Anonymous said...
Could it be that if one older sister has limited hair and the two younger sisters keep doing weird stuff to their hair, Like making it stick up in places and cutting it weird and all kinds of colors sometimes two or three at one time, that the younger ones are acting out of fear that they will lose theirs like the older one, so therefore better do it all before it is too late?-G 


There are a multitude of reasons that one might attempt the referenced hairstyles. What if, for example, one was attacked by a group of miniature cartoon Asians with spiky yellow hair and fireballs? Having blue bangs, in that scenario, basically ensures victory. 
Or, say that you are prone to joining gatherings of tens of thousands. Let’s say you have medium length thin brown hair. When the newspaper publishes pictures of the backs of 8000 heads, you might not recognize yourself. If, however, you have very very tall maroon sections on the back of your head like a rooster, you can post the back of your head on your Facebook with confidence.
Fear of hair loss is probably a minor motivation, although Emperor Pokino might say differently.

BethC said...
ms sp,
i had an interesting dream: 
help me develop a "money matters american idol" program. this will be a huge hit! 
winners use their finances wisely for the grande prize.


That is not a very interesting dream. Try dreaming that you took a band of merry Chihuahuas on a cruise with Steven Seagal. Hijinks ensue. Give that a try.


Mommy Mere Pete said...
SP~

Why does Marcie always call Peppermint Patty "sir" in all the Peanuts cartoons?? 

How did Snoopy become the Red Baron??

This is a question that spans the ages, and wiser minds than mine (Socrates, Plato, Dr. Phil) have tried to answer it. I will defer to their wisdom.


Anonymous said...
SP - why is March 15th called the "ides of March" and what is an ide?

Ides are very similar to wides, but without the w. The ides of March are wides without w’s, from the month of March.

This is what is happening in my life, in no particular order: toddlers, not exercising, books, food, adoption. That's the majority of the pie chart, and thus, the basic topic repertoire around here.

Today, Han and Richy and I had physicals to determine if we, in fact, can walk independently, see down hallways and bend over enough to lift children. I gotta tell you, I think we nailed it.

It was a little funny, though. Somehow, we usually end up in extremely low-income areas when we do this kinda stuff... probably because we are low-income. So we went and they did the sliding scale and it was super cheap, which was awesome. But it's always a little funny to have dental work or medical exams or whatever in these places, because they are not so strict.

We had to kinda nudge them along to do all the tests on the paperwork, like requesting that, if they wouldn't mind, could they please inject us with tuberculosis? The TB test is some sort of rite of adoption passage, evidently. The MOG was more than a little concerned about the needle, and the fact that they were giving us tuberculosis to see if we have tuberculosis. None of the nurses seemed to know much about it, so I ended up googling it on the ol' iPhone and then we all felt better. We'll find out Monday if we have it, or have been exposed to it, besides the fact that they just shot us up with it.

We took the toddlers, because our appointments were scheduled for 9:45, 10:15 and 10:45 and it seemed like surely it would be a quick deal. Not so much... we were out by noon. It felt like a full 24 hours had passed waiting in there, and doing regular exorcisms on Toby and Brynn (this is a joke).

You know what's exciting, though? That's done! One step closer! :D

We are still raising money- we have a fantastic start but still need LOTS of help. The link to donate is over on the top left, or you can give us your email and we'll send you our mailing address.

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Your weekend assignment: Submit your questions of a general and interesting nature to that bastion of wisdom, Ms. Smartypants! MSP will answer at some point on Monday, unless she is stricken with tuberculosis that she ASKED for. See some archives here!

In theory, I try to have fresh hot blog commentary for you 5 days a week. Most weeks, I either skip a day or two, or phone it in... sometimes what I have to say is not really ready to be said, and sometimes my brain is too tired for a series of complete sentences.

Today, directly before finishing the last sentence, I was preparing to send you off to Ms. Smartypants for a weekend full of general inquiries of an amusing nature. THEN, the bus came and I realized it was Thursday, not Friday. So I will save Dame Smarty for tomorrow.

If you have ZERO idea what I am talking about, do some research. It will come in handy tomorrow, which is the real Friday.

Part of why I am having a hard time talking is I am forming thoughts... I am studying and learning so much right now, about adoption, and race and racism. I'm studying like we are definitely getting a minority baby, when the reality is, we might not. (but I think we will) If we do, I need to be prepared.

Being black in America is not the same as being white, even if you're raised in a white family. And being a different race matters. It's not right or helpful to be "colorblind". I'm reading a really fascinating book right now called Black Baby White Hands written by a black adoptee raised in a white family in the late 60s and 70s. It's not totally easy to read, because I'd like to believe love is enough, but it is valuable to read and try to see from a different perspective.

It's deep, though, thinking about this stuff. Sometimes I don't know what I think or how I feel and so I just don't talk about it, or write about it. That's when it gets quiet around here. So there you go.

This house has a fantastic sunroom. It is large with tile floors, and windows all around. I love it a LOT. The only problem is, it has a lot of problems. Like, for example, it was built by a drunk man during an earthquake. Only possible explanation. The hard tile floors were evidently built on a soft surface, so the floor gives.... but the tile, not so flexible. Every windowsill is leaning sharply to the right, and one of the windows is a large random rectangle of paneless Plexiglass. The trim above the sliding glass door has been a source of merriment on many house tours. I posted a little about it back when we moved in. The other major problem is that it is large, with tile floors and lots of windows. Therefore, it is very, very difficult to heat.

Last summer, it had its heyday as a sort of second living room, where we held homegroups and visited late into the night, discussing Babylon or what have you. It was a glorious haven until the first freeze, when we dumped it like a junior high Christian school banquet date.

This week it got a new lease on life when the band came to record the new CD in the basement, and a 4 year old and two 3 year olds, while vastly entertaining, were quite a bit of background noise. We mommies and our offspring were banished to the sunroom, which became the playroom. They killed it. I mean, they broke out the toys with a vengeance, and they kept the awkwardly leaning French doors in action going in and back outside pretty constantly. It worked really, really well in that capacity, proving itself basically soundproof. It's currently still in the post-celebration mode, and I am going to have to go through and do some demolition and toy-corralling to get it CPS worthy.

I therefore deemed it then and evermore the playroom, to be celebrated by miniature folk and their many, many, many toys, from here until forever, amen. I posed it delicately to the MOG, as he is the Toy Gestapo, and I expected to have to fight for it (in a pleasant and submissive manner) but he was all for it, assuming that we buy overpriced toy containers directly from the store, that have not been pre-owned. He has no respect for my art of thrifting. Still, it will be nice to have a fancy real toy box that we can dent and color on ourselves, instead of inheriting the damage. I hope to make it really cute and organized and then I will submit it to Better Homes and Gardens and maybe get a book contract.

Is this really worth an entire blog post? Well, no. But it's got a couple of good lines and at least I wrote something. Don't juuuudge.

Several months ago, I took Richy (R2) to a growth specialist on a recommendation from the nutritionist. He is almost 11, but he weighs less than 40 pounds and is about the height of a 5 year old. They were concerned about his growth, and organ growth and bone health. I vaguely remember being urged to start him on growth hormones lest his organs grew too big or stayed too small or something and, you know, killed him. In retrospect, I had all the kids there by myself and the doctor could have said anything and it would have been a mystery to me. So I came home from that appointment, alarmed the MOG and then waited for the next step. Well, the next step was injections. As in, needles. Every DAY.

This particular child has to be held down by 4 nurses to get his blood taken. Then, he tries to beat himself black and blue for a half-hour, EVERY time. So the thought of daily injections stopped us cold. Then we went on tour, and had holidays, and had January, and so on, and then today was finally the appointment we made to talk to the doctor and ask what-kinda-life-threatening are we talkin bout here. 

She basically said that Richy, based on our stature, would likely be 5'9 or 5'10 at adulthood, if his growth was normal. If we don't intervene, he probably won't get taller than 5 feet, and there is some potential for problems with his bone health and organ growth. The good news is, according to a bone age scan, his body thinks he is 7. So we are several years away from puberty and the beginning of growth-plate fusing. Oh, and the other good news is, they now have a needle-less device that evidently shoots high-powered air and injects the medicine with no needle. I have no idea how it works... they want us to come in and get shot with it so we can feel how easy it is. The demonstration couldn't happen today because all the nurses were at lunch, and I can't say I was disappointed to skip it.

We're coming back in 6 months to do some more charting and testing and we'll decide then if the growth hormones are necessary. If he only makes it to 5 feet tall, at least I know how to navigate the world from that height and I can show him the ropes. We also have to keep in mind that he, without a miracle, will be living  with and dependent on us for his lifetime, so being small is easier, that way. A lot to think about, but I'm glad we don't have to start the injections now. 

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In adoption news, donations are still coming in and we are so grateful. When I finish this blog entry, if the house is still quiet, I am going to go deep into my Self Study document and really think hard about things like, What is my personality, anyway?

The first thing is, look at this fundraising ticker over on the left. That is amazing. MAN, I just LOVE faith. Seriously. When you hit on something that's in the heart of God and the momentum just carries you. I have to step up my game and finish paperwork, because financially we are almost ready to turn this application in! I'm still waiting on some stuff to come from Texas, but wow... I am excited. Thus the all caps. We still have lots to raise, so feel free to click and donate.

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In the same vein, of faith and being surprised by God, Radiant's drummer and his family are in town this week, recording and looking for a place to live when they move to KC in a couple of months. Out of nowhere, our neighbor offers the information that they're moving, and then their house is really perfect. It just seems like a crazy God-thing, and I will be surprised if they don't get it. ACROSS THE STREET. Amazing.

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This might have also been the best week of Toby's life, since his friend Noah is living in his house... they play constantly. If they get that house, I think both of their lives will be complete.

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You might be like, why so little blogging? It's a little hard to think these days, what with the rock and roll at all hours.

My first experiences with money were at my sister Georgia's house. She watched me during the day along with her 4 kids, and we could all earn money for doing chores. The harder the chore, the more money... but the most you were gonna make was a dime. I was the only one disgruntled about the pay rates... I would push the vacuum resentfully, telling Georgia, "When I'm in the White House, I'm gonna hire you to vacuum and pay you a dime. Still, we were busy little bees and then we'd take our dollar or 75 cents to the store and live it up. And that was tremendously satisfying. Even if I just bought a piece of posterboard to decorate, I bought it with my chore money.

So I'm excited to think about starting my guys on some kind of money learning- I know they'll enjoy it, too.

I started Toby on a bribe reward system yesterday. The goal, since I am a good parent, is to stop him from doing things that annoy me. The effect, however, will be a better behaved child, regardless of my motivations. I made a chart, with 6 tasks- staying in his room until 8 am, staying seated during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, staying quiet during quiet time, and dressing himself. Then, at the end of the day, if he gets all 6 stars, he gets money. Like, a nickel or a penny or whatever I have around, and we put it in a jar. That's the goal.

He is super motivated by reward, so he rocked it yesterday. Today, not so much. He wants to get it right, but he doesn't remember in time and then he's already gotten up or come in my room at 6 am or what have you. So here's the quandary. I don't want to start the day like, oh, you already broke #1 and so you won't get all 6 stars no matter how good you are the rest of the day. On the other hand, I don't want to be wishy washy and uncommitted

A couple ideas: he gets the reward for achieving 5 out of 6; or a graduated award system, (which sounds like too much work for me), or I remind him constantly... or what? Shoot me some ideas.

Today, I went on a mini-shopping trip, which is pretty typical of me. The problem is, I have a terminal forgetting-stuff disease, even when I have a list. That makes for a lot of starting and stopping throughout the store, like I am attached to a yo-yo. Drive past the cereal aisle YOINK back to the cereal aisle, drive down YOINK back to the milk, and so on. I am probably fascinating to watch as I almost mow down the same ol granny time and again.

All this to say, today I was buying milk & a few little items while getting the oil changed. (don't tell me not to get the oil changed at Walmart, I always will because it's at the same place as the FOOD, even if they kill baby squirrels to make the oil or spit in my gas tank.) So that makes for 30-40 minutes to kill at the Imperialist Empire, which is great because there's a lot of clearance stuff. Primarily Miley Cyrus clearance stuff.

Let me say, I am neither a Miley fan or a Miley hater. She's just a kid and I'm not going to say mean stuff about her. But the clothes... there are TONS of clothes on clearance. Like, for 1 dollar. Why is this? I have a theory. The clothes are pretty distinctive. I like most of them. They're stylized and ruffled and interesting. But, here's the deal. You do NOT want to be the 4th girl in your homeroom wearing a black tank with a purple peacock feather and one shoulder. Not to mention everybody and their mama saw it at Walmart across from the clearance bananas.

Not that I care. Nobody at the library will have the black peasant top with the rainbow threading that I bought for a dollar. And if they do, I'll just be all superior in my head like, they shop at Walmart.

The new drugs worked great. If you're just joining me, this is not a junkie review blog. I am just drugging my child. If you're just joining me, this is not a child abuse blog. (well, it depends on who you're asking. the kid thinks he's abused)

Anyways. He slept better. I set my alarm for every 4 hours and woke him up enough that he would be able to swallow, then squirted the meds down his poor little throat and went back to bed. So I feel somewhat rested, and he seems much happier.

I am a little void of interesting topics these days. I mean, to me, it's interesting that I made an appointment for all the grownups in my house to be fingerprinted ($52 each- ouch) and filled out child abuse checks for both Missouri and Texas, and made a stack of documents to be signed in front of a notary. But to you... hey- back over here! That's the way of it, though.

But let's say you've never adopted, and you want to know what it might look like. I'll tell you a little. First, we filled out a pre-application, which was about what you'd write for a credit card application, and mailed it in with $50. Then, we were approved to apply. We got 6 packets of documents and met with a social worker and adoption consultant for an hour or two, and talked about the basics of what kind of adoption we want and the process, and some of the financials.

Now, we're knee deep in that 6 packets of paperwork. I have sent off for various documents, like birth certificates, and made copies of lots of other ones, like our marriage license and drivers licenses and such. So, we wait. In the meanwhile, we have self-studies, which are exercises in introspection for 10+ pages, and our interracial questionnaire. We also have doctor's appointments, to ensure that we are healthy enough to have kids. If I get all the documents back in a few weeks, and have all our appointments, and so on, then I will need $1500 to turn in our application and begin our homestudy. For the homestudy, we'll pay about $600 up front and then another $500 or so in the middle.

So there you go, that's the beginning. At least, as far as I know. I feel so excited and so full of faith. It's just one of those things you know God is behind, and so there's no worry that it won't work out. It just will.

and now, some gratuitous cuteness, with pudding, on Toby's request.

I am typing this as I am supposed to be sleeping. I wish I was one of those people that could fall asleep at will, like some people I'm married to. Instead, I lie awake, deciding what is the most worrisome thing I can think of... Once I think of that one thing, then I can focus on it and freak myself out. I know, worry's a sin. So I try to pray and think happy thoughts, but ultimately, I think "Why the heck am I laying in bed? In the middle of the day? Thinking about who I might have inadvertently insulted when I made fun of Canada?" or whatever. So I quit trying to nap and get up. Waste. Of. Time.

Anyway, this post brought to you by delirium, since R2 has spent the last 4 nights crying instead of sleeping, poor little guy. I have spent the last 4 nights trying to count milliliters of highly potent drugs in the dark, whilst asleep, and then holding R2 down and making him drink them. Seriously. He probably thinks I hate him. Then, 10 minutes later, it kicks in and he falls asleep and I don't, for like an hour. Then it starts again. We're almost a week post-op here, and I really hope it starts getting better. Today we got new drugs, bigger drugs to try to stop the pain. May it work, Amen.

Toby has been really trying to help me in my sleep-deprived and punchy condition, by screaming. ALL DAY LONG. And also, falling down in a hysterical heap because Brynn SANG TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR WRONG. I think he's sick, think we're all a little sick... *delete paragraph mocking spouse*

In adoption news, I worked a lot on my self-study and interracial questionnaire this weekend... really, if I am to answer any deep questions, I need to sleep. Or fake it. Just kidding, social worker friends! We have raised over $1200, isn't that amazing? If you want to donate, the link is over there in the left sidebar, or you can leave your email address in a comment and I will send you our mailing address.

That's it for today, folks. Sayonara.