Easter Escapade

We are not usually the dress-up-for-Easter type.  Jesus likes me just as much in my Joe's jeans, so that's standard Sunday attire.  This year, we went a little old school, though and got dressed up.  We even color-coordinated (this information will be important later).  Purple was the color of the day.  We had a great time at church and then went to lunch.

As is usually her custom, Brynna waited until everyone was settled in the booth with spoon in hand to announce (to the people 3 tables away) that she needed to go potty.  Feeling rather descriptive, she added a delightful, "Let's go poo-poo, Mommy.  Hurry."

Yes, by all means, Let's!  I was just thinking that as I forked my pasta.

We made our way to the ladies room as Brynna explained to passers-by, "I go poo-poo" as though they, too, needed that information to complete their Easter lunch experience.  Once in the stall, Brynna sat like a big girl and went potty.  It wasn't the quickest process but she was doing exactly what she's supposed to, so I patiently waited, trying not to dwell on the fact that my food was cooling more by the minute.  Then the show began.  Not without her necessary dramatic flair, Brynna started grunting.  She grunted so loudly and dramatically that the lady in the next stall began to snicker.  This made her laugh, so she too began to laugh.  But then the snickering from next door turned to all-out laughing as my lady-like little princess looks at me and loudly declares, "It's coming, Mommy!  Poo-poo's coming!  Here it comes.  Are you ready?"

No.  I'm really not.  

While I attempted to quiet her and hurry the process along, Brynna continued her theatrics.  At some point my feet fell asleep from squatting in 4 inch heels but honestly, that was the least of my concerns.  Finally, she announced that she was done and wanted to get down herself.  As she slid herself to the ground, I caught a glimpse of the bowl behind her.  Now, I don't make it a habit of studying these things, but I have never seen less in a toilet in all my life!

Seriously?!  All that showmanship for THIS?!  
More importantly: That can't possibly be everything which means I'm going to get back up at some point and return to this bathroom before I ever get to my fruit tart.  Can't wait.

As we made our way back to the table, a lady glanced over and smiled at me.  She looked at my purple dress and then Brynna's and said, "You two are adorable.  She's your spitting image!"

Lesson learned.  When you dress so similarly to someone who is already a miniature version of yourself, you can't deny that it was your child cheering on her poo when the need arises.


Sidebar - I realize I've broken my own rule of speaking publicly about bodily functions.  Such is life with a two-year-old. 

Are You Ready For Your Close Up?

We’ve all heard the quote even if we don’t know it was from the movie Sunset Boulevard circa 1950.  “All right, Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close up.”  I’ve thought often about this famous line but not for its context in the movie.  Rarely, when a close up photograph is taken is the subject not ready.  There’s preparation, make-up, lighting, hours of planning to prepare for that perfect shot.  But all that shows is a magnified picture of what someone wants you to see.  What about when the lighting is bad, his hair isn’t combed or her make-up isn’t fixed?  That’s a close up.  When you get a genuine, telling look at who a person really is – when they don’t know you’re watching.

Or.  When someone gets a close up of you.  What do they see when you don’t know they’re watching?

Marriage is a mirror – a magnified, never cloudy, clear look at who you really are.  That person who shares your home, your bed and your secrets knows all of you.  Sometimes when you look at yourself through his/her eyes, what’s staring back isn’t pretty.  Is the imperfect person your spouse sees getting better?  Are you working on the areas where you fall short?  Are you maturing and growing?  Or are you just hoping no one takes a close up?  When he takes a close up and I’m not ready, am I proud of who he sees?

Parenting will push you to the limit of every boundary.  Those little people have the ability to make you happier and laugh harder than you ever have.  They can make you try things you wouldn’t have otherwise and feel freedom that’s often forgotten by adults.  They can also infuriate you, make you cry, doubt yourself and exhaust even the most energetic.  They never give you time to prepare for a close up.  When they look, are you who you want them to see?  When she looks close up, am I the person I want her to model her life after?

Christianity is not a box to mark on a form or simply the name of a religion.  It’s a belief in eternity – forever.  It’s not ambiguous.  It’s a yes or no question.  It’s a guideline for every conversation, action or look.  No matter where you are, who you’re with or what you’re doing.  If you say you believe it, do the people around you know that?  Do they know what you believe at all?  If someone took a close up of me when I wasn’t ready, would it look the way I hope?

And the list goes on.  Coworkers, those less fortunate than you, parents, siblings… 

Is your unintended close up the picture you want the world to see? 

Is mine?

Stuff I found in my purse...

Hop on Pop
Big Dog, Little Dog
Oh, the Thinks You Can Think
Hand, Hand, Finger, Thumb (affectionately referred to as "The Monkey Book")

plastic spoon (because you never know when you may need to eat pudding)

pudding (I think we covered this)

baby doll shoes

hair bow

sleeve of Ritz crackers

plastic bird on a skateboard

pink, polka-dotted sunglasses

red-violet crayon

spiral notebook (It used to be for jotting down notes or grocery lists.  Now every single page has been colored on.  Seriously - every page.  Was she marking her territory?)

And waaaay down at the bottom...
cosmetic bag, wallet, keys

Vintage Friends

We wear vintage clothes and drive vintage cars.  We decorate with vintage furniture.  Vintage is a word used a lot these days, but I bet most don’t know the actual definition. 

Vintage: of, relating to, or denoting wine of high quality; the year or place in which wine, esp. wine of high quality, was produced; an unusually superior wine

I’ve never been a wine connoisseur.  I don’t know what year, aroma or finish are best.  I only recently learned the difference between a red and white wine glass.  But as I looked at this definition, I kept thinking of the adage, “like a fine wine, it gets better with time.”  I don’t know vintage wine.  But I do know vintage girlfriends.

I mention my friends Hope and Brandy so often that people who have never met them feel like they know them.  They are so much a part of me that when we are together, you can’t tell where one of us ends and the other begins.  People have told us for years that our friendship is special.  The older I get, the more I understand what those people mean.  Ours is a sisterhood of high quality, unusually superior.

The limited knowledge I do have of wine is that there is a direct correlation between the quality and age of the wine.  The longer it has been able to ferment, the better it is.  That is the secret to this cherished friendship of mine.  I have known Hope longer than I have known myself.  Our lives have been intertwined since we were 11 years old.  And Brandy…Brandy has known me longer than I’ve known myself.  At 14, when you feel like nothing around you is consistent, I found a friend who (on the inside) was my identical twin.  I struggle to describe the depth of our friendship to anyone who doesn’t know us collectively.  (Because together, we are an entity in its own right.)  The truth is, rare things can’t readily be described.  That’s what makes them great. 

There are a million websites dedicated to wine.  They compare, contrast, rate and rank.  But each site has a similar disclaimer somewhere within.  They all recognize that taste is subjective so the only way to truly understand and appreciate good wine is to taste for one’s self. 

Girlfriends are the same.  I may not be able to objectively explain, but I know one thing for sure.  I pray daily that Brynna and her godsisters, MacKenzie, Nia, Nala, Hannah and Zoe meet a vintage friend of their own.  I pray each girl finds a friend who knows her so well that as she discovers who she is inside, her sister is there – loving, encouraging, supporting and strengthening her every step of the way.  Year after year.  Season after season.  I pray she finds a friend of high quality, unusually superior.

Sometimes...

Sometimes you need to buckle down, suck it up and work a little harder.

Sometimes you need to give yourself some grace.

Sometimes you need to put on your big girl panties and get over it.

Sometimes you need to laugh it off.

Sometimes you need to take a nap.

Sometimes you need to buy new shoes.

Sometimes you need to trust.

Sometimes you need to be still.

Sometimes you need to realize it's not about you.

Sometimes you need to give God the control you're holding onto so tightly.

Sometimes you need to sit in the floor and color - just because she wants you to.