Donated hair

Violet has a friend in her Primary class who is in the hospital. Her friend Natalie AND Natalie's sister Alice both have a rare immune disorder and both are having a bone-marrow transplant that will hopefully (cross fingers!) cure the condition. If you want to read more about this amazing family, you can visit their blog Fishes for Marrow Wishes.

Anyway, at church yesterday, the class had a Skype visit with Natalie. Violet was a little worried that Natalie had lost her hair from the chemo and so we had a talk about it. After a few hours, Violet came back and said that she wanted her hair cut off and donated to Locks for Love (which mostly does wigs for children who lose their hair from alopecia areata). I asked her to think about it and say a prayer about it and if she still wanted to, we would get a haircut.

Well, today she was still excited about donating her hair. Here's the last minutes of her really long, down-to-her-waist (totally-in-need-of-a-trim) hair.

10 inches of hair is a lot on a little girl!

And here's the results! Doesn't she look grown-up and stylish? She has spent the evening telling me that it's OK, I will still be able to braid her hair and do half-ups and even low piggies. Do you like how she's reassuring me?

Do you ever have a day when, in between the sibling squabbles and constant demands and threats to lock them in their room and feed them meals through a cat flap, you are treated to a part of their personality that is generous and selfless and beautiful?

This was that day.

Birthday Boy

Being a toddler is totally overrated. Do not you agree? I've spent a lot of time and effort trying to talk Smitty Baby into staying a baby.

Don't you want to stay a little snack-sized armful for a bit longer?

You don't really want those teeth, do you?

Crawling beats walking anydangday. Especially when you have a fuzzy tiger face right smack on your crawling bum.

I'm pretty sure all the cool kids are still in 6-month sizes.

Are you SURE you don't want to put some of these developmental milestones off a bit longer?

These were the most well-reasoned of my many, many arguments. I've got more!

Nothing doing, he said.

The night before his birthday, after the whole house had gone to bed, I got him back out of his crib and held his fleecy-pajamaed little self and snuffed up his not-newborn-anymore smell. And cried real tears.

And I realized that, as much as I want my baby to stay a little baby, the things he's doing now are amazing too. The pigeon-toed bulldog crawl and tiny voice saying 'momom' of 11 months is just as adorable as the scrunch-faced stretches and curled-up legs of 11 days. And we certainly get more sleep, says the rational part of my brain. Yes, says the part that's crying the tears. Only you just can't rewind the crawling to the curled-up froggy legs. You can't take 23 pounds of wiggles and make it seem like 7 pounds of helpless in your arms.

But I wish I could. Oh how I wish.


Well, my love, my own, in spite of all my advice you went ahead and turned one anyway. But we could still hold off on the walking thing. Just a wee bit longer.

Let them eat cake

Or cupcakes.

Peekaboo Barn cupcakes, to be exact. Smitty's favorite thing in the whole wide world of entertainment and Possible Party Themes is Peekaboo Barn. And Elmo. But mostly Peekaboo Barn.

Also Elmo involves waaaay to much red-dyed frosting and I am not A-OK with that.

And now, Birthday Boy Smitty will tell you how one attacks ones first birthday cupcake.

And I did receive a cupcake from my sister and I did take it for my own. Also I did wonder why I was sitting on the kitchen table.

I did poke at the cupcake. I did lick it and touch it and drop it.

And behold! I found it squishy and delightsome to taste.

And I did find that the cupcake did not end at the frosting bit but that there was a manner of cake beneath which I could crush and smoosh.

And I did wiggle and laugh and perhaps do a little dance as I pondered mine own good fortune.

Yea I did savor the cupcake. And it was good.

{fin}