My sister's husband has applied for the opportunity to live in Australia for 6 months and work on the Great Barrier Reef. He is one of 34,000 applicants and they are chosen according to votes each participant receives. Would you please go to HERE and give him a quick vote? All you have to do is watch the video and then rate it with the stars on the sides! Thanks!
"One thing that I desire
This will I seek after
To dwell in Your house forevermore
Now I'm running after
The thing that really matters
You've become my joy & song...
I am running, running after You
You've become my soul's delight
I am running, running after You
Here with You I find my life..."
--kari jobe
John Mark has a newfound love of potty candy, so with the typical "be right back, mommy" John Mark made a trip to the potty. After lots of running water, splashing and a flush he walked out. Everything appeared normal, so I didn't pay much attention to the potty situation...
A little later, I glanced over to see John Mark standing suspiciously still in the corner of the room. There was a definite poop-face there, but I figured he would do his business, then ask me to change him. This was the conversation that followed:
Lesley- "um, Steph- I think John Mark just pooped on the floor."
Me- "don't be gross, Bird"
Lesley- "no, seriously... he just shook his leg and something fell out"
John Mark- "mommy, I don't have a pull-up... it was wet."
Me- "WHAT?!?!!!"
John Mark- "my pull-up, it was wet so leave it off..."
And there you have it- a typical night in the Rigdon household. Cleaning poop off the living room floor because John Mark failed to mention that he was going command-o.
Yesterday I was home with John Mark and since he has had some crazy hair going on, I decided that I would take him to get his hair cut. This wasn't the first time and he had done great the other times we had taken him. This time... not so much. Here is our story:
My friend Lesley told me that if you go to the hair school you get a cheaper, but still great haircut. I called to find out if they cut kids hair and they said yes, so I figured that there wasn't really any way they could mess up John Mark's hair and since it would save a few bucks, it was worth a shot. Those poor girls never saw us coming...
We get there and suddenly the idea of a haircut isn’t quite so exciting. He decides he doesn’t want to sit on the booster seat, just my lap. So they put capes on us both and we’re doing good... While he's still not thrilled, they gave him a cookie so at least he is occupied. And then, well, disaster struck. The lady nicks his neck.
He FREAKS out (understandably so) and is screaming- climbing up me, rubbing snot all over me and the cape, drooling cookie and really letting them know what he thinks about this whole experience. At this point he is so past DONE, it's not even funny. We have also entered the realm of no longer upset about getting hurt to just plain throwing a fit.
We go outside and have a nice, friendly chat about how we act in public and call Micah to see if maybe that will calm the poor kid down enough to at least get rid of the funky, lopsided bowl cut we have going on. Micah tells him that if he will go inside and finish the haircut we can come to the office and go get ice cream. This seems to do the trick and we enter the salon for take two.
This might be a good time to point out we’ve been there for an HOUR.
We walk back in, sit down in the chair and he seems to be okay. Then lady #3 (we've scared the first 2 off by this point) touches his hair. And the downward spiral begins yet again. Snot and tears are flying, my arms are basically numb from holding him down and we STILL have a bowl cut.
By now, I've moved past feeling sorry for him, past being annoyed and embarrassed... ladies and gents, we're entering Red Stephanie (just keepin' it real). So we go outside one more time and I tell him- this is the deal: you either go back inside, sit still, finish your haircut and go get ice cream with mommy and daddy, or we’ll go home and you will go straight to bed and take a night night.
He whimpers a little says he wants the haircut... no, the night-night... no, haircut... we finally settle on going home and walk back in the pay. Then he changes his mind and freaks out (this is meltdown #4) that he WANTS a haircut. I tell him (I know this goes against all parenting principles, by the way, but the boy looked CRAZY and I really wanted to get his hair finished) that I will NOT carry him back in there. If he wants his haircut he has to walk in there himself and sit down in the chair.
For some reason, this works. He marches back into the room, picks the chair he wants to sit in and then asks nicely to sit in my lap. We're covered in hair already, so we completely forgo the capes and I tell the poor girl (#4) to just get it done. She thinks quick and hands him her spray bottle to "squirt mommy". This is entertaining and he thinks it's funny and I give her the look that screams "do it now!"
So finally, two hours later, we limp out of the salon. Those girls certainly got their lesson for the day. They also got a tip big enough to make my total what it would have been if I had just gone to the original salon to begin with.
I found this super cool website that takes the words on your blog and creates a picture from some of them. Here is my creation!
This was the conversation we had last night after seeing someone on TV named Stephanie...
JM: "She's not snephanie... mommy, you're snephanie..."
Me: "That's right John Mark. Do you know who daddy is?"
JM: "um... Micah."
See... genius.
I might tell you that I am in love with cracked pepper triscuits...
I might tell you that both of my boys are home sick with a stomach bug...
I might tell you that I wish my sister didn't live halfway around the world...
I might tell you that Brittany Lusey is my mini-me...
I might tell you that I consider my boss a hero and dear friend...
I might tell you that I can't get enough of The Biggest Loser...
I might tell you that I totally stole this post idea from a blog I stalk...
I might tell you that I am praying to cultivate a quiet, gentle spirit...
I might tell you that I have a slight blog-stalking problem...
I might tell you that my hands are freezing right now...
I might tell you that John Mark was mad we couldn't find horton tonight...
I might tell you that Micah is as obsessed with Lost as I am with reality TV...
I might tell you that everyday I become more like my mom- and I love it...
I might tell you that Kelly challenges me in every walk of my life...
I might tell you that texting is a serious addiction of mine...
I might tell you that I love Target a little too much...
I might tell you that Jamie & Natalie are my kindred spirits...
I might tell you that some of my sweetest friends are students...
I might tell you that I wish I could wear sweatpants everywhere I go...
I might tell you that meeting Lesley Clark has changed my life...
I might tell you that I cried in Marley & Me- even though I hate dogs...
I might tell you that I'm now going to bed... good night!
