive family vacation of Aliya's young life. She had only heard of these things but never actually seen them with her own eyes. 

Her brothers, while impressed, were less enthused.  After all, we have mini computers in our pockets. 

I thought I was being sweet by regaling the check out clerk with the funny story of how my kids were amazed at seeing a pay phone for the first time.  It never occurred to me that it might come across as condescending until hubby pointed it out. 

Hubby:  Somehow I don't think the small town people like it pointed out to them from the city people that they are in fact....small town.

Me: What?  What do you mean?

Hubby:  The pay phone.  It's not there for our amusement.  They actually use it. 

Me:  But...well....I just...it never occurred to me that I might hurt her feelings....

Hubby:  {using his best hill billy voice} whoohy I tell you what!  This dang here computation device is too complicated fer me!  {holding his cell phone}  Does it communicate directly with the satellites?? 

Lesson learned hubby, lesson learned. 

First fifteen

Once, when hubby and I were dating and his name was still Jason, we were out with some friends.  Ninety's grunge was in full effect and we were both rockin' the flannel and doc martins.  Our kids think we were crazy for committing these fashion crimes when in reality we were awesome.  Pure awesome. 

While driving back to our dorms in Denver we were following a car and witnessed it hit and run another car. We were appalled and simply could not have this.  So we followed them.  A more accurate description would be that we ran them down, chased them through traffic at high speeds putting not only ourselves but others in peril until at last we were able to write down their licence plate number.

Proudly we found our way back to the accident scene and found a police officer to give the number to.  He looked us up and down and then reached down to pick up the entire front bumper of the car off the ground and said "You mean this license plate number?"

I have been chasing down cars and finding peril ever since with this man and today we celebrate fifteen years.

A whole decade and a half.

And I can't wait to see what the next fifteen bring!

{Thirteen Years}

Thirteen years ago my life was profoundly changed.

As a slippery, bald screaming baby girl was thrust into my waiting hands I had no idea just how immensely my world would change.  How much this tiny creature could alter how I view just about everything from now on.  Most of all my relationship with Jesus.  

He loves me this much?  More?  How is that even possible?

And for the first time I finally understood what it meant to be willing to die for someone. 

This {little} girl never ceases to amaze me.  

She is vivacious, hysterical, witty, generous, kind beyond words, unbearably sweet, glowing with inner and outer beauty and wholly and fully in love with her King Jesus.

I'm overcome with emotion that God has blessed me with the joy of getting to be her momma while I'm here.

Happy Birthday to the most amazing thirteen year old I know.  

You rock in every way!