Cuteness, Times Seven

I’m convinced that Sweetgirl is able to sense my reluctance to allow her to grow up.

You see, she turned seven last week.


As we celebrated the risen King, Jesus, we also celebrated another year with a girl whose spirit is so big and beautifully loud, that all who meet her are charmed.

This child is able to dance, sing, bounce, and breathe with joyful abandon. Sometimes, I think to myself, “I want to be like her when I grow up!”

Her confidence in her abilities sometimes outshines her actual abilities – and you know what? That’s exactly the way I hope it always is for her.

I want her to aim for the stars, keeping her eyes fixed on The One who already thinks she’s made it.

She catches me sighing in resignation as she’s making a scrapbook page instead of coloring Doc McStuffins. To that, she says, “Mama, I have to keep growing up. That’s my job, you know.”

Indeed, child. Indeed.

If I were a letter writer, this is what I’d tell her.

Dear Sweetgirl,

I love you.

I love your spirit of adventure. Please, never stop seeking wonder.

I adore your smile. Please remember to flash it toward any and all.

Your tender-hearted ways make me so proud. Please keep your heart soft towards this world.

I love your belief in a God you cannot see, but to Whom you often talk. Please, never stop talking to God.

I love, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, your adoration for the color pink. Please, know that it was you who turned your mama into a pink lover, too.

And most of all, I love seeing how you change each year. You keep trying new things and loving new things and understanding new things and I love every minute of it!

I’m so glad that God gave us you!

Happy Seven, child of mine!



Let’s Recap, Shall We

Last week, we were all about this:

Hot_Pink_Cast_MissindeedyBecause, Lord knows there’s not enough drama around here. And, I can now add reason number 237 to my list of “Reasons Why I Detest Trampolines”. All I can say is, thank goodness for Hot Pink Castery. (I’m becoming my own veritable dictionary, aren’t I?)

Thankfully, the weekend was more celebratory!

First, this happened:

masquerade_missindeedyWe attended a fundraiser for our kids’ elementary school. It was nice to get all gussied up, talk to other parents (sans children), and hit the dance floor! (I don’t want to brag, but I do a mean Y.M.C.A.) And, although I had to practice wearing heels (again) for a few minutes a day for the week leading up to it, the night was a huge success.

Then, Saturday, it was all this:

Bama_Movin_MissindeedyThis move up in the AP Rankings made me all sorts of happy, because


We ended the weekend on this note:

B_day_MissindeedyAnd, I don’t feel even a little bit older. I will say, we counted up the number of teacups and saucers that my grandparents have faithfully sent The Birthday Flowers in over The Years, and… there are a few decades worth. That can age a person real fast.

In the ebb and flow of life, though, I’m feeling like the tide is pretty high. (You see what I did there? No? It’s a Bama thing.)

Yes indeedy.

We’re Working On It

I posted this picture, which Sweetgirl had drawn, on The Facebook a few weeks ago:


While colorful and detailed, some of the details concern me. Like, why are they picking flowers in ball gowns?  Why can you see through their dresses? And, probably most importantly, why don’t the puffy sleeves look like… sleeves?

“Look at how happy everyone is!”, someone pointed out.

“What lovely and colorful dresses!”, another said.

I chalked it up to “Kindergarten Art.” And, since that last drawing was meant to be delivered to a little friend down the street, I was able to just let it go.

Until this one.

Which is now prominently displayed in the hall.

Of her school.


And it took the loving text message from one of my dearest Sweet Friends to alert me to this. Apparently, lots of folks in our school now have questions.

“Why do they play basketball in ball gowns over there?”

“Those are puffy sleeves, right?”

“Where, exactly, are they buying those ball gowns, anyway?”

However, I am an eternal optimist. Despite the fact that I have never, in the history of ever, played basketball with that child, I see potential in her story-telling abilities.

And then, there’s always this:

Sweetfriend_Text_aboutSweetgirl_MissindeedyOh, yes indeedy!

What a Weekend!

We were uber-busy this past week.  I’m surprised I didn’t collapse before Sunday. But God is good.  He held me together right up until yesterday.  Then, I was down for the count.  But, like one of those bouncy punchy bopper thingies (I really can’t think of the name of that thing to save my life! Anyone???) , I’m back up and at em’ today.

We celebrated Sweetgirl’s 5th birthday on Friday.  Her party was on Saturday, and can we all just agree that ten 4 and 5-year-olds hyped up on cake and dancing like they’re 12 is enough to push any parent over the edge?  Can we?!

I am going to try to just hit the highlights here, but my favorite was, by far, Sweetgirl’s blue hair.  It was just fun! And so… her! We used a product called Hair Chalk.  Have you ever?  Me neither. But, I’m here to inform.  And entertain.  But for now, inform.  So, Hair Flairs Color Chalk is what we used.  It goes on very easily by rubbing it directly onto the hair to be colored.  Lessons learned?  1) Wear rubber gloves.  2) Do not allow the hair to touch ANYTHING in your house for the next few hours.  (Let’s just say that there are a few places on the walls and couches that are a lovely shade of aqua.  I’m going to pretend they aren’t there until they go away on their own.  Good strategy?)


And then, on Saturday, we partied like it was 1999.  Only, it was 2013.  And the party people were the Under Six Crowd.  Mercy…


The Gammy and The Grampa had driven up for he occasion and I think I can state with some level of certainty that by party’s end, we all just wanted to lay down where we were and sleep until 2015.

But, there was leftover cake to be had.  And we do not ever waste cake in this house.  Indeed.  It’s actually considered illegal in this family.  According to law #8 section 22 of the Missindeedy Family Laws and Codes… Oh, kidding!  But, for realz, we don’t waste cake.  Someone worked hard to make this thing of beauty.


Anyone hungry?  We have approximately half of a half sheet cake left over.  And I refuse to eat another 3 pieces in one sitting piece. Let it never be said that I don’t know how to share.

Happy Monday!

Teddybear Theology

Growing up, I had a teddy bear that was precious to me.  Preh-shus! I dubbed him, Tedward. I have no idea why.  I suppose my desire to name things anything other than the most popular or common names started young.

When Tedward was snuggled up with me, in my bed, I was able to sleep sweetly.  Tucked under my arm on car rides, I felt secure.  But most importantly, rubbing Tedward’s furry ear against my nose became a source of great comfort.  (Although, The Nana and Captain Ahab were thankful that rubbing his ear to my nose took the place of sucking my thumb. In the 4th grade!  I so wish I were kidding. Sigh… Braces for five years, anyone?)

Eventually, that furry ear became less and less furry.  He lost an eye.  At some point, the threading, that was his nose, seemed to disappear.  And, somewhere along the way, he developed a hole on the inside of one of his legs that led to much Losing Of The Stuffing. (If only it worked that way in real life.)

I didn’t give two hoots about any of that, though.  He was still my bear.  And I loved him so.  I imagine that God feels much the same way about me.  I have lost some of my stuffing (my fervor for him).  Sometimes, my ability to sniff out the truth is dulled.  My eyes zero in on one good thing to the exclusion of all the better things He has for me.  But, he loves me still.  Thank you God!

That bear was so important to me, and had seen me through so much joy and sorrow, that I even packed him in my suitcase for my wedding night.  Ask Sweetman.  He was a bit taken aback when I informed him that this would happen, but he knew that Tedward was important and he loved me.  (It also confirmed in my heart that THIS was the man for me!)

And now, you probably know far more than you ever wanted to about that.

Fast forward almost four years.  The Nana graciously spent the first two weeks of Sweetboy’s birth with Sweetman and I to see us through the crazy roller coaster ride of Brand Spankin’ New Parenthood.

She noticed, the day that we were to bring Sweetboy home from the hospital, that Tedward was on my bed.  And he was looking worn.  She also, in her wisdom, knew that the last thing I’d be thinking about, that first night home from the hospital, would be Tedward.  So, she packed him in her suitcase with the intent of performing a little Stuffed Animal Surgery.

Somewhere around day 4 of being home, sleep-deprived and hormone-infused, I asked her if she’d seen Tedward.  She calmly explained that she noticed he was a bit threadbare and wanted to take him back home with her to repair him.

We both forgot about him.  Sadly, for almost a decade.

Until last week.  Last week, we received a Valentine’s Box in the mail from The Nana.  And, among other treasures, here’s what was inside:


You can read the note for yourself.  I cried.  And then practically hugged the stuffing right out of him.  He was instantly snatched from my hands by my Sweetgirl.  I attempted to chase after her and tell her his long and sweet history with me.  She had other intentions.

Please meet “Rosie Glitter”:


Oh. My. Stars.

Poor bear.

But, he is with me again.  Even if he’s now a she. And even if he’s been claimed by my children.

Much like my relationship with God.

Sometimes, I want to hug the stuffing right out of Him. He’s seen me through highs and lows.  He loves me no matter what and He’s always with me.  And I pray, oh how I pray, to pass my love for Him right on down to my sweet children. Oh, yes indeedy!