Holy Hairballs!!
The process of hair brushing is a necessary evil. Just ask my girls. The torture that results in a untangled hairdo is a thing my girls dread.
They wince. They whine. The squint their eyeballs. They lean forward to try to escape the brushing implement. If they are lucky, a mirror is in front of them, so they can take their face making skills to the next level. It is a treasured time of bonding. And crying.
When the horrendous event comes to it’s beautifully coifed end… the girls will get up and run to the mirror. Where they admire themselves. They demurely batt their eyelashes. Coyly turn and look over their shoulder. They flash a super star smile at their reflection and discover what I sometimes tell them is true. “Beauty is pain.” (That’s a joke.)
The real pain is the hair balls that follow. All tangled up in my brushes. Eww.
Which brings me to my point. (I knew I had one all along.)
I got a new hair brush… check it out…..
Can you see the hair ball waiting to be freed from it’s bristley prison? No? Well, trust me… it’s there. Lurking beneath the black bristles. But, wait… look at that red button…. wonder what it’s for?
Like magic all the bristles disappear into the barrel. Leaving only the abandoned folicles behind.
Now comes the skin crawling duty of removing aforementioned hair.
It’s a dirty job. But someone’s got to do it.
And look!!! It’s like a brand new brush!!
On a side note: how bored am I this morning? I have a ton of house work I could be doin. But noooo! Letting the interweb know about this miracle grooming utensil was at the top of my priority list today. I am a complex lady.
On another unrelated sidenote: Check out my freckled fingers. What’s up with that?
We need 100cc’s of Ginger Ale! Stat!
And Ramen Noodles. And popsicles. And to make our couches into beds. And drag out all our pillows into our living room. And force all adults to watch cartoons. To keep the thermometer within reach AT ALL TIMES. And for my arms to get sore from rubbing backs.
Because this, my friends is what sickness means in the Neff House. It is a ritual we go through when each child shows signs of any illness. And yesterday we didn’t just experience one sick child, but three. Three children, all with the same complaints,: “Mom, my neck hurts.” and “Mom, my head hurts.” and Mom, my belly hurts.”. If you have children, then you should recognize these maladies as symptoms of strep.
So now we wait for the doctor to open his doors. A mere 10 minutes from now I will begin the calling to try to get through to a doctor’s office whose phone lines will be, no doubt, busy from all the other parents trying to get their children in to see him today. We will pray for favor. Amen.
Below you will enjoy picture of each ailing one.
First Reggie. Notice she is pretty excited about the prospect of getting to stay home. “Mom, do I get to stay home from school tomorrow?” She likes to see the glass half full. She enjoys what she can outta this experience. She is also an original child and has decided to mix it up with an additional complaint, “Mom, my one ear hurts.” She always has to be the best. (Over achiever. Humph.)
Reese, ah my baby. She was pretty upset about this whole illness thing. She acted as if someone gave it to her on purpose. Like we did it TO her. And she let us all know. Oh, the grouchiness that has ensued after the onset of the, “Mom, my neck hurts!” Oh, the grouchiness. But, oh, the change in her that was wrought with one dose of Motrin. Ah, Motrin. In my prayer time last night lifted up thanksgiving for the person who invented Motrin. It is in my humble opinion, a miracle drug. Thank you, God. Amen.
Keni, though reacts differently. She has a super immune system and never ever gets sick. (She’s like her Dad.) And when the day does come that her body submits to a germ, she is very disappointed. In herself. “Mom, what about my homework?” and “Mom, what about my test?” and “I CAN”T miss my test!” and “I will get in trouble!” and “What about my library book?” She runs through all the possible horrible implications of missing her schooling. The little brain just won’t let her rest. It is bad enough she is being tortured in body, but I think the mental torture she puts herself through is much worse.
She should embrace the situation. Like this:
Coach Cami.
Waa?
Coach?
Did you just read that right?
Was it a typo?
A delusion?
Nope.
I am,in fact, a soccer coach.
A girl’s U-10 league soccer coach.
A whistle blowin’. Offside calling. “Get your body in the game, girls!” Coach.
Here is my team: The Thrashers
And whose that beauty getting poked in the side? With one foot playfully kicked back in delight? Yep, my baby girl, Keni.
Keni is the reason I am a coach this season. A cleats wearing. Team roster writing. Sweaty eyebrows. (that’s right folks… sweaty eyebrows) Penalty calling coach.
The big surprise tho? I love soccer.
I am still learning the rules of the game, the ins and outs of it all. But I love it. The game is awesome. The action is non stop. The girls have a great time. I get a little exercise. (Did I mention my sweaty eyebrows?) And it’s all over in under an hour.
You can’t beat that, people.
Well, you can. But let’s not go there now. We’re talking about the kids here.
The only downside? I have to Ref a few games.
Now, being a Ref? That stinks.
Not the kids part, mind you, those guys are great.
But the parents. And whew! The other coaches. Let’s just say, they are just not well mannered citizens when I blow or don’t blow the whistle.
But I am willing to look the other way.
For the love of the game.
My Eyebrow.
Well, half of it anyways.
The New Me.
Thanks to my bosom buddy, Joy. For my new look. She spent hours at my house with many distractions. Naked babies. Fighting 6 year olds. Screaming 7 year olds. And I appreciate it sooo much! I even forgive you for the eyebrow fiasco. (Not shown here.)
Easter Morning.
Here are Charlie’s Angels. In all their Easter Morning glory.
My little princess who leads her people to victory, my fair and beautiful anointed one, my pure and innocent daughter and my little enthusiastic cascade of laughter. (Who looks a little concerned, by the way.)
They are, how do you say? Ah, yes… cute beyond all measure.
More Sewing With Cami.
I haven’t been able to find any good patterns for underwear.
But I found this:
And look! Look! I added a cell phone pouch!
This is actually pretty fun. (How lame do I sound?) This tote and the last one I posted about only took around an hour each to make. Who knew I’d like sewing?
Sewing with Cami.
I am always looking for things to distract me from cleaning.
I’ve been wanting to try my hand at sewing. I bought a machine last year. I thought I’d start with diaper/tote bags.
This is my first one.
Next I’m gonna take up taxidermy.
