Monday, November 18, 2013

Christmas Carol's New Glasses

Today some dumb things happened. When Princess got home, she decided to take the laundry out of the dryer like a good wife. Upon opening the dryer door, she realized that the entire contents of the dryer were a strange reddish hue. Upon investigating the rouge pile, Princess realized she had left a tube of lipstick inside her DIY strawberry sweatshirt. (It should be noted that the matching strawberry hat was previously devoured by her dogs within seconds of it leaving Princess' cranium.) After spending a near 10 minutes calmly spraying all of the contents with stain remover and then washing them again, Princess proceeded into the kitchen where she placed her sunglasses on the counter per usual. She let her dogs out and pet them and reminded them how much she loved them. After unloading the dishwasher and a completing a few other wifely duties, Princess proceeded to the bedroom so she could change for the concert she was attending that night with her mother. When she was finally dressed, wearing the ridiculous combination of a neon yellow blazer, a giant leopard scarf, huge hair, glitter nail polish, and a neon pink purse, Princess saw something in between Uzi's teeth. "What is that you have there, little friend?" Princess asked. Uzi did not answer because he's a dog and is unable to speak. When Princess analyzed the object more closely, she realized it was her sunglasses, a gift from her husband many years ago that probably cost him a pretty penny. The lenses magically disappairated, and the glasses were completely destroyed. They would only work on Princess' face if she looked like the character, Christmas Carol, she invented last year when her face was distorted in an iPhone panoramic disaster. See below. God bless us, every one. 

Princess had to take a few deep breaths and then remind herself of the mantra she has been learning at church in the series entitled "Radical Generosity." "It's not my stuff!" she said herself. "It's not my stuff!"

The logic behind this mantra is to remind us that everything that we own belongs to God. But Princess is a snarky individual, so she corrupted the phrase and decided to turn the tables on God. (Always a mature and effective choice, no?) "God, why did you leave YOUR lipstick in the dryer?!?" Princess fake raged as she shook her fist at the heavens. "God, why did you leave YOUR Ray-Bans on the counter?!" she squealed. "Didn't you know your dumb dog would eat them?" 

God said, "This is unfunny, even for you." 

The end.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

dog songs

Last night our mom and dad took us to Chick-Fil-A, and the drive-thru guy was like THOSE DOGS ARE SO FUNNY YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE THEIR EYES and we said THANKS GIRL then we realized… GIRL WE GOT FLUFFY AGAIN! Wut wut wut wut! And then we were like GIRL GIVE US SOME FRIES and then we were like OOPS YOU’RE NOT A GIRL SO WHY DO WE KEEP SAYING THAT? and he was all “It’s cool,” and Dad was like “stop sniffing my chocolate milkshake,” and Mom was like I WROTE A SONG:

Le de da de de
We are so fluffy
Can’t see anything
Barking at whatever we waaaant
This is our fur
This is our frizz
And it can’t stop…
And it won’t stop…
Can’t you see it’s we under these coats
Can’t you see it’s we behind these fros
Yeah yeah

One time Mom was having a big fat terrible day, and she was all “If I can just get home and eat my Cinnamon Toast Crunch I can successfully evade a nervous breakdown.” Then she got home and saw the cereal box on the floor all big fat empty, and that’s when she realized we had developed opposable thumbs that allowed us to open the brand new box and devour all the insides without making any mess. We thought she’d be proud, but she was flung herself onto the floor all MY LIFE IS RUINED AND I’LL NEVER GET OVER IT and we were like “yikes, drama.” And then she sobbed all the tears and wrote this song:

           They came in like a wrecking ball
           Ate up all the cereal
           All I wanted was to beat my dogs
           Uzi wre-e-ecked me
           Ebbie wre-e-ecked me

Finally we were like LOOK MOM STOP RIPPING OFF OUR GIRL MILEY, K? and she was like YOU PUPS ARE TOO YOUNG TO LISTEN TO MILEY YOU BETTER STOP and we were like WHO DO YOU THINK PLAYS THE RADIO FOR US and she was like “don’t tell Dad.”

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

sequined deer head

Burt looks over his domain with sparkling and majestic authority.

Yesterday Princess and Husband had an argument. Princess had brought home a white sequined deer head and put it on the wall. Husband was like NO NO NO THIS IS TERRIFYING NO NO and Princess was like IT SPARKLES YOU NEED TO BACK OFF.  Husband was all IT DOESN’T MATTER IF IT SPARKLES IF IT HAPPENS TO BE TERRIFYING. So Princess said WHY DO YOU LET ME HAVE ALL THESE CERAMIC HANDS EVERYWHERE AND YET YOU WON’T LET ME HAVE A SPARKLING DEER HEAD? And Husband was like THE CERAMIC HANDS ARE FUNNY. And he’s right. They are.

Then Princess was like YOU HUNT REAL DEER AND GUT OUT THEIR INSIDES AND THIS IS WAY LESS GRUESOME and Husband didn’t have anything to say to that because Princess is totally right. So Princess feigned compromise and said IT REPRESENTS BOTH OF US BECAUSE YOU LIKE TO HUNT DEER AND I LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE and husband said FINE I LIKE GUNS AND YOU LIKE PINK SO LET’S PUT A PINK GUN ON THE WALL and Princess had nothing to say to that because it’s the worst and ugliest idea ever and yet appeals to her sense of logic.

The deer head, which Princess has temporarily named Burt after the Law and Order episode where Cynthia Nixon plays a faux schizophrenic murderer, currently remains on the wall but only because its existence has fallen out of Husband’s goldfish memory until it inexplicably resurfaces when Husband remembers it while he’s mad about something else. Oh, Burt.

There are about five trillion times a month where Princess and Husband look at one another like, “I like you but I am confused why because you are super weird and we have nothing in common.” If Princess and Husband were both on, they would never get paired up ever. If Princess likes a movie, Husband hates it and vice versa, and yet they still both really want to watch a movie together.

It’s called being stuck between a rock and a hard place, otherwise known as a hard place and another hard place or the stupidest saying of all time. And Husband is like STOP OVERTHINKING STUFF and Princess is like WE MUST STOP PERPETUATING IDIOTIC CLICHES and also WAS THIS PHRASE IRONICALLY RESONATING IN THE MIND OF THAT GUY WHO GOT HIS ARM STUCK WHILE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING AS HE SAWED HIS OWN ARM OFF? And Husband is like “I forgot to listen to the stuff you’re saying again.”

And speaking of faux schizophrenic murderers (by the way, it takes great skill to incorporate faux schizophrenic murderers and ceramic hands and sequined deer heads and arm sawing into the same piece of writing), Princess’ blog is kind of schizty, too. (Is that a word? Now it is.) Last time she was really serious and people were really supportive. She’ll probably be deep again, but sometimes she swims in the shallow end of the pool because she’s kind of tired and wants to do the Martha Washington hair thing. Thank you for loving her no matter where in the pool she is located, but please grab her if she’s on the bottom. (Unless she’s having a tea party, in which case, please join.)

Upon reading this post, Husband said, "This is weird."

Monday, November 4, 2013

thunder thighs

Thunder thighs. Cankles. Sausage arms. Muffin top.

These are the kinds of terms that echo in your daughter’s mind, often bringing her to tears, paranoia, or a vague sense that somehow she’s not all that she needs to be. They haunt her when she’s trying on jeans, while she’s out on the lake, when she’s editing her pictures for Instagram, when she wonders why that guy doesn’t like her. She thinks, “I’m not good enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not thin enough.”

Where did she hear it?

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made”—God’s message to her that she never received. I try to tell her, but she doesn’t believe it. She’s already let another message permeate.

Where did she hear it?

“My mom says I need to go to the gym more if I want my homecoming dress to fit,” says one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“My mom says I should stop eating baked potatoes because my legs are getting big,” says another. She’s stunning. If I woke up looking like her, I wouldn’t mind a bit.

One mathematical truth I heard from Christian author Jon Acuff: 

One Insult + 1, 000 Compliments = One Insult

Perhaps it can be taken a step further: 

One Insult From Your Mother + 1,000 Compliments From Everyone Else = One Insult From Your Mother

Sometimes the biggest blow a daughter receives is given from the one who loves her the most.

My mom is a knock-out—bright blue eyes, a former Miss University at Ole Miss (she hates it when we mention that, but whatever), a strong tennis player, and in general just a total babe. I think she’s the most beautiful person I know. I used to look at pictures of her in her prom dresses and think, “WOW. I’m going to be like her.”

In college I gained the Freshman 15 without realizing it. (I’m slow. And also I really like cheeseburgers.) What did my mother say? The same things she always said—comments that affirmed my beauty and value. I remember shopping for a formal dress one day. There were a million times that day when my mom could have subtly told me that I’d gained weight, but she didn’t once take the opportunity. Then we happened upon the greatest dress ever. Cobalt blue, fit like a glove. My mother loved it too, and her shared delight made me feel like a million bucks. Now, years later, when I look at that dress, I feel like a million bucks all over again. Like I said, it’s the best dress ever, even with 15 extra pounds of Caroline inside of it. My mother could have ruined it with one well-intentioned comment, but she didn’t. I need to thank her for that.

When I finally realized I gained the Freshman 15 (again, I’m slow), what did my mother say? “Okay. Well I think you’re beautiful, but I’ll help you lose it if you want.”

The result was that I had an awesome college experience and loved my life despite the fact that I was carrying around an extra 15. And then I got really skinny, had my blue dress taken in, and still had a blast. And why not? My worth does not depend on my thinness. My beauty does not depend on my thinness. I can be happy and content and beautiful and confident without it. That’s what my mother taught me, and I don’t even know if she meant to.

But now I’m realizing that my mother is rare. And most of the young girls I know carry around the comments of a well-intending mother who wants her daughter to look her best. But you already know that your daughter’s best doesn’t come from the size of her prom dress or washboard abs or perfect skin. It comes from somewhere else all together.

1 Peter 3:3-4 says, “Your beauty should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” 

This verse used to stress me out because I’ve never been called gentle, and I’ve certainly never been called quiet. I’m usually described as “excitable” and “loud beyond all reason.” But Peter isn’t speaking about personality (thank goodness)—he’s talking about our spirit. We should reflect from the inside an attitude that is gentle {tender, mild, soft} and quiet {calm, unmoving, free of turmoil}. We should be at rest, content with ourselves as we are. We know women like this—we recognize their beauty and enjoy it. We leave their presence soothed, encouraged, calm. We know women who are the opposite—we recognize their beauty and resent it. We leave their presence tense, insecure, overwhelmed by all that we are not.

Mothers, be the former beauty. Encourage your daughters to rest. Let them be content with themselves. 

Mothers, rest. Rest in the fact that God loves you as are now—not as you are when you’ve spent an hour on the elliptical or when you’ve avoided carbs all day or when you’ve had your hair done. He loves you now. You are beautiful now. You are treasured NOW. You don’t have to keep striving. Rest. You are enough.

We found out a few weeks ago that we’re having a little girl. And even though I’ve never seen her face, I already know she’s beautiful. There’s something precious and profound and marvelous about her already. When she gets here, I’m want to make sure she knows how amazed we are by her—not just because of her bright eyes, sweet smile, or whatever beautiful features she has—but because she was carefully crafted with the hands of a loving God, a God who doesn’t create junk. 

God, make me beautiful in your way—give me a gentle and quiet spirit that encourages my daughter to rest in who she is: fearfully and wonderfully made.