Babies don't keep

"Mother, O' Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.

Hang out the washing, make up the bed,

Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,

Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,

And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo.

But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?

Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

If I were...

If I was a pasta, I'd be bow tie pasta.
If I was a cupcake, I'd be funfetti or lemon... or a mixture: funfetti lemon! (Selah'd be a Key lime cupcake. Right, Mel?)
If I were a band, I'd most likely be Nellie McKay. A little random.
If I had a hammer, I'd know how to use it. And if T had a hammer, he'd use it to pull up weeds.
If I were a dancer, it would be hilarious. I am NOT coordinated enough to dance. ever.
If I had a dog, I would love it and hug it and dress it up in pretty dresses. Done, done, done and done.
If I were a movie, I'd have an awesome ending where the underdog wins and they all live happily ever after.
If I had wings, I would have to buy new shirts.
If I were to meet you on the street, there would probably be some awkward moments, followed by joy and laughter, followed by more awkward moments as I fight staying with you and continuing on my way.

And that's where I am now. Struggling between writing more nonsense and bidding you adieu. Awkwarddddddddd. 

So yeah

Oh yeah :)

Why God Made Little Girls

Why God Made Little Girls

"God made the world with its towering trees,
majestic mountains and restless seas,
then paused and said, ‘It needs one more thing.’
Someone to laugh and dance and sing,
to walk in the woods and gather flowers,
to commune with nature in quiet hours.
So God made little girls
with laughing eyes and bouncing curls,
with joyful hearts, and beautiful smiles,
enchanting ways and endless fashion styles.
And when He’d completed the task He’d begun,
he was pleased and proud of the job He’d done.
For the world when seen through a little girl’s eyes
greatly resembles paradise."

-Morgan Doe

 

 Found on another blog (Was it yours?)

My sunshine is ONE!

I still find it hard to believe.

Selah loves this video. I hope you do,too!

This is way, way too young

I found the following on Mamamia I think this is so sad. Girls as young as seven thinking they need to be on a diet. Sure, they should be eating healthy (as should we all), but they shouldn't feel the need to document it all. Eating disorder in the making, anyone?

The article:

Help: My daughter is seven. And I found this in her room.

By AMY CHENEY 

I found this today in my daughter’s room. My daughter is seven. It was innocently sitting on the floor amongst the Polly Pockets, friendship bracelets and a variety of other crap seven-year-olds love to hoard.

Diyet. Jesus.
Where did she learn the word diet? How does she even know what a freaking diet is?
Whose fault is this? Is it mine because I let her play with Barbies? Because sometimes she’s allowed to watch Total Drama Action? Is it because when I draw with her I can only draw stick figures?
Seventeen Poosh-ups two times a day.
I felt sick. Physically ill. Like someone had knocked the air from my chest.
I could feel myself getting increasingly anxious the more words I was able to interpret from her seven-year-old spelling.
Three Appals, One Per, Two Keewee Froots.
How did this happen?
I am smart about this stuff. I have a degree in early childhood studies. Our family focuses on and promotes healthy eating and healthy bodies. Our attitudes are reasonable and balanced. Weight has never been an issue in our home – it is, for the most part, irrelevant.
I have never stood before my husband and queried ‘does my arse look big in this’. Ever.

Is media to blame for this?

Rid my bike three time a day.
And then I got angry. Really, really angry.
F*ck you society. F*ck you and your and stupid obsession with women and the way they look.
How dare you sneak into my home with your ridiculous standards and embed them in my little girls head, polluting her innocence with your pathetic ideals.
Jog/run up and down the driv way three times.
Your unrealistic expectations will not win in my house.
I am tired of the beauty and body obsessed arena we live in. I am tired of women being portrayed as objects to be saluted and admired or shunned and shamed depending on whether they measure up to societies idealistic standards. I am tired of the conformist attitudes. And then, because I was so tired (and sad, so sad) that I cried.
When Miss Seven arrived home from school I talked to her about her diet note.
Turns out she learned about diets from one of her seven-year-old friends who was on one.
So together we chatted about diets and beautiful healthy bodies and the gift that they are.
I am not naive. I know this will not be the last time I talk about food and weight and bodies with my daughter. I am just ultra pissed that it had to start when she was seven.