For Her, I Can Be Beautiful

I have a gorgeous baby girl. Well, not so much a baby anymore, as she lets me know at every available opportunity. She’s a “big girl.” She can do everything “all my by herself.”

But she’s amazing. Cute, of course, but also beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Blue eyes that are not just a beautiful color, but also amazing for the thought behind them. Blond hair, turning darker, with the perfect bouncy waves. Perfect hands that already love coloring, petting animals, and climbing.

And in the last couple months especially, people keep saying she looks just like me.

I’ve never been one to set a huge store on physical appearance. I don’t say that to try to make myself sound superior; it’s just never been that important to me. I say that to emphasize that my appearance has never been a giant part of my self-identity. I consider myself not hideous, and that’s always been plenty for me.

But my angel is gorgeous. And if she looks like me… then I’m beautiful too.

And that comes to me, not as an ego boost (or not only that), but also as a responsibility. Because there’s a good chance that if she looks so much like me now, that she’ll keep looking just like me. And she’ll keep hearing about it. So if I have any insecurities about my physical appearance, well, I need to get over myself. For her. Because she’s beautiful, and she looks like me. So it’s time for me to know I’m beautiful too.

For her, I can be beautiful.


Things Kara Says

Kara: “There’s no nothing in something.”

Me: “Kara, you’re so sweet!”
Kara: “But I’m not for eating!”
Me: “No? But I’m gonna gobble you up!”
Kara: “But I’m too big to go in your mouth.”

Kara, pointing to a picture in a book: “What do this does?” (“does” pronounced “dews,” as in, “do” with an “s” added)

Whenever we watch a movie or read a story and someone doesn’t look happy, “What do he don’t like?” She asked that a LOT in Finding Nemo (or Catching Nemo, as she calls it).

Speaking of Finding Nemo, she spent most of the time in her bath last night singing, “Just keep swimming.”

Big Dreams

Yesterday, Kara helped me make granola bars. And ranch. And honey mustard. And bread. I started thinking about what I’ll do when Kara goes to school. Will I get a job and make some money, or will I stay home and keep saving money?

If I stayed home, I could do even more to save money. I could have a garden! The fact that I’ve never been able to keep green things alive is beside the point. I’ll put my vermicompost on my vegetable garden and have the biggest most awesome vegetables you’ve ever seen! I’ll be able to barter them at local farms for things like… I don’t know… milk? Wool? I can learn to spin my own yarn! etc. etc. etc.

Then I thought about what it would take to make my own mayonnaise. I’m already making so many dressings… why not make the condiment that’s the base for most of them? Eggs! That’s it, I’ll have a chicken coop, and the chickens will eat whatever scraps my worms don’t eat! And if you have chickens, you’ll probably need a dog…

And before you know it, I’ve built us a mini farm in my head.

Steve, meanwhile, is already planning on the awesome computer he’s going to build. And in his dreams, we have a garage, and he can build his dream desk that can convert from a standing desk to a sitting desk. He’ll also build a mini computer for the living room whose sole purpose will be for media, so we can still watch stuff from online and play our emulators in the living room.

Before I know it, he’s set up his own personal Tiger Direct in our garage.

How do we end up on such opposite sides of the spectrum?

The Bounce House

Yesterday, our local MOMs Club had an impromptu gathering at the “bounce house”—an indoor playground with inflatables. It’s been a while since we’ve been, so I asked Kara if she wanted to go. She said yes and did the typical toddler thing, which she doesn’t actually do often, of asking every 45 seconds if we were at the bounce house yet (it’s kind of a long drive).

After we got inside and paid and took off her shoes and coat and my shoes and backpack and coat and scarf, her anticipation levels were so high I thought she might actually explode. When I finally gave her the go-ahead to play, she ran as fast as I’ve ever seen her run, arms pumping, legs high, going so fast her head was actually leaning back from the rest of her body. She scrambled into the first inflatable and started jumping, laughing with her precious toddler belly-laugh, generally looking certifiably insane but in the happiest possible way.

She did almost everything “all my by herself,” even those things she’d previously been too small or scared to do, like the huge slide and some of the darker castles. We stayed for over two hours and she played harder than I’d have thought possible the whole time.

All in all, 2014 is off to a pretty great start.

What happy memories are you making?

He Gets It

Steve and I were sitting at the computer together, doing something really important like browsing Imgur or something. An ad in the sidebar caught our eye, something to the effect of “Three words guaranteed to turn her on.”

Steve snorted dismissively. “I already know that.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He started with, “Dishes are done.” “Dinner is ready.”

I’m sure there were a couple more, but the point is, ladies, he gets it.

Christmas Post

We all have those resolutions we always make and never keep. I have two: 1) I always resolve to write more and 2) I always resolve to get better at staying in touch with people. The two are semi-related, since “writing more” includes writing letters. Even blogging feels like staying in touch with others—sharing my stories and, thus, including you in my life. But I won’t actually make that resolution, because then I’ll spend the next week writing 2 blog posts and 4 letters a day, and then stop for the next month. Or year.

There’s much I’ve wanted to say, but I’ve forgotten a lot of it. So I’ll just talk about Christmas.

Christmas was fabulous on so many levels, but my favorite is that this is the first year that Kara could really get excited about it. She’s still confused about some things (for example, she got a book about the Christmas story and every time I called it that she’d say, “It’s not ’bout Christmas, it’s ’bout Jesus”) but she got the important things. We told her about going to Nashville to see the family, and she would periodically announce that she was going to see Ma-Maw, Grandma, Pa-Paw, “Sinney” (Sydney), etc. and “it will make me happy.”

DSCF1506Santa Claus brought her some presents before we took a trip to Nashville to see the family. One of those presents was her very own Grinch doll, which has become her new sidekick. She is currently pushing him around in her baby doll stroller, as a matter of fact. We had the very best time with the family—so much so, in fact, that Kara cried for about 20 minutes when we had to leave. Some of them may have been relieved to see us go, however. The first morning we were there, Kara walked up to her Uncle Brian and announced, “I’m not gonna kill you.” He’s probably breathing a little easier with us gone.

She must have missed home more than she realized, though, because she was very affectionate to everything and everyone when we got back. She kept announcing that she loved her animal (her Guinea pig, Iceberg), she kept coming to Steve and me for hugs and saying she loved us. Every toy she picked up was also beloved.

Materially, Christmas was also fabulous. I got a Kindle and have been doing such amazing things as checking out library books on it. Free reads, and I don’t even have to go through the trouble of getting in the car and going somewhere? Awesome. I also got a French press, tons of coffee, and a brain (that is, a daily planner).

Oh, and a I got bread machine. I made my first loaf of homemade bread yesterday. It was fabulous then—we ate half the loaf when it was fresh from the bread maker. Only time will tell if it will be a recurring thing, though. Sometimes I wonder how many of our staples I can keep making… then I remember I have those thoughts on days I do a minimal amount of housework and spend the other 8 or 9 hours of the day reading. So obviously I’m not too taxed.

Only time will tell.

Happy New Year, all!