I Can See Your Halo!

We did finally cut Brooks’ hair. But hair does funny things when you cut it and now my angel has an actual halo above his head.

This kid’s hair has been the highlight of so many of my days. I love the way it’s curly after bath time, then beautifully full of body upon rising in the morning. But, somehow, after nap it gains a few new curls. Yes, it bordered on mullet for a while, but, because we are responsible parents, we cut it. We were worried that the curls would disappear, but we are happy to report that his mane bouncier than ever.

Under the Banner of Heaven

Under the Banner of Heaven pretty much blew me away. Ever since we visited the Mormon temple in SLC almost a decade ago, I’ve been awed at how people can actually believe the tenants of this faith. Granted, until I read this book, my primer on Mormonism had been a brief South Park episode, but I still felt satisfied that it was all borderline insanity.

Then I read this.

Not only is everything in that South Park episode doctrinally correct, but droves of people around the world are able to look past the crazy as they convert to this religion every day. Oh, that Joseph Smith was a wily one. Dangerous even.

About the book: I liked that I got to see the span of Mormonism tethered together by an actual event – though a horrific one. Certain points were so creepy that I had to close the book and call it a night, but others were so juicy that I just wanted the entire faith’s visual history right in front of me. While this book does border on anti-faith, it is disturbingly entertaining and readable. In no way was this read a waste of time.

Out of the Mouths of Texan Babes

We celebrated our nation’s independence at home this year for various reasons. Nevertheless, we did dress the part and make it to our neighborhood parade, where Sabra observed like a champ from the stroller and Brooks was able to investigate the ins and outs of a real fire truck, while high on sweets – complete with red and blue frosted facial evidence.

It was so lame that it was kind of a blast, looking back on it now. What we found hilarious, if not sacrilege, about the whole thing is that every single song they played at the celebration praised Texas. You would expect Springsteen’s Born in the USA at a July 4th parade, but not Little Texas’ God Blessed Texas or even Deep in the Heart of Texas. This was not the case at our little neighborhood shindig. Texas is funny like that, but Spencer and I felt at least a tick more patriotic for at least noting the prejudiced playlist.

I say this to provide the soundtrack for my son’s first participation in a national pride event and to set up the giggles that lay ahead for us, his parents. Because, at the end of the day, Brooks gave us our first true, guttural laugh. Spencer and I knelt beside his bed to pray The Lord’s Prayer. We often leave off the last word in songs we sing or books we read because he’s memorized most of them. So, in usual form we said the first part and he helped with the last word.

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth as it is in Texas

We. Died. Laughing.

Spencer and I corrected Texas to Heaven and let our worn out patriot fall asleep, but we laughed the rest of the night. This is what he got out of the first 4th of July he will remember. And we got a laugh we will never forget. Children are so genuine and pure and now I finally understand that saying: out of the mouths of babes. Only this time, the babe got to be mine.

Smocking my Husband

I think the saddest part about Facebook is that it doesn’t leave behind something beautiful. I’m on Facebook, to be sure, but I am examining it and my use of it more and more. I took the app off my phone, which makes it a real pain to upload pics, which in turn makes it a real, real pain to update the web world about what I am doing (mostly with my kids and mostly to let you know how cute they look, while reassuring myself that their adorable outfits aren’t going unnoticed – because at least posting a picture assures yourself that over 100 people saw the darned smocked holiday jumper). But I digress, as the heart of this post isn’t a Facebook rant, but a gentle praise of my husband who would win father of the year, hands-down, every stinkin’ year if it the competition ever materialized.

How could I enter him into this imaginary contest with such confidence, you ask?

Because, first of all, the man is NOT on Facebook, but he constantly does Facebook brag-worthy activities with our kids. He’s just straight up dope. And did I mention that he does this all while performing no-limit soldier duties as a computer genius for the most spoiled company in Austin (do they know how lucky they are to have him?). This is a man who, during his week, with limited physical capabilities, went to Walmart, purchased felt, magnets and a kiddy fishing pole, then came home and pulled out the sewing kit to create the following:

Any dad can take their kid fishing or camping or to the zoo, but how about when no one is watching. When the cameras are tucked away, this is a man who is squatting down next to his children explaining the ins and outs of tents and fishing poles and pausing for five minutes on a page in Winnie the Pooh to breakdown bears and honey and bees. So, yeah, I kind of think he deserves a medal.