Reasons I Love My Husband.

We went to the mall today with the sole mission of spending a gift card I have on some new work clothes. Our mission was partially successful, and after we were done the kids were hungry and thirsty. They wanted pretzels and cheese, so we obliged, and in an odd turn of events we got 1 for free.

We went to sit on some couches to eat, and spied a woman by herself. Her clothes were a touch wacky and she was rocking back and forth on the couch opposite us. I smiled at her, but she didn't seem to see me.

My husband followed me over and saw the woman. Without a second thought, he said to her, "Hey, would you like a pretzel? We have an extra." To my surprise, she said yes.

When we left the mall, I told him I thought that was nice of him, offering this woman all alone a pretzel. And I told him I was surprised she said yes. Though she was clearly dancing to music only she could hear, she had a pile of bags beside her, so I assumed she had money.

"Those were Wal-Mart bags, honey. I just saw her and figured maybe she deserved to have someone give her something without her begging for it or having to work her butt off to get it."

"That was awesome of you, babe. That's why I married you."

"Well, thanks. But I didn't do it for the recognition. I just thought she might need someone to be nice to her."

Clean Bill.

Luca had her first dentist appointment today. I realize the ADA now recommends you start bringing them in as soon as they start growing teeth outside the gums, but I think that is insane. Which is part of the reason we waited so long. The other parts are:

1) She wasn't on our insurance until August and we're cheap
2) I was scared her teeth might be weak like mine and didn't want to face the 'treatment plans'

I need not have worried. She did AMAZING at the dentist, which was no surprise, actually. It's not that she's a perfect kid or anything, it's just that little pleases Luca as much as impressing adults and making them tell her repeatedly how well behaved and awesome she is. They did a set of x-rays, a cleaning, and an exam, and she sat patiently through the whole thing AND got a clean bill of health! So proud of my girl and the teeth she clearly inherited from her daddy!

Say Nice Things: Kid-Friendly Version.

My niece, who we lovingly refer to as 'Birdie' (so nicknamed in utero by Luca) is a spirited girl, and I love her for it. I know it must frustrate her parents sometimes, but when I am around her I just see a girl who is always going to know what she wants and never be afraid to ask for it. And I like that in a little girl, because I think those kinds of little girls, with proper guidance, grow to be self-assured and strong women.

I took the kids to meet up with my sister in law and Birdie this afternoon for an impromptu ice cream cone. We had a few hours to kill and the temps were in the mid-90s, so we sat outside and let the kids run around on the enclosed patio and toss gravel and little sticks around. Birdie was so excited to see her big cousins, and she dove right into playtime, even finding a small pink sample-size spoon and using it to dig in the dirt. We stayed for about an hour, eating ice cream and talking and watching the kids have a blast together.

When it was time to go, Birdie was not thrilled.

We walked to our car on the east side of the building, and they walked to theirs on the north side. The sounds of Birdie's shrieks in protest followed us to our car. I held both kids' hands in mine as we crossed the parking lot, and Luca looked at me and said, "Hey mama? I think Aunt Syd is a really good mommy."

I agreed with her, and smiled to myself as I got both kids strapped into their seats. And as we pulled out, I saw my sister in law and Birdie standing by their car in some sort of battle of the wills. Syd is pregnant with baby #2, and there she was looking a little defeated as she held a stubborn Birdie on her hip and tried to coerce her into the carseat without a fit.

We made a sharp left, pulled up behind her car, and rolled down our windows.

"It may not seem like it now, but I just wanted you to know what Luca told me, Syd. She told me, 'I think Aunt Syd is a really good mommy.'"

The look on her face? The gratitude for the kind words just when they were needed? Priceless.

Sometimes, the littlest among us know best what to say.

Keep It Short.

I needed a change, so I got it.

I lost just over 10 inches of length and gained layers and bangs. This is me shortly after getting it cut by my sister in law. It was wet when she cut it and we didn't dry or style it, so it's hard to see the bangs and layers (but easy to see my natural, uncooperative waves), but I feel refreshed. It was time for a change.

And, for good measure, here's another from after I took a flatiron to the bangs and front pieces.

Say Nice Things - Pregnant People.

"You look so beautiful pregnant. If everyone looked as amazing as you, we'd all want to be pregnant all the time."

Say Nice Things: Potentially Awkward Facebooking.

My husband has a soft spot for kids who struggle in school. It's the real reason he became a high school teacher and the basis on which he decided to coach not one, but two, sports. It's the reason, too, that he's such an effective teacher. He was not a star student himself, so his expectations are that his students will commit to hard work and follow through, not that his students will be the best at everything.

My husband. He's amazing.

But this isn't about him. This is about the piece of paper he brought home with him the other day. I was elbow-deep in finishing up making dinner while trying to keep an eye on two hungry and hyper kids as they dismantled the living room systematically when he walked in about 40 minutes later than expected. I wasn't too shocked since he's currently coaching football and any spouse of a coach could tell you that schedules during the team's season can be unpredictable at best. So when he set down a piece of paper on the counter and asked me for a favor, I believe I mumbled back something to the effect of, "Sure, hon. Can you get the kids set up for dinner, please?"

When I finally had the time to look at the paper, I recognized it immediately as a high school essay. Rather, the terribly written thesis paragraph of a high school essay. His request was simple: look it over and provide some feedback. And when I dug a little deeper I couldn't say no: it was written by a kid whose mom raises him alone and works 2 jobs, so she's never home to read his homework.

Later, he told me he was impressed with how quickly I'd been able to edit and provide feedback. Mind you, I didn't correct the kid's paper for him. What I DID do was give him some prompts to help him clarify his writing and improve his thesis. But the conversation about my ability to do that quickly and help him rewrite his thesis so it at least got a passing grade prompted a discussion about how much I love editing writing. Which, of course, lead to a discussion about how I should have gotten a literature degree. (Add that to the list of about 5 or 6 other things I wish I had the time and money to do with my life.)

Which, in turn, led me to remember one of my favorite teachers, Mr. W. He was my honors English teacher in 8th grade, and he really impacted my life in so many ways. So on a whim, I decided to google him to see if he still teaches.

He does. And he has a Facebook account. You know where this is going, right? (And I confess I lied a bit about the context under which I found him on FB, but only because I didn't want him to think I was e-stalking him.)

Hi Mr. W. You probably don't remember me, but I was a student of yours (You also taught my older brother, X) in year - year. I was going through an old yearbook the other day and reminiscing about your class. I remember my mom telling me a few years ago that you'd written a book, so I decided to look it up and found you on here.

I just wanted to let you know that, almost 20 years later, I still remember and appreciate your class. I've always had a love for writing, and I think classes like yours helped make that love stronger. It's a dream of mine to someday write a book, and it was great teachers like you who gave me the foundation to be able to write and trust my voice. I realize this is a random message to get on Facebook, but I have always believed that rather than just having nice thoughts about a person, one should share them. So, thank you for being an amazing teacher.

I hope you are well.

To date, I haven't heard back from him, but that's ok. What matters is that I wrote it, right?