Seeds

Sniffle.  Sneeze.  Sneeze.  Sneeze. Sneeze.  Sniffle.

I'b got allewgies.

Spring will do that to me.  Workin' outside gets 'em going good.

But seeds must be planted in spring for summer's benefit.

I can't have a bland summer, can I?

Another favorite flower - zinnias.  Bold, vibrant, old fashioned, and a lover of the hot, hot sun that hits my west facing house.

These are show stoppers and conversation starters.  They are truly beautiful.

 

{While I boosted the picture's color to show the intensity of zinnia's gorgeous colors, it turned my house blue.  Nope, I don't have a blue house.  My house is gray with white trim and cranberry colored shutters, thank you.}

I have planted zinnias in front of my porch for years.  A good friend of mine planted these zinnias (pictured above) for me last spring.  In the past, I have always planted them using starts.  While I was in the hospital with Shaw's birth, she planted zinnia seeds without me knowing.  I will admit I was a bit skeptical.  I've always used starts with my flowers.  Seeds have only been used in the garden.  But, sure enough, these giant and dwarf varieties grew into the bold statements they were meant to be.  Thanks, Patricia!  My fingers are crossed that the seeds I planted today will have equal success.

Mother Nature's Therapy

{photos by moi}

AHHH!

It's planting time again.

My favorite part of spring.

In winter, I miss the smell, texture, and other earthy pleasantries of the soil.

Planting does my soul an abundance of colorful good.

My front porch pots are boldly displaying my favorite flower.

These gerber daisies make me want to sing.

What is your favorite flower?

Me No Speaka the Spanish

I've been running for the past several months training for a race in June.  My iPod has been stocked full of songs that keep my feet movin' and my mind occupied. Pounding the pavement would not be endurable without my earbuds pumpin' out the base.

I've come across a couple of new songs that I really like.  There's only one problem.  They're in Spanish.  I took French in school.  If it's in Spanish and it's not on a restaurant menu, then I don't have a clue what it says.

Except la cucaracha and chihuahua.  I understand that.

So, answer me this:  What if I'm guessing there's a hint of questionable lyrics in my new fave songs? If I can't understand them, does it mean I can still listen to them even if the lyrics are naughty?  I don't know for a fact that they are sassy, but I'm suspecting they are.

Are they telling me to do things that wouldn't be appropriate to share at Enrichment Night?

Are they describing things that would make me shudder if my kids heard and understood?

Do they suggest I buy a new couch without my husband's permission?

Are the lyrics stating other spicy and equally distrubing things?  

I don't know!

Ignorance is bliss I suspect.  So if you listen to these and know what they say, then I commend you on your multilingual abilities.

And I hope your ears aren't burning. 

Click here and here to listen.

 

Brittan's 15 Minutes of Fame

This story was printed in the Clipper - 

Davis County's newspaper.

{click to enlarge}

My Minimalist Husband

The other night Jeff was observing our well worn and tattered couch set.  We've had it for over 13 years and it has survived 3.33 toddlers.  It has weathered spills and drips and filthy summer feet. It was been a bed for the sick and afflicted and a front row seat for our Gregson family movie nights.

It's also been a place where fannies of all shapes and sizes have come to sit and visit.  Perhaps your own fanny has rested itself on our sturdy Broyhill.  

I've been loudly hinting for quite sometime that our couch and it's buddy (the "chair and a half") have seen better days and that, perhaps, a replacement might be in order.  Jeff keeps putting me off.  "Just buy a slip cover," he states knowing that I'll never do it.  I've never met a slip cover that I like.  I don't trust 'em.  They'll wrinkle and sag and do exactly what their name states...slip!   

So, when Jeff was noticing the frayed edges and the lack of fabric piping on the front of the cushions (that was cut out and discarded months ago...it had poked through and was stabbing unsuspecting deriers) I thought, Finally!  He's seen the light and will agree that we are long overdue for some new furniture!  Oh, happy Spring day!  

But true to form, Jeff rubbed the worn out fibers of the cushion, looked at me and said, "Now THAT is awesome!  Not many people can say they have completely worn through their couch cushions!"  Not quite the reaction I was looking for.  

This is my minimalist husband.  He is completely disgusted with our nation's gluttonous overindulgence.  He's all about using it up, making it do, buying it cheaper, and making it last. He'd love to be completely self-sufficient and live off the land.  He's not impressed by homes with 5 car garages.  He doesn't buy into big toys and lavish lifestyles.  He's simple and uncomplicated - do with what you've got and be grateful that you've got it. 

He's disappointed that I don't sew.  

But I'm disappointed that he can't build me a house.

So, we're even. 

It wasn't until our old iMac was completely out of memory (we couldn't save a blasted thing nor print anything) that he agreed that we should get a new one. He proudly boasted that we had used up every last byte of memory in our 9+ year old computer.  

I also have a vacuum that is almost 16 years old - an original wedding gift.  It weighs 127 lbs. but it still cleans up the floor so it's still around.  My chiropractor is happy that I use it.

Use it up, make it do, buy it cheaper, make it last.

  

Never a truer statement was writ:  Opposites attract

A Teenager Has Landed

{Kennedy's Easter Birthday - April 12, 2009}

13 myths about a 13 year old

  Myth:  All teenagers are ornery and mouthy.

Fact:  Mine is not.  Our fingers will remain crossed for the next 6 years.

Myth:  A 13 year old can't survive without a cell phone.

Fact:  Kennedy is still alive despite her lack of cellular convenience.  Texting is not a basic food group (although she'd like to convince us otherwise).  Don't even get me started on the subject...(!!)

Myth:  A teenager can go a day without music.

Fact:  Mine cannot.  Between her iPod, car stereo, kitchen stereo, computer stereo, bedroom stereo, entertainment center stereo, and singing - there is ALWAYS music playing when Kennedy is around.

Myth:  A 13 year old young woman LOVES shopping.

Fact: Sadly for me, Kennedy HATES shopping.  She likes cute clothes she just doesn't like trying anything on.  No fun mom and daughter trips to the mall yet. It's usually me dragging her out and bribing her with a stop by Claire's jewelry store.  She'll grow out if it, right?  RIGHT?!

Myth:  A 13 year old is always asking for money.

Fact:  Kennedy loves her monetary independence.  It pleases her to be able to pay for her own movie tickets, pair of earrings, or strawberry milk at the local Chevron.  She babysits regularly and has been good to save her money for something big.  She is paying her way to a Kelly Clarkson concert with a friend in June.  She spends her own money on birthday and Christmas gifts that she gives too. 

Myth:  Teenagers take themselves too seriously.

Fact:  Kennedy and her group of friends haven't bought into the whole "we need to act like 16 year olds" theory yet.  They are goofy and silly and like to have FUN.  They dress up, have dance offs, laugh till they're delirious, and speak in very loud and energized tones.  

Myth:  A 13 year old usually escapes to their bedroom and doesn't resurface.

Fact:  Kennedy likes to read in her room, but spends the rest of her time among the family.  However, I wish she WOULD retreat to her own living quarters when getting ready for the day.  Instead, she resides in our bathroom and feels she has free reign over my stuff.

Myth:  A teenager won't talk to her parents.

Fact:  Kennedy is very open with us.  I know who she has a crush on (even though her friends don't).  She talks about concerns she has with her friends or kids she knows at school.  She expresses frustrations and stresses.  While she isn't as chatty as she was even a year ago, the lines of communication are still open and we're listening intently.  Again, we'll keep our fingers crossed for the next 6 years.

Myth:  You have to keep on top of a teenager's school work.

Fact:  Not always.  We have never had to remind Kennedy about homework.  EVER!  Since she was in Kindergarten she has always been a completely independent self starter.  She gets in and gets it done without any prompts from us.  It has paid off this year - she is in the National Junior Honor Society.  She's got her eyes on a scholarship to BYU.  

Myth:  Teenagers are young and can survive on little sleep.

Fact:  So NOT true for my daughter.  She could easily sleep until 11:30 a.m. or later on the weekends (if we let her).  While Kennedy has always been a self starter in the homework department, she has never EVER sent herself to bed on time.  We have to push and push and push to get her to sleep.  She loves to manipulate the bedtime routine by plunking herself down by us and starting a conversation (and she knows I'm always up for a good girl chat) rather than heading upstairs and hitting the pillow.  Jeff will get upset with both of us because we'll be chatting away an hour past her bedtime.  She knows my gift of gab and will use it against me to stay up later.  Little stinker!

Myth:  Teenagers are too cool for affection.

Fact:  Kennedy will come and put her arms around me randomly throughout the day.  I love it!  She loves to snuggle with her dad.  She feasts on Shaw's ultra soft jowls.  However, she prefers that her other brothers not touch her at all.  Not even with their pinkie toe.

Myth:  All 13 year old teenage girls are high drama.

Fact: Nope.  We've continued to have little to no drama around here.  She just doesn't buy into it nor does she enjoy watching it around her.  She can see through it and avoids getting caught in the middle of it.  She does like to milk an injury for all it's worth, but other than that, we're in the clear.  The majority of her good friends have always been boys.  Boys = No Dramatics.

Myth:  It's easy to buy a birthday gift for a teenager.

Fact:  HA!  Kennedy had no suggestions for birthday gifts this year.  I had to dig deep for ideas.  But, as luck would have it, we got her the PERFECT gift for her launch into teenagedom.

   

Tickets to see WICKED!

Gum is one of life's essentials for Kennedy.  Taiden bought her a minty variety.

We love our Sunshine Girl!  

Happy Birthday, Kennedy!

Happy Easter

{Photo by Kennedy}

"Thank you Easter Bunny, 

bawk bawk!"

Blame It On the Fumes

I wore a pickled sash with french fried rivers today.  My piano cried because the buttermilk hiccuped and the calculator threw a corsage out the window.  But what do you say when a book hugs a walrus?  "Chaka Khan!"

Games, Gizmos and Toys in the Attic

(OK, my pity party was on hiatus for the day. Just one day. 

I'm sure it will return tomorrow with full force. 

But today was a good Spring Break day.)

10 Things of Utmost Importance:

1.  Cancel your plans for tomorrow.  

2.  Drive your kids down to Happy Valley.  

3.  Go directly to the Museum of Art on BYU campus.  

4.  Enjoy the highly entertaining, immensely creative, and whimsically magical art exhibit of Walter Wick

(you know - the guy who does the I SPY and CAN YOU SEE WHAT I SEE? books)

5.  Enjoy watching your kids freak out over the optical illusions and get excited when they recognize pages from their own Walter Wick books. 

6.  Check out the other art exhibits.  Who knew art could include such random things as packing peanuts and fans, floating garbage sacks, and thousands of packets of duck sauce.  Very COOL stuff!

7.  Stroll on over to the bookstore and pick yourself up a few BYU items.  (Yes Randee and Trisha, that means you too.)

8.  Eat a piece of fudge from the candy counter.

9. Marvel at the beautiful mountain range that is home to the Y.

10.  Go home and spread the word about the incredible art exhibition you saw.  Anyone with kids needs to see it.  Well worth your trip (even if it is on enemy territory).

Walter Wick's display will be there until August.

Pity Party for 1

I hope everyone is enjoying their Spring Break (or has enjoyed or will enjoy).  As you're wading in warm water someplace tropical, or hiking some majestic mountain, or sampling local cuisine somewhere where you're not a local, or doing something else fabulous and rejuvenating...

...think of me.  

I have the privilege of painting my house during Spring Break.  Oh, blessed event!  Did I mention that I detest house projects - especially painting?!  And, oh sunshine on my soul, I get to move furniture, sand and prime, tape and caulk while entertaining a baby and his 3 older siblings. 

So, as you go about doing whatever you do over Spring Break, sip a Pina Colada for me, soak up a few rays of Vitamin D on my behalf, hold your darling child's hand as you skip to your next fun adventure, but please, please, please don't forget to...

...pray for me.

Sanity don't fail me now!

Blackmail

Here's more proof that toys are WAY overrated.  Bathroom drawers are much more exciting.  Bright colors, a variety of textures, shiny boxes, and noisy packaging.  

Shaw-zam loves when he has to wait for me to get ready for the day.  This particular morning he found himself a PRIZE!  

Shake, shake, rattle and gnaw, and off comes the yellow wrapper.

Ah! Is this a mini light saber?

Fun.  It can swing.

Can't you almost hear the whirling sound?

Off with his goods.

Little does Shaw know that these pictures will be kept safe and sound for future use.

If he gives me lip...

 

Breaks curfew...

Gets a little too big for his britches...

Slams the door...

...out come these darling attitude deflators.

And won't they be fabulous in his wedding video?

A Thursday

Jeff skipped out of work today.  I think he's calling it a mental health day.  He's been very busy lately.  His private practice is thriving and we feel very blessed.  During an economic time when just having a job is a good thing, having an overabundance of work is an amazing thing.  I think he just needed a break from the routine today.

I love when Jeff is home.  For selfish reasons, I especially love when he's home on a day when the older kids are at school. He's all mine.  He only has me to listen and talk to.  We enjoyed the quietness of an almost empty home with only Shaw making subtle background noises. It's a rarity for the house to be so still.

We ate lunch together.  He offered to run a few errands with me.  He patiently waited while I tried on a few pairs of shoes and some clothes.  He didn't even do any deep breathing - usually a standard event when shopping.  He held my hand in the car as we drove.  He kissed and snuggled my baby...melting my heart all the while.

He's snoring away on the couch right now.  That's an important part of a mental health day.

Rest up, dear husband.  The children get home in 30 minutes.

When Mellow Babies Go Wild

What kind of mother would encourage her older children to take a cookie from the baby purely for entertainment purposes? (tisk, tisk, nose in the air, "Well I never...") I should feel ashamed.

Thanks to Jason Farnsworth for the chocolate chip cookies. We try to teach our children that we are blessed when we're doing what's right. Picture our family right in the middle of reading scriptures during FHE when...knock...knock...knock...Jason appears at the door with a plate full of cookies. See kids, blessings do come!

Real Love

He

surprised her

with tickets to go see him.

But not only that...

He

took her

 to go see him.

I'm sure Jeff envisioned Kennedy's first concert would be U2, but David Archuleta (aka David Enchilada around our house) will have to suffice.  Kennedy was ecstatic. I reminded Jeff about the age range of Archuleta's fan base and he quickly grabbed some earplugs.  

Ready, Set, DERBY

You should have seen the flicker in Jeff's eyes the day Taiden brought home his unsculptured block of wood for the upcoming Pinewood Derby.  A flash that I knew could only mean a resurgence of boyish competitiveness from yesteryears. He cracked a smile and assured Taiden that their car was going to be something to behold.

After sometime at G'pa Gregson's house using some sort of thing-a-ma-saw, a naked profile of a car emerged.  Then came the shiny, metallic paint.  12 coats of shiny, metallic paint.  12 coats I tell you!  Necessary?  Probably not to an uneducated non-Derby person like myself.  But Jeff assured me it was a must.

Racing stripes appeared.  Then came the weights.  I heard something about fishing weights.  This ain't no pansy wansy car.  No way.  Fishing weights gives it the ghetto, old school flare.  Multiple holes drilled and weights secured snugly inside.  Dry graphite lubricant was then applied and there was lots of wheel spinning.  Necessary or simply ritualistic?  I'm still not quite sure.

The big night came and Taiden was casually pumped up for the games to begin.  He and Jeff are so much alike.  Calm and collected on the outside.  You have to look into their eye to see the true fire within.  They were both focused and eager so see what the competition looked like.

G'pa Gregson came over to watch and support.  The races started and we realized that, with 5 cars zipping down a long wooden track, it is sometimes hard for the judges to always call an accurate winner of each heat.  We confirmed that Taiden's first race.  2nd should have been 1st but what can you do?  This is a church activity.  Sis. __________ isn't getting paid to be a judge, she just has to be the judge because she's a den mother.  Do you cry "Foul!  I want a rematch!" ?

The 2nd race was better; he took 1st.  Then tied for 1st; Jeff and G'pa both raised their eyebrows in question.  Then another 2nd place.  Taiden paced up and down the track.  Not from nervousness, but from being in the moment.  

Results were announced but he didn't make the top 3.  He questioned the validity of the first race ("maybe that's why I wasn't one of the winners, mom?") but we had to put on our parental hats and give a mature answer about "life- not-always-being-fair-and-people-are-doing-their-best-at-judging-fast-cars-crossing-the-finish-line-and-maybe-somebody-forgot-to-put-on-their-glasses-this-morning."  It's hard to be the adult sometimes.

I think Jeff may invest in a finish line camera next time around. That flicker is still in his eye.

Tallying the Votes

300+  7th graders voted.

The votes were counted.

The counted votes determined the winners.

The winners were:

Kenzie Stinger

Nate Ferguson

KENNEDY GREGSON!!!

Thanks to all of Kennedy's well-wishers.  We appreciate your phone calls, comments, letters of support, and love.  2009-2010 will be a memorable school year for her.  

We're so proud of our Sweets.

Edible Apologies

Hello, my name is Kristen.  I am long winded.  In both written and verbal words.  I apologize to those who appreciate brevity.  

You will not find any around here.  But, welcome anyway.

I'm all about parents being humble enough to apologize to their kids when they make a mistake. We teach by example.  We goof up in this trial and error challenge called parenting? We apologize.  We say, "I'm sorry".  We strive to not make the same mistake again.  Admitting to your kids that even mom and dad blow it sometimes is not a sign of weakness.  

I readily admit that I have to apologize to my kids more often than not.  I am not a patient person and my fuse is mighty short.  I'm also an over reactor which I've openly confessed in previous posts.  It's a weakness I hope to someday rein in and tame.  

I think the majority of my apologies are in regards to my intolerance in the morning hours.  We have still, after 8 years of attending public schools, NOT figured out an effective morning routine.  There is WAY too much talking.  Too much laughing.  Too much time lingering over a soggy bowl of Kix.  Should it really take you 30 minutes to consume 1.5 servings?  Too many arguments over which Star Wars character could whoop another Star Wars character. Too much rummaging through mom's make up and jewelry box to see what can be borrowed (not to worry, that pertains to Kennedy only).  Too much off task behavior.  Too much reminding from dad.  Too much yelling from mom!

Last Friday, Taiden had a rough morning and I had an even rougher one.  I lost my cool and was in full blown "last-person-to-ever-get-mommy-of-the-year-award-and-first-person-to-lose-her-voice-permanently-from-blowing-out-her-vocal-chords-because-of-overuse" mode.  I had had it!  I drove Brittan to school and dropped him off early so I could get back to deal with his older sibling.  As Britt scattered out of the car, I could tell he was relieved to be out of my reach because the talons were out and I was not in the mood.

Taiden ended up leaving the house 10 minutes late.  He had to run the whole way to school in hopes of catching the crossing guard before she was off duty.  After he left the house, and I had started on a cough drop to ease my scratchy throat (from the intensified decibel level) I wondered if he had learned his lesson.  Oh, I sure taught him.  Um.  Yeah.  Taught him.  

The only thing I taught him was how a mom should never act.  Never.  

So, the flood of guilt washed over me at that point.  I was ashamed.  I was horrified that I had lost complete and total control and that he had to go to school knowing he had the biggest jerk in the world as a mother.

Then the paranoid mind games started. What if he fell while running to school?  Maybe he was wreathing in pain somewhere and nobody was there to help him up (flashback to "I've fallen and I can't get up!" scenario).  Or, maybe he ran the whole way with tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision, and causing him to take a left rather than a right at the corner, and heading him towards Kaysville.  What if he stops and realizes that he is far from home?  What if he sits on the curb and starts to cry even harder?  Or, what if he was abducted by aliens?  The mothership swoops down, ZAP!, and he is gone.  (You know those darn aliens love to implant things into the back of humans' necks, don't you?  Ever watch the X-Files?)

All joking aside, I felt awful.  I really do let my mind wander and imagine the worst things happening.  I am often tempted to call the school to make sure they arrive safely when they run late.  It's my guilty conscience giving me a work over.  And boy, is it a work over.

On the occasions such as this, I usually have one course of action.  I head to the school at lunchtime.  I have to see them and put my arms around them.  It's a pitiful attempt to remedy my mistake, but I have to do it.  I usually stay and eat lunch with them.  It's what I do. On Friday, I checked Taiden out and took him to lunch.  I broke into an apology the minute we got in the car and I couldn't hold in my waterworks.  The floodgates opened and I was completely consumed with regret. Sincere regret.  

We had an enjoyable lunch and a good talk.  My kids don't hold grudges or cling to hard feelings.  We adults could learn a lesson from them.  He knew that I was sorry and that there was no excuse for my actions.  Late morning or not, losing my cool was not appropriate in any way, shape or form.  I need to stop being a yeller. We talked about what we both could do to make our morning routine smoother and planned to sit down and discuss it as a family.

I also checked the back of his neck for an alien chip.  All clear.

In summary, I've got a lot of improving to do as a mom.  I pray everyday that I can do what's right for my kids.  I love them.  I know we all have moments that we wish we could take back. Moments in which we gave a less than stellar performance as mom or dad.  I hope these cloudy moments are faded by the bright instances when I can show my kids how much they mean to me.  Instances when I put my love and concern for them ahead of time schedules and  the busy tasks of life.  They mean everything to me.  I need to learn to show it constantly, even when life doesn't unfold into a perfectly seamless flow.

Edible apologies are breaking my bank and breaking my heart.

I will do better.

Le Petit Gateau

Here's my novice attempt at making cupcake bites.

First runs of projects always tend to be rough for me, so next time I'm sure they will look maybe half as good as Bakerella's.

Jeff took these miniature bites into work to share.  Once it hit me that therapists and psychologists were going to be seeing these, and eating these, and analyzing these, I started to feel some mild anxiety:  

Does how you make a cupcake bite reflect your inner peace or turmoil?  Too many sprinkles, not enough sprinkles?  No perfectly seamless chocolate exterior; what does that mean?

No uniformity in the cake ball on the inside!  Does that suggest my life is asymmetrical and lopsided?  What can this say about me and my psyche? 

My conclusion is one of 2 things:  I either completely over analyze everything and I need to chill or I'm paranoid and will never send anything to Jeff's work again.

Thanks for listening.

13 to 6

Kennedy is 1 of the final 6 left in the election.

We'll know next week who the 3 winners are.

Keep your fingers crossed (and your toes) (and your eyes) 

(and your T's).

Thanks for your kind words of love and support.  

We appreciate you all!

A Mother's Ultimatum to Her Infant Son

Dear Shaw,

We need to talk.  I hate to do this but I have no choice.

Honey, if you clamp down on me one more time, we are done.  I'm gonna have to cut you off. 

Those 3 little pearly buds are like shards of glass.  They're cuter than cute when you generously flash them with enthusiasm.  However, they don't feel cute.

I hate to sound ungrateful, Shaw.  You and I have had a good working relationship.  I've done my part and you have, usually frantically, done your part.  Very efficiently, I might add.  It's been a blessing to serve you in this way.  I've loved every moment.  Even in the early hours of the morning.  It's just been you and me.  I have tried to secure these personal moments in the archives of my mind. I have loved it.

Maybe it's Mother Nature's way of telling us that it is time to part.  Oh, how bittersweet that will be.

You aren't trying to be mean.  You just can't smile and talk and eat at the same time.  That's the lethal combination.

So, please son, let's make these last few waning weaning weeks pleasant for both of us.  Please.

If not, then it's off to Enfamil land for you.   

Love,

Mommy :)

On the Campaign Trail

This is a big week for Kennedy.  First, she cut her long hair off.  Chop and it was gone. 

Let me just quickly add here that while her hair was beautiful when it was still attached to her head, it is creepin' me out seeing it sit in a bag (waiting to be mailed off to Locks of Love). 6 ponytails look eerie stashed in a ziplock...so inhuman and unnatural.

Anyhoo, her next big step is transpiring today.  She is running for 8th grade officer.  I love that she is finding interest in doing the same kinds of things that Jeff and I did when we were young. But on that same note, I know what it's like to feel the stress, pressure and insecurities that come along the campaign trail.

Will people vote for me?

What if people vote for those who are more vocal or aggressive campaigners? (which she is not)

What if people write on my posters?  Or worse, tear them down?  (Jr. High, remember?) 

She is brave.   To be willing to put yourself out there for all to analyze and decide if they are willing to give you their approval?  At almost 13 years?  The very definition of bravery!  

The great thing about my daughter is that she is always true to herself.  What you see is what you get.  No theatrics.  No drama.  No insincerity or phony baloney.  She is Kennedy at home and at school and at church.  The same girl everywhere she goes.  I hope kids at her school can see that.  She is solid and acts her age.  This is a good thing.  She is 12 going on 13...not 12 going on 16.  I hope kids don't hold that against her.  But again, this is Jr. High, right?

Here are her posters.  Ideas and creativity we have.  Artistry we have not.  Luckily, we have a decent printer and legible handwriting.  If I said it once I said it 6 dozen times over the weekend, "I wish Amy Gregson lived close by!"  She is the Gregson family muralist and artiste and a dynamite one at that!  

The candidates also had to put together a 3 minute video.  No more election assemblies and live skits?!  3 minutes doesn't sound like much, but this video took us hours to put together. Thanks to Jeff and iMovie for this diamond in the rough.  The quality of filming isn't top notch but we think the 7th graders will enjoy watching.  Kennedy loved it so mission accomplished!  And yes, Jeff is now looking into a career of voiceovers.

Also, as an added twist, she has a blog that she'll update daily about why she'd like to be an 8th grade officer.  It will let her peers get to know her a little bit better.  Check it out: www.kennedyforofficer.blogspot.com

A Philanthropic Act

We females are a curious sort. We make a decision and then we stew. And stew. And stew.

I should probably restate that to say: We females (in the Gregson household) are a curious sort. We make a decision and then we stew. And stew. And then ask everyone's opinion at least 10 dozen times.  And then deal only in random hypotheticals.  And then stew some more until the males (in the Gregson household) are ready to pack up and move to higher ground.

For years, Kennedy has wanted to let her hair grow out long enough to donate it to a non-profit organization called Locks of Love.  

"Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers".

The minimum hair length to donate is 10 inches.  Her hair was finally long enough to meet that requirement so she took the plunge and went for it.  But not without a lot of fretting, and nail biting, and nervous butterflies (refer to first 2 paragraphs).  She knew she wanted to do it and that it was the right thing for her to do.  It's just a big step in parting with the long hair you've had for, well, forever.  She was extremely nervous!  I was helping a friend when the whole gang went to get their haircuts. Kennedy frantically called me asking me to hurry to the salon so I could be there with her when she parted ways with her long locks.  By the time it was all said and done, she had 12 - 13 inches cut off.

We're so proud of her.  She looks darling with her short, fresh A-Line.  She looks more grown up and looks like she's ready to turn 13 in less than a month.  She's seeing all the benefits of shorter hair.  Kennedy's feeling sassy and checking out her new look in any reflective surface she comes across.  She loves it!  

Proof that Taiden, as handsome of a kid as he is, would NOT make a pretty girl!