You know, the one wearing an orange headband backwards? 

Could you believe it when she raided her mother’s purse and found a princess pajama top and screamed “Cinder-wella” at the top of her lungs? 

Wow… incredible.  And then she stood up and ripped off her shirt.  Who let’s their kid act like that in public?

And that jammie top… did you see it?!?  It had black Sharpie marker all over it. 

Who’s kid *is* that!?

Sabrina:  “What’s that on your hand?” 

Babycakes: “Oh, no!”

Sabrina then touched the brown mess on my daughter’s hand and rubbed it in between her fingers in an effort to deduce what this substance was.  She thought perhaps it was from the sewing machine?  But this is Babycakes we’re talking about here — it appeared that she had stuck in a thumb and pulled out a plum.  She was sharing the Luv.  It was so nasty that it required a shower. 

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Fast forward to dinner time in which we had just finished eating a healthy plate of turkey tacos, beans, corn, & sliced tomatoes.  As I was clearing dishes, Babycakes came to me with another “Oh, no” and what looked like refried beans on her fingers. 

Me:  “Cakes, what’s on your hand?”

Cakes:  “It’s poop.” 

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The moral of the story is:  if it looks like poop and smells like poop, it may just BE poop.

My mother’s dream came to fruition this past weekend.  For thirty years, she dreamt of a place and a time for women to leave the worries & stress of everyday living behind and relax.  A place where women create, laugh, and rediscover themselves.

Before the women arrived, Camp Ladybug was just a place — three sleeping cabins, an art house, and the Ladybug Cafe.

In the planning stages of Camp Ladybug, the campers were just names and ages on a piece of paper.  What would they look like?  Would they like the meals and activities that we had planned? 

There was nervous excitement when the clock struck three on Thursday afternoon.  Suddenly, names had faces and with that… a kind of magic.  A magic that can not be explained in writing, only experienced through intimate conversation, the sharing of a meal, through paint, song, or in the healing power of a guitar. 

Camp Ladybug… where sisters go to support one another.

A place where “I used to…” picks up a guitar and plays.

Camp Ladybug… a place to escape the stress of chemotherapy.

Where the little girl inside sets aside fear to pick up a paintbrush.

Camp Ladybug… where leukemia & multiple sclerosis can’t win.

A place where bras are optional and the sound of laughter is a gentle cadence.

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The decorations are put away, the cabins empty, and it’s quiet again.  What peace may I find in this silence?  The peace of knowing that it was real and it was good. 

We left some things behind there… and replaced them with sunshine, strength, tranquility, vibrance, and a promise to ourselves.  Each promise is unique.  Each truth is unique.  And while we all came to camp for different reasons, I believe that we ALL experienced a renewal of spirit.

You are ALL forever in my heart.

 ”Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart.”
– Martin Luther King Jr.

On Sunday, when I returned from camp Little E was talking with me in the kitchen. 

Little E:  “Oh, Aunt Sara.  I see you still got those pimples on your face.”

Me:  “Yes, thank you.  They are, indeed, still there.”

Little E:  “Don’t you *want* to get rid of them??”

Me:  “Well, of course.”

Little E:  “Go upstairs right now and wash your face and put some of that cream on.” 

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Last night, as my self-esteem was healing, Little E asked me if I know about Tarzan. 

Little E:  “Tarzan is a jungle boy.  He swings on vines.  Do you know what vines are?”

Me: “Yes, I know what vines are.”

Little E:  “And when gorillas are angry they beat their bodies like this and ‘Grrrrrrrrr!’.” 

Me:  “Wow.  That’s a loud gorilla.”

Little E:  “I think I’m going to be a gorilla scout.”

Gorilla scout…. as in “Want to buy some gorilla scout cookies?” 

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My dad and I took the little girls out to run errands this morning and while we were visiting the ATM, Little E started another conversation about tummy aches and someone touching the television when they weren’t supposed to.  “And they said, ’stop touching that television’ and then… my sciatica started.” 

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She is currently in the bathroom, asking for help with her swimming suit which has apparently attacked her.  My dad just went to help her and she yelped, “No one ever gives me privacy!  My boobies are out, ya know!” 

Therefore, I needed to wash clothes & get packing.  This is what happened when someone wasn’t actively engaged:

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One hour later, I brought the flying squirrel with me into the bathroom so that I could take the world’s fastest shower. 

It cost me $12.

First, she broke the scale.  Then it got very, very quiet.  One moment later, as I was drying myself off I realized that she had taken the backs off an entire box of panty liners. 

She declared, “It’sss *not* a sticker?  Sticker?”

“You’re right.  It’s not a sticker.  Those are Mommy’s.”

And with that, she stuck one on my leg & one on her knee and began walking like a penguin. 

Don’t you love those vague little emails you get once a week describing your child’s development?  Baby Center says that my daughter is a revved up ball of energy with the ability to keep going & going.  Yes, well partner that with the ability to open the fridge, climb the pantry shelves, & help herself to my checkbook and you’ve got one precocious toddler. 

Opening the fridge & sifting through it’s contents has become a new passion for Miss ’Cakes.  Chocolate syrup, sticks of butter, containers of salsa — all good things.  She’ll ask for juice and then want to put chocolate syrup in it.  When you finally convince her that it’s yucky, she opts to open the fridge again and this time carry the soy milk to the table.  Then she’ll request a “sssnack” and you’ll once again spend ten minutes convincing her that “butter is a topping, not a food group.”  She’ll settle for an apple but then go to the fridge and want jelly on it.  When you tell her that jelly is for toast, she’ll run to the bread drawer…  you get the idea, right? 

THIS IS MY LIFE. 

EVERY DAY.

Yes, she’s my independent ball of revved up energy.   

Her level of determination is unmatched.  It doesn’t matter how many times you say no, threaten a time-out, or mention that she can get hurt — if she WANTS to do it, good luck stopping her.  For example — see this lovely little doll baby changing table with built in high chairs?  It’s so cute, huh?  Did you know that if you knock out the yellow part that it makes a great pommel horse? 

This toy is now responsible for three near-concussions & multiple tears.  The tears, however, are a direct result of being absolutely pi$$ed off that her mother (how dare she!) took away the toy until someone small can “play with it the right way.”  Then when I say terrible things like that I feel like I’m crushing her little spirit.  But as her mother, it’s also my responsibility to see that she doesn’t crush her little skull in the process of discovery. 

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Today we came home from errand running and Cakes sat at the table finishing her Cheerio snack.  Then she decided that she’d like to help herself to some silverware so she pulled open the drawer and lifted a large serving spoon out.  This spoon is the size of her palm, but she felt it suitable for devouring the little bits of cereal.  When she tired of eating those, she dumped them onto the floor and proceeded to the refrigerator for a proper raid.  She pulled out leftovers from last night and then moved on to two sticks of butter.  Her request for noodles was granted, but the sticks of butter would need to be returned.  Determined, she dropped one stick and then tucked the other stick under her arm as if to run down field to escape an opponent.  Only problem is, she never closed the silverware drawer. 

I don’t know if she blamed me or the butter, but somehow I think she’ll still love us both forever.

Mentally wake up today and REALLY look at places in your life that you know are not resonating with your beautiful soul.  While we can not change people, we CAN change the way we interact with them, changing almost any relationship into something beautiful.  We can make our surrounding more beautiful, neat and organized… without spending any money.

 Just pick ONE thing today to bring into alignment with what you really want out of life. 

So, in the spirit of change I decided that my bedroom really, REALLY needed some help.  I know the letter mentioned “not spending any money” but I was in the mood for some retail therapy yesterday and nothing elevates my mood like a trip to the Habitat Re-store.  With my trusty little side-kick in tow we managed to scoop up some polka dot fabric (my mother is shaking her head in disbelief), three plates to hang on the wall, and two bags of poly-fil.  Redecorating my room will not touch my soul, but if it becomes a sanctuary of peace & tranquility instead of a breeding ground for lonely socks then perhaps it will be worthwhile. 

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One change that I had to make recently is when I can take a shower without any company or someone destroying the bathroom.  I hate getting out of the shower to find that it looks like someone threw a fraternity party — toilet paper all over the place, floor decorated with q-tips, shelves overturned, random objects tossed into the bathtub.  And that’s on the days when I don’t shave.  Hairy legs are also part of my new look. 

This morning we ran all of our errands with my hair a total disaster and luckily, we only ran into 17 people that we know.  By the way, none of them were showered either.  As we were leaving Target, Babycakes tossed a box of L’Oreal into the cart, which got me thinking:  I haven’t changed my hair color (except for the grey) since 10th grade when Jenny Thompson dyed my hair Ronald McDonald orange.  So I bought it.  And I have no idea what I’m doing.  But it’s just color right?  If it gets really bad I could just go G.I. Jane — that’ll get me out of my comfort zone.  Hmm… that would get EVERYONE out of their comfort zone. 

One last thing before I dye…

Have a wonderful weekend!

p.s. What’s one thing you would change?

What the DMV could learn from Disney World

With all that birthday hoopla, a few things managed to sneak up on me:

1. Today is my anniversary.
2. My driver’s license expired 6 days ago.

In a panic, I called the DMV the moment that they opened only to find that it was a 5 HOUR WAIT at the three closest offices.  5 hours?  That’s 300 minutes – 4 times longer than the wait for Space Mountain!  I have two words for the Department of Motor Vehicles:  FAST PASS. 

Since fast pass is not currently an option, I did what anyone would do who was driving around illegally with an expired license on her wedding anniversary:  I drove 52 miles north.  When I called that office and asked about the wait time he said, “May-em, they ain’t nobody here (2 syllables).”   I thought it was worth taking the chance, so I hopped out of my pajamas, threw two curlers in my hair, dressed the babe, and we were out the door!  They handed me ticket #141 just as #140 was called.  Lucky, huh?  As for the picture, they let me smile but there’s really no telling what I looked like seeing that I hadn’t showered.

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While making dinner last night, Coach asked me if we should get a babysitter for our anniversary on Thursday except that our anniversary is today, the 7th.  It’s not that he forgot, it’s just that he spent all of yesterday thinking that it was July 5th.  What to do?

Two telephone calls and three emails later, we have a sitter.  Yay!  A sitter and a dinner date ALONE… TOGETHER.  No crayons, no impromptu food fights, no one to stack the salt & pepper shakes and unload sugar packets into my purse.  Will I even know what to do with myself?  Who will I chase around the restaurant?  And will I even recognize myself without all the food goobers on my shoulder?

This is an occasion for unsensible shoes, a short skirt, and a small purse!  Honey, here I come!

Happy Anniversary, Babe!

I awoke this morning at 4 am, and since I don’t have cows to milk I spent the next couple hours laying in bed feeling guilty about gaining weight.  I thought about Little E touching my little pooch belly.  Then I thought about the conversation at my birthday party.  Our basketball coach’s wife congratulated my Coach about our exciting news.  He hadn’t a clue what she was referring to until she said, “We all heard that Sara’s expecting!”  News to us, but apparently that’s the rumor going around campus.  I think I’ll start wearing a spirit pin indicating that I am NOT currently KNOCKED UP.

I’ll shut up about it now. 

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Coach had the day off yesterday so he decided to surprise Babycakes with a little kiddie pool.  She had a blast in her “smimmin’ pool” and before our coffee was poured this morning she was begging to go outside.  Our water bill is going to be astronomical!