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Nothing good happened that day. And I didn't look pretty.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

I fell asleep last night about 9:00 propped up against Fireman Dave on the couch.  Then I woke up with him leaning over looking in my face... I probably snored and distracted him from his movie or something.

Then Kid 3 got home from his middle school Valentine dance and sat by me on the couch and cried because his teeth hurt from getting his braces on earlier in the day.  So I got up and cooked scrambled eggs so he could choose to chew or not, but still have food.  Y'all... that's love.  And that's what this post is all about.

My week went along like this....

Last Saturday I actually took that burlesque dance class I told you about.  And oh my gosh it was so much fun.  I went in a little nervous because Fireman Dave was all confused about the concept and told me I would have to learn to twirl pasties and be mostly naked the entire time .... but he was obviously clueless and very wrong.  Burlesque is a beautiful, artful form of dance.  It's about suggestion and movement, but nothing more.  And it teaches you how to walk pretty.  


So I went, wearing my regular workout clothes and here's how I got to dress up as I learned to take off gloves in pretty ways, and of course, 17 tricks with a boa that every girl should know.

It was a fun afternoon.  Until it wasn't - because then I went to a hair appointment that turned my life upside down for about two days.  Did you see me?  Were you one of those people who looked at me and wanted to say something but then thought better of it and looked away like your eyes just got burned?  

The next morning in church Kid 2 whispered in my ear that my hair was orange in the lights of the sanctuary, and I knew right then that I had been the victim of a terrible hair crime.  And trust me on this... no matter what you have been told, prayer does not fix everything. 

Turns out that old saying about checking the mood of your hair dresser before you let her touch your head is 100% true.  My stylist seemed to be fine - but maybe a little distracted telling me about a party invitation she received and how she was rushing out of there after we got done to get a manicure and shop for a dress.  Which.... right there.... should've been a big warning sign that I should've run away and fast. 

Anyway, she fixed me -  but I had to walk around like Little Orphan Annie for two whole days that made me wish mirrors had never been invented.  Thank you to all the people who kept quiet about it.   Y'all, that's love in action.  Because love doesn't say hurtful things.  Sometimes it says necessary things, but never hurtful.  And sometimes love just stays quietly supportive and stays with you even in the times when you're afraid it won't. 

Then it was picture day, like back in school.  Because I got an email asking me to send a professional  photo and bio for my new gig on the Dallas Moms Blog.  So I contacted a fireman friend who does photography on the side... and the price was right because his specialty is actually boudoir photos.  But since I planned to keep all my clothes on, I got a good deal.   Mistake #1.  Boudoir photos at least give you dim lighting. 

And then I listened to a friend who is in the fashion biz who told me I HAD to get my hair and makeup professionally done for the picture -  so I did and it cost me a million dollars to come out looking like a $2 hooker.  With big Texas hair.  Mistake #2. 

So picture day came and went - and then I cried myself to sleep.  Short version of the story.... nothing good happened that day.  And I didn't look pretty. 

And of course I had to say something - because, well, I'm Kristi... and I always have to say something.  So I sent the photographer an email to tell him that all the photos made me look like *#@# and to delete them or I would hunt him down and kill him.  Or something like that. 


I also attached this recent photo of me and Fireman Dave and told him I didn't want to leave a friend of my husband's thinking he married an ugly woman.  

And God bless him,.... Fireman Dave, though he looked at the scary photos even when I asked him not to, loved me anyway.  And he didn't try to talk me out of crying and feeling bad about it all.  And he didn't tell me how much money I wasted on the whole thing.  He didn't  do much of anything other than listen and occasionally pat my back as I hid under the covers.   That's love.  Because love supports through the happy and the hurt.  And sometimes love even keeps loving even when it looks like a working girl with big hair.  

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day - the day we really don't do much with around here.  You already know my theory on that one.... love and be loved every day of the year, please, not just February 14th.   To me, love looks like so much more than flowers and candy.  

This week it looked like Kid 2 cooking dinner for us twice because I didn't have enough hands to do it all.  And it looked like Kid 1 crawling into bed with me one night and listening to me tell him stories of when he was little.  And it looked like me and husband sitting on the front porch on a beautifully warm day watching the world go by ......  And a sleepy mom cooking scrambled eggs for a tired and hungry Kid 3.  


And love was picture perfect when I found this little girl on the couch and didn't ask her to move.  And this weekend it looked like yet another sleepover that took over the entire house;  and it was sweeter than all the candy in the world when a tired Fireman Dave worked multiple off duty jobs to support the family.   

Y'all, I've had a lifetime of love lessons.  Some better than others, but that's how love goes.  It feels both presence and loss.  It wants and it cares and it gives.  It helps and it shares.  It comforts and protects.  It holds and listens and tries to understand, even though sometimes it never will.  And love has the beautiful ability to look past what the eyes see,  and put it's attention on the things that really matter.

And sometimes love is just the comfort of falling asleep together on the couch.  I think that's the best kind.    

post script... I ran around like crazy the rest of the week  - like usual I guess -  I even went to sewing class the evening of the photos... because I had it scheduled for a while and would lose my class fee if I cancelled.  And I'm proud to say that I think I won the award for most makeup worn in Intro to Sewing class in the history of ever.   

post post script...I ended up taking the blog photo myself in my driveway by balancing the camera on top of a pyramid made of two lawn chairs, my laundry room step stool, and a paper plate to give it the right angle.  Job well done, thank you very much.  Now no one ever ask me for a photo again please.     

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