Voila! My Beehive hair! Yes, that is my real hair, braided together with yellow yarn, adorned with bees and butterflies and all sorts of creatures. It was fun! Can’t take credit for the idea, though- I got it from Kage’s post in Tales– which linked to Martha Stewart’s website. What can I say? The woman has mad ideas. Or at least she pays well the people who do.

The boys are super-wild ninja wolverine creatures, and Abby is a bee girl. We are now officially the M’s house of Sugar Insanity and Mayhem. Heaven help us all!

Have a fun (and reasonably safe) night, everyone!

I wish you could have seen how darling Beanie looked for our Primary program today! He marched right up the podium and held his picture high over his head, Norma-Rae style, and just grinned out at all the people. He didn’t say anything, just smiled and smiled and smiled. Then waved at me and said “Hi Mom!” It was pretty dang cute.

Jeffrey actually spoke during church today, too! It’s been his habit to crawl under the podium as soon as he gets up there and sees all the eyeballs, but not today- he did wonderfully, and is now filled with the confidence of a boy who had conquered a personal dragon.

It’s been a friendly week at the M’s. Busy. Hectic, but friendly. Monday was watching kids for friends. On Tuesday, Mo came over and showed me how to actually use the piles of make-up I’ve accumulated over the years- and she’s good, people, just for the record. She made me look pretty! Friday we had friends over for dinner, Saturday was soccer day, and Sunday we went to some other friends’ house for lunch after church. Busy.

Abby has suddenly morphed from my sweet, cute, mild-mannered baby-girl into a mountain climber. Nothing is safe. She scales the bookshelves, the chairs, moves furniture to get what she want, and positively loooooooves the computer. The other day I caught her on my desk- she had seventeen different windows open- pleased as punch. I also caught her on the dining room table, swinging the chandelier back and forth, but we won’t talk about that. She’s wearing me out!

Dude! Pumpkins were eight bucks a piece at Safeway this week!!  I’m glad we have a u-pick place- three monster squash, six bucks. That’s all I’ve go to say about that.

I’m about ready to ask Jeffrey be moved to another teacher. Anyone have any experience with that? While I don’t want my kid pegged as a son of a troublemaker, I’m less and less pleased by his milquetoast of a teacher.

The Red Sox just swept the World Series! Go Sox… although, I have to admit, I’m not as verklempt as I was last time.

Jeff scored six goals at his soccer match on Saturday. Beanie huddled in my lap to try and stay warm, while Abby pulled her socks and shoes off, and kept insisting on running onto the field.

On my mantle is a small framed antique embroidery that says: Contentment is not the fulfillment of what you want, but the realization of what you already have.

When I was a younger woman, I wanted so desperately to be smaller. I wanted tiny cute feet that fit in normal shoes, ladylike hands, manicured nails and a poised demeanor. Fact: that’s not me- and each time I’ve tried on the that shoe, it has  pinched so badly it figuratively flew of my foot and shattered a window across the room. Not doing it anymore. I’m going to sing a song of praise, I’m going to stop buying into anyone else’s notion of what it means to be a woman, and embrace myself.

I’m overweight. Always have been. The fact is, being overweight is what helped me deliver three healthy babies while losing 20 pounds each time because of hyper-emesis. If I had been skinny, who knows what would have happened to my babies.

My feet are big. Like, size 12 big. Yeah, not kidding. My hands are big. My toes are freakishly long. The fact is, these big hands make beautiful things, calm babies, cool fevered brows and paint anything my mind imagines. My enormous feet look right on my body, and they move me through the world. My toes look just lovely with shiny red polish. My German roots are showing, and I love them.

My hair is insane. I feel so unkempt most of the time, because of the nest of curls. When I want to feel sleek and put together, I iron the crap out of it. But it always reverts back. It gets complimented and noticed more than anything about my appearance, and I’ve never seen anyone with hair just like mine. While the craziness bugs me, I also know it can be startlingly pretty; it’s one of my vanities.

So there it is. The things I’m most self-conscious about. The things that used to make me feel like a bull in a china shop, but now are just part of who I am. One of the best things about getting a little older, getting a few more years under your belt, is a certainty of who you are. A calmness and confidence in what you do- and how you do it.

Contentment is the realization of how much you already have.