Thursday, September 24, 2009

Freak of Nature

Does someone want to tell me why the season of fall will not come? Seriously. The decorations have been up, pumpkins reign in this house. You know I cannot stand a warm Halloween. It better get its act together. Fall is my favorite season. Why is the humidity lurking? Ugh. I walk out the door in the morning anticipating that crisp fall air, and I breathe in the northeast humidity. This is not Florida. I did not ask for this. It is 80 some odd degrees today. It's just not right.
My children are quickly moving into the next size clothing. This added sunshine has made them sprout like weeds. Ethan is getting longer and bulkier, he is going to be on the offensive line. He is going to eat me out of house and home. Kendall is like a string bean, she is finally up to the next shoe size after being a size 8 for 2 years practically. So needless to say, the clothes and sizes they were in this summer are quickly becoming too small. Despite the summer sales, these children are not getting bigger sizes in summer clothes at the end of September! It's time for jeans and sweatshirts, they have that sitting in their drawers ready, now come on with it!
I want to sip soup, drink apple cider, and eat ginger snaps, and warm weather is just not conducive to this. I cannot accept that we are still sucking on Popsicles.
And the bees! The BEES! They are going crazy. They are everywhere, they are confused, it's just not right. The queen bees are like, 'should we go in the mud, no wait, it's warm, no wait, look at that ladies calendar, into the mud, no wait...' Not only that, my darling son was attacked by a swarm of them. He had no less then 6 stings on his body. It was a catastrophe. I mean, now I know, he isn't allergic, could you just imagine? But the trauma of it happening, I think I was screaming louder than he was, like he was being torn apart by a grizzly bear.
So is this Indian Summer, Global Warming, or just some freak of nature?

Indian Summer: an informal expression given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn in the northern hemisphere, typically in late October or early November, after the leaves have turned but before the first snowfall.

It is not used in any sort of legal or formal communication or documentation.

So it clearly isn't that based upon the date today. Moving on...

Global Warming: the increase in the average temperature of the Earth's near-surface air and oceans since the mid-20th century and its projected continuation. Global surface temperature increased 0.74 ± 0.18 °C (1.33 ± 0.32 °F) during the last century.

Clearly the temperature is warmer. I mean really it is. I don't know what the big hype against global warming is. Why do people get so defensive about it like it can't be a possibility? We are big FAT polluters, to think that this would not have a direct effect on the earth is just silly to me. Is is so hard for you to 'reduce, reuse, and recycle?' I think because Al Gore is behind it, and not lets say Rush Limbaugh, has an effect on this as well. I'm just sayin'.

Freak of Nature: A thing or occurrence that is markedly unusual or irregular.

To avoid debate and controversy, because I don't want all you Rush supporters up my crack, we will just go with the later, this weather being a freak of nature.

I might not like the weather, but I do love this new photo experience I am having thanks to my blogger friend, CJane. You can get up on that too at, this site. 'I give props to those who deserve it...' name that song, get a high five.

So I tell you what, if I am not in a sweater by next week and eating an apple I picked from a tree, I might just lose it.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Walk this Way

So the back story of this story is that my Mom Mom was an avid hiker of the Appalachian Trail. She hiked mostly with her sister on some day trips, some over night trips, some days in a row trips, so on and so forth. Some people made guest appearances to hike with them, I did maybe like two or three times, never over night, and never unless the conditions were perfect. My Mom Mom and aunt didn't just decide to walk from beginning to end non stop like some people do, no one would let them do that. I definitely think they could have done it and wrote a best seller about it, but it's better off that they come home in between hikes. I mean deciding to start this hiking business in their 60's, it's only fair to us that they do it in increments.

Sometimes I think, that it would be cool to go from start to finish and hike the whole trail and not stop until I was done. And then I remember I do not like blisters, bruised toes, sleeping in the wilderness for more than 2 nights, and carrying my belongings on my back. So I really probably shouldn't go. I think I would get through the first day, and be like, 'hey at least I tried.'

Close to a month ago, my grandparents and my mom decided that they were going to take a trip to Maine so that my Mom Mom could hike Mount Katahdin. My grandfather was going along for the drive because he likes to take road trips. And no, not so much for the scenery and the excitement that it entails, but primarily for the car. No kidding. He likes to watch the gas mileage, the speed, the sound of the engine, and keep track of it all. My Pop Pop is one of those people who listens to car races on television with the volume up as high as it can go so that he can hear the engines of the cars. Their newest car had not been on a road trip, and so it was either this trip to Maine or Detroit. I don't know, don't ask me, something about the Ford plant, a museum.

So my mom says that she will go with her to do this hike. My Mom Mom is now 72 years old. It is not highly recommended that she do this alone. It's not highly recommended that she do this at all, but that is my grandmother, and she was not going to Detroit. I get a call the first day of the trip, about 45 minutes into their travel with them already needing directions, they somehow got off track 15 minutes from home. This my friends is when I should have stepped in and said, 'alright guys, turn it around, this is not looking so good.' But I don't, and they made it up there safe and sound. My Pop Pop was staying back at the cabin during the hiking, visiting in the small town of Millinocket, and just reading and relaxing. One afternoon he calls me and leaves me a message while my Mom and Mom Mom are hiking just to let me to know that there was no tv, the phones didn't have service, and the radio didn't work, he felt like he had gone back in time. Horrors. I got little check ins like this a few times and so on Friday morning he called a few times and didn't leave a message, I delayed getting back to him until mid morning when the kids were settling for some quiet time. I just thought he wanted to tell me that he found Elvis or something. So I just called and left him a message to call me back whenever.

An hour or so after I left that message Andy calls me and asked if I had spoken to anyone. Well I had talked to my friend Chrisy, my neighbor Steph, and I rattle this off, and he says, 'no from your family.' Nope, just a phone call, but no message from Pop Pop. Apparently, Mom Mom had fallen on the top of the mountain and she was in the hospital up there.

The story then developed into the following. They had left that morning early to do the hike to the top of the mountain. Pop Pop had dropped them off and was going to meet them back there that evening. Another reason Pop Pop needed to go, they needed a chauffeur, hey at least they are up front. The girls had made it to the top and were on their way back down at about 3 in the afternoon. It had been a difficult trip up with a lot of rock climbing, and walking over and around boulders, the path wasn't very even, it was ridden with rocks that you had to pay close attention to. So all of this had exhausted them. They were walking along the tops of boulders on their descent, my Mom in the front. A little hiking knowledge for you; when you are walking across the tops of boulders to get to yet another boulder, it is imperative that you do not look up while in motion. Your balance is easily taken away from you. My Mom Mom said she did just that. She looked to see where my mom was in mid step, and lost her balance. My Mom's intial thought was that Mom Mom was going to smack her head into a boulder, but Mom Mom managed to turn her body which led to her leg being slammed into the side of a boulder instead.

It was incredibly windy and cold on the top of the mountain, and after assessing the situation, my mom knew that she had to get Mom Mom off the top, at the very least.

Let me just interrupt right here and state that most people in this situation would just scream at the top of their lungs, panic, and then curl up in the fetal position with their thumb in their mouth, begging for someone to come and rescue them. But then again, if you are going to hike to the top of the mountain, if you are a hiker at all, then you know you have to be like the Boy Scouts and 'Be Prepared.' My instincts would be to refer back to the show Survivorman, and going through the recesses of my mind for an episode about a woman breaking her leg on top of a mountain, and no one but you around to help. I don't think there was one. So I would have been at the top of the mountain screaming with my fist in the air, 'Dang you Survivorman, how am I going to get out of this mess!?!?!'

My Mom Mom managed to get up with the help of my Mom and managed to walk back down into tree level. They actually walked from about 4:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. before she could not take another step and they knew they had to settle in for the night. In all this time, they passed no one, not one other hiker. Again an indication of the mild insanity surrounding the trip.

Meanwhile, my grandfather had alerted the rangers, and they informed him that once nightfall hit they would not be going to search. It was too dangerous for them, and they were sure they were fine, just got delayed on the mountain. Can someone tell me then what is the point of the rangers then? I mean really. A 72 year old woman and her daughter up on a trail, supposed to be back by 5 or so in the evening. They did not just decide to pitch a tent and enjoy the night because the mountain was just that beautiful. So my grandfather walked into the trail about a mile or so a few times, calling their names, to no avail. So he decided to just stay in the car at the bottom of the mountain until he saw them, or until it was light and the rangers weren't in danger so they could go on up there.

It was in the 30's temperature wise over night, but they survived it. I don't know where all the wild animals are, the only thing my mom saw was a mouse. Which I would have flipped out about anyway. In the morning, my mom decided to leave my Mom Mom, and hike the rest of the way down to get help.

She met up with my Pop Pop and the rangers and told them about Mom Mom and where she was. They went up there to get her, and let me just give a big props to the guy who decided to tell my Mom Mom that her leg was not broken that it was just badly sprained and then when she had to go to the bathroom set her down on some moss to just go ahead and do that. They immobilized her leg and then had her lean on them to walk down the rest of the mountain. When she could absolutely not go any further they took turn giving her piggy back rides. I don't know, do they not use stretchers in Maine? At the very least, they got her down.
They got her across this narrow bridge that sits over rock crevices, and they got her to the car to go to the hospital. I suppose you don't need an ambulance when you are stuck on a mountain for just one night with just a sprained knee. I mean you must have to be missing for 3 days and have limbs missing.

Needless to say my Mom Mom broke her left leg. So take that you rescue man who made her walk. Her tibia, right up by the knee.Kendall likes to call it her shinia, or her tinia, or whatever 'inia,' she can think of. They stayed up there for two more nights to recover from the exhaustion and then headed back. Two weeks ago Mom Mom had surgery on her leg, she now has a plate in her leg with borrowed bone fragments from cadavers. Thanks for the donation. Mom Mom is to be out of commission for 8 weeks. That means in this brace, minimal movement besides therapy for 8 weeks. Mom Mom told Kendall that she will be better by Halloween. And that is what the two of them are focused on. I suppose on Halloween Mom Mom will be able to dance a jig and go trick or treating, according to them. I say the New Year we will have Mom Mom back.

If anything she is a resilient woman, with a lot of determination. Did you have any doubts? She was going to hike to the top of that mountain, come what may, and it did. And she is going to be better by Halloween, she told Kendall this, and this is what is going to happen! She is bored as all get out. So if you have any recommendations, by all means.

And you want to know what I think? I think she will get out there on that trail again. She has had wild boars chase her on the trail, was in an accident that totaled my aunt's car while on a hiking trip for the trail, has broken her leg on the trail, there is still much to do. Question is, who is going with her?

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

This one's a keeper

So we have decided that Stanley can have a room and free roam at this place. Well not exactly a room, perhaps a corner of a bed, or my entire half on some nights to which I am then clinging on to the side of my king mattress so that I do not fall off. I think that maternally in my sleep induced coma, my mind thinks he is a child and it tells my body to move over so that I do not smother. None the less. I would love for Stanley to sleep with Kendall. However. Most nights before bedtime we all snuggle in our bed. And so Stanley is included in this ritual, or we watch him race around the perimeter of the bed yelping and trying to jump up.

By the time it is bedtime Stanley is dead asleep and snoring, and I mean snoring away to his heart's content. I repeat his name a few times, most times he doesn't even move, occasionally he will lift his head, look at me, and then plop it right back down. Then I think to myself, as he attempts to burrow in my blankets, it's better for me to endure this then Kendall, he would wake her up too, and have you ever seen Kendall when she is lacking sleep? It's worse then a horror movie, it's worse then the child's head who is spinning around and her eyes are red and her hair is all over the place. It's worse then that. I promise you.

We have adjusted to life with a dog. And I tell you, this dog is spoiled. No, no, he is. I think part of me feels bad for him because he had to leave his family. Well I suppose he didn't have to, but it was an ideal situation for all parties involved. So I feel this sense that I need to make it up to him. That is specifically why I am not a good candidate for human adoption. A dog is one thing.

So on most days Stanley comes with us. Well not to the store or the library or something like that, I don't pretend he is a seeing eye dog, of course. But if we are going to the farm or my parents, he is included. He already races around the house at top speed like he won a lifetime supply of bacon if I even ask him if he wants to go to the farm. No, now don't go thinking I give him bacon. I don't, get off my back. But to him and his little legs it is acres and acres of sweet freedom, with lots of cats to harass, lots of holes in the grass to stick his head into, and lots of friends to make.

And Stanley is a good dog. You can tell he is a tightly trained soldier, thanks Trip. Because pugs have the reputation of being crazy kooks. I think there are a few wires up there that aren't connected, and it is the humans job to rewire. Stanley of course, has selective hearing, but if you persist, and just as Cesar, the dog whisperer says, show the dog he is not the master, then things will work out splendidly. Not that I watch the dog whisperer, I think he was on Oprah once, and you know me and Oprah. Tight. Like I started at 45 times repeating, 'Sit Down Stanley,' before he would sit. Now we are down to like 25 or so. It's progress. He is excellent with the kids, and loves being around them, so we are happy with him, and my ocd is on overdrive thanks to his little white hairs. We have it under control, I am thinking about a central vac, how easy would that be?

So where did Stanley come from? He came from friends of ours from college. Andy used to play soccer with Trip, and Jess and Trip were dating, and then married. I mean we were at their wedding. Did you know they tore down that place Jess? Our home is right around the corner from there. Anyway. Trip and Jess went on to own Charles, an english bulldog, whom I absolutely adored when getting to visit with them and race around the house with him, and get Trip all agitated for winding his dog up. So Trip and Jess went on to have 4 little girls. Not all at one time of course, but 4 little girls that are the mirror images of their mother. So cute. Now Trip, Jess, and the girls, have plans to plant a church out in California. Could you imagine? Packing up your entire lives, 4 little girls and two dogs, and moving clear across the country? In order to make it a little easier, they need to find a home for one of the dog, and two of the girls. Kidding. They just thought it would be easier to do this entire thing without Stanley. He is young, clearly adaptable, and he was the low man on the totem pole. Again, kidding. It was a vote, he lost, the tribe spoke. I mean really, everyone knows Charles pulls rank.

Really though, they looked for a home with kids, a place that wouldn't shake him up too much. Andy replied to some comment Jess made on Facebook, and the next thing you know, Stanley is here.
He has really been on me to get on here and blog to the girls, most especially Victoria, his dear pal, and so without further ado. Hold on I have to go find him, he just chased Lily up the stairs again, I am sure they are under a bed again having a staring contest.

To my dear sweet friend Victoria...and all the other curly headed girls...

Hi everyone!

I am able to sit a write a brief little diddy on here to you. So excited to be able to blog, many of the new things I am doing here at my new home.

I miss all of you! Does Charles miss me? Tell the old man I said hello. There is no one else here who snorts like me as good old Charles did. Well, the man of the house here and I have snoring competitions each night, but that's different.

One thing I get to have here is small bites to eat from Eukanuba. Can you believe it? My jaw isn't so sore anymore. It's fabulous. And get this, I got to go to the store with them to pick it up. Can you imagine me? In a store? I did it, what an adventure.

This house is just as loud as yours, and so I fit in here just fine.

I also have been spending a lot of time at this family's grandparents farm. Let me tell you about that. It is so much fun, I race around that property like I am a deer in a meadow, or there is a bee up my bottom. It is so much fun. The cats there of course do not like me at all, but that is ok. I think they might be jealous.

Because Melissa says I smell like a dog, I got a bath the other night. I taught her. She might as well have just gotten in there with me, she was soaked.

I think I am growing on Lily. Her food bowl was moved next to mine, and she doesn't spend as much time on high surfaces as she used to. Sure she hisses at me and will swat once in awhile, but I am starting to think that it is because she secretly loves me.

I hope that we can come to visit you sometime. This family is just as busy as yours and so they are always on the go, most of the time I go with them. Sticking my head out the window while driving is one of my most favorite things to do. So as their schedule calms down, I know a visit there is on the top of the list.

How is school? Are you doing well? Don't pick your nose in the classroom ok? That would just look silly.

Well I need to go and ring the bells I just ate, you know what that means.

I hope you all are doing really well. I know I am, I have even made a few friends.

Love, Stanley

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Anyone have some Salsa?

So I am upstairs straightening up, the children and Stanley are downstairs playing in the playroom, ah good morning.

Kendall yells up, 'Hey Mommy, we made a sandbox!'
I reply, 'That's Awesome!'
They are using their imagination splendidly and are pretending they are in a sandbox of course.
A few minutes go by.
Ethan yells up, 'Mommy, Stanwey eatin sandbox!'
Alarms sounding.
I run downstairs.
Turns out a bag of tortilla chips that was left downstairs has been crunched up by tiny feet to resemble sand. Even more awesome.

Stanley got a morning treat out of it.

I raced him upstairs, I don't want tortilla chip poop to clean up and vacuumed it up as the two of them stood watching me, crying their eyes out.

What a mean, mean Mommy I am.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Where are your scissors?

I don't know what Miss Hannigan had against them;
'Someday I'll step on their freckles, Some night I'll straighten their curls'
She was terrible I tell you. No wonder they tried to hide in the laundry to escape her.
I don't know who would put a floozy in charge of an orphanage. All for a storyline I suppose. But don't you love Carol Burnett? I can hear her singing the song in my head.

I grew up with girls. I had only sisters, mostly female cousins, and a slew of aunts. We had boys speckled in there somewhere, I mean they were needed I suppose, it only made sense. My cousin Ryan was specifically the only boy for quite some time on family vacations and he would have to play dress up, be in shows we put on, paint his nails, all to fit in. I am certain that now he would never admit to it. But for a period of time there was 5 girls, 1 boy. Tough times, what was he to do? If anything, Ryan is probably one of the funniest people I know, so I suppose he gained a great sense of humor and outlook on life, because he had to make the best of it. Girls do not play with trucks in dirt when there is 4 other females dangling Barbies in fancy dresses in front of them.

I am fascinated with little girls. I think their imaginations will never be matched. Presently I am blessed with one aspiring actress. I say it now, and then it will never happen, I hope that I am blessed with another. You know how much I love my little man, and how the sun rises and sets on his sweet little dimple, but little girls I get. Ethan always leaves me full of surprises. I have a hard time anticipating what is next. The other day he had all of his matchbox cars in a perfect line, wrapping around living room furniture. I proclaimed, 'there it is, you did it, boys do that, wow, that is really cool E.' I proceeded to get down to his level and started moving the cars through the traffic jam. Apparently you do not do this. Lesson learned. I was quickly pushed aside, yelled some things that I really couldn't make out, huffed and puffed at as he went back to fixing what I had apparently destroyed.

Now with girls I know what to expect next. I know where Kendall is going with her imaginative play, what she wants me to say or do, and where the conversation is going to end up before she even gets there. I know she will be fascinated with make up application, and that if I let her put on some blush she will be as happy as a pig in mud for the entire day and constantly glance at herself in the mirror. I know that she dreams big. I know that she thinks that if she tries hard enough, and stomps her feet loud enough she will get her way.

Little girls are always in search of justice. What is fair, what is unfair, what she has and she doesn't. And the dramatics that ensue are nothing short of academy nominee worthy. Little girls follow with their emotions when it comes to justice, ok, and so do the big girls.

If you do not have a high tolerance for whining, the tossing of oneself on the floor, the moods, the uncontrollable sobbing, then I forewarn you about having a little girl. Study. Kendall is constantly prompted to stop crying by her Daddy when the situation at hand as long been over. She simply replies, 'but I just can't.' And I get it. Sometimes a girl just can't stop crying. We just can't. It is in our genetics to be theatrical.

Kendall has now moved on to the long and drawn out conversations of what happened, when it happened, and what she thought about what happened. Girls are bred to leave out no detail. None. Get comfy. What I love most is the use of hands when the story is coming to a climax and a point is trying to be made, and I also secretly love that she says the word, 'like,' a million times during her 20 minute tirade. Andy is on me constantly, constantly for saying, 'like,' when I am talking. I can't help it, I know it is valley girl talk from 1995, it is just part of me. I will be 90 years old saying, 'and then I was like, what do you mean I don't have anymore depends left, and she was like, I am sorry I will have to run to the store and get you more.' I just passed the lingo on, what's up now, Daddy?

Little girls always want to be older then what they are. Kendall wants to ride the school bus, she wants to go off the diving board at the township pool, she wants put on her own nail polish. When they play they are the Mommy, or the grown up working. Kendall right now tells me she wants to be a hair dresser when she gets older. She is in love with long hair, and is on the life long pursuit for long lucious locks that she can swoosh back and forth and not wear in a ponytail.

Which leads me to my biggest entertainment when it comes to little girls. The cutting of the hair. The taking of the scissors into their tiny hands and cutting their own hair and sometimes a friends too. Because it all goes back to little girls wanting to be bigger, and big girls cut hair, and guess what I can too. Both of my nieces did this. My little cousin Kaitlyn who lives out west decided to 'trim,' her bangs up to her scalp 2 years ago for the first day of school. The outcomes are never ever pretty. It is never a style that you want to copy. But just the same, I find it hilarious. I know, I know what you are thinking, now Kendall is going to cut her hair and I won't be laughing anymore. You are probably right, but I can still find everything up until that point funny, and I give you full permission to laugh at me when it happens. Just don't laugh at her. I never laugh at the little girl, I always compliment the style. I mean she has to deal with a devastated mother, the least I can do for her and her mother is to boost her spirits. You have go to make the most of that. There is no fixing that mess. Hair does grow back, and that my friends is the only good thing about the entire situation.

With all of that in mind I ask you to take a moment of silence for my dear friend Kellie and her daughter Emma's hair.


Ok now that that is over, I will explain quite possibly the worst child produced hair cut in my history of observing them. I am sorry Kellie, but it was. Let me set up the scenario for you as told to me after I examined the photos and called Kellie laughing hysterically. I am certain she really appreciated my sympathy. But I just could not help it. I apologized profusely, but the laughing and the tears could not stop. She forgave me, really she did. She knows I am obnoxious like that.

Darling Emma, Pre Damage. Look at the thick, nicely styled hair. 'Memories, like the corners of my mind'...sing it Barbara, 'Misty colored memories...'

So here we go. Emma was out playing nicely with her friends one lovely afternoon. My friend Kellie was still at work, and Emma and her sister Meghan were home with their Daddy. Isn't that funny? I am not going to go into the irony of that simple statement, all you mom's know. Scott, their Daddy, of course thought they must be playing nicely, it was quiet after all. Out in Kellie's backyard there was a pair of scissors left out. They had been trimming flowers, grass, I don't know, but they were left out. Next door to Scott and Kellie there is a home that has been abandoned due to foreclosure. Tough times, people, tough times, count your blessings. So anyway. This house has a little carport and many of the children like to pretend it is a house so on and so forth. So long story short. An older girl gets a hold of the scissors and decides that she and Emma, and perhaps some others need a haircut. And a haircut it was. Kellie's mom was there at the time Emma returned home and nearly died on the spot. Emma came to the door and I am certain shrieking filled the air. Scott I am certain jumped up like his pants were on fire expecting he would find a bloody mess, but what he saw I am certain was almost as bad at that moment. One might choose 5 to 6 stitches over a massacre to the hair, I'm just sayin.

Now knowing Scott and Kellie, I am certain his instant action was not a result of Emma being upset. She wasn't. But even if she was, I am certain that Scott sprung into action because of only one thing. 1. Fear of the wrath and reaction of his wife. He quickly got Emma together, went to the house of the perpetrator to show what had occurred to her mother, and then whisked her off to get the mess fixed as much as he could before Kellie returned from work. He never called her to let her know what was going on. He will say that he didn't want to upset her. I say, he was trying to clean up the broken vase before she got home, and knew that his attempt to glue to back together would gain him some merit. I love men. So hair was fixed as much as possible. Then he had to wait for her to get home. I am sure he was pacing, nervous, and biting his nails.

Kellie got home, said her hello's, glanced into the living room, was about to ask aloud, 'who is that in the living room with Meghan,' when Emma said, 'Hi Mommy!' Can you imagine!?!? I of course busted out laughing at this part. But at the time, Kellie stated that she needed some time alone and went to her room to mourn. Once she gathered herself she talked with Emma, and Emma seemed fine with the entire thing. We will thank her for not being so concerned about her vanity right now. Thank you Emma, you are a fine, fine girl.

Darling Emma and her sister, a few days after the incident.

Now let me explain the direction of the cut. It started right there in the front at the scalp, and followed around to the side at that same level just past the ear. You can see where they struggled with the thickness of Emma's hair but still were intent on getting the job done.

Here is the thing. Emma is starting Kindergarten. Kellie's present dilemma is whether or not to explain to the teacher what happened. Well she look stupid to the teacher if she states why Emma's hair is so short, like it even matters? Or should she say nothing and risk looking like some terrible mother who cuts little girls hair short? I don't know. I told her to have her wear a tee shirt that says, 'My friend cut my hair.' Actually, it is starting to look so much better then the initial results, proving that hair does grow fast. Oh these school pictures will bring back so many memories for years to come. She is a poster child regarding the issue surrounding little girls and scissors.

Emma now, she is still so cute.

Hide your scissors, I know I do.