Then, something wild happened around here - she turned seven. Suddenly, she wanted my help picking her clothes and she started asking me to do her hair in intricate designs, like these found here. Sometimes, I warn her that it might hurt and she just shrugs her shoulders with the determination that might someday produce straight teeth, toned legs, and plucked eyebrows. I'm not sure I am ready for that day...
But I am enjoying having a daughter who actually wants me to brush her hair, help her pick her clothes. So, I was pretty proud of Punkin's birthday hairdo. She picked it from here, and I worked hard on it while she played a computer game.
All was well until bedtime when she asked me to take it out... Suddenly, her birthday went South quickly. At first, she tried to occupy herself with a good book, but by the end, she was crying stoic, shoulder-shaking tears of pain. It was twenty minutes of torture. Even Papa had to come help me undo all of the rubberbands. I'm pretty sure any pride I felt at the moment these pictures were captured had completely deflated by the time I made it to the last tangled rubberband. I should have taken a picture of THAT moment, just to keep it real.
Have you noticed that mom-blogs always have pictures of smiling children? I feel rather dishonest about not having more "real" moments of our day. But there is a very natural reason for that - no one grabs a camera when the kids are fighting, dinner is burning, and my husband wants to talk about finances. While I don't know how to capture those moments (and some of you would argue that I don't know how to capture ANY moments with my mad photography skills...), they exist...often.
I'm rejoicing tonight in all of those moments in my day - the ones that are miserable and the ones that are memorable. And I thank you for allowing me to share them in this safe place.
Resting in Him,
Karen
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