Well, the “pretty” thing turned out to be no big deal, and I tried not to make it a bigger deal.  I think as parents we have these giant red flags we’re searching for with signals our kids give us, especially when it comes to confidence.  Sometimes, hardly a flash of red appears and we take it as a signal fire.  Lainey seemed bewildered by the fact that I wanted to talk about it when all she wanted to do was finish coloring Fancy Nancy’s face in her coloring book.  So I took her cues and kept it light-hearted.  Yes, there are lots of things that make us feel pretty but turns out that Lainey thinks “pretty” means blue eyes–even if she likes her brown eyes too.  No signal fire.  Sister’s fine.

I just returned from an essential oil party tonight with my friends.  I pictured candles and spa tunes and all of us passed out on the floor, totally zen from eucalyptus, but it didn’t exactly go that way.  I started using a few essential oils for pregnancy nausea and headaches this time around, and now I’m getting into it.  And the “I think I’m a Doctor” I’m married to has a list of oils he’s researched for common ailments.  I’m hoping it goes better than the last time I got into essential oils which goes a little something like this:

About six years ago, Girlfriend took one trip into this local health food store that smelled like alfalfa, lavender and healthy people with cool quirks, and it was life-changing–or so I thought. Here I was in my early twenties, identity easily swayed by anything that looked cool (mid-thirties, I still get that way sometimes).  And there, standing in front of bergamot and sandalwood bottles in the middle of the essential oil aisle, I decided I was going to become Essential Oil Girl, a small step toward the grass smoothie drinking, dredlock wearing, Prius driving chick that, on that particular day, I thought was cool (I decided I’d stop at maxi pads made out of sheep’s wool).

I bought five oils to start, came home and didn’t even think to research their intended uses.  Peppermint oil smelled good, and I was certain it’d make a relaxing bath.  So Essential Oil Girl lit some candles, poured a fourth of the peppermint bottle (not kidding–a fourth of a bottle) into hot water and climbed in.  Brett walked in a minute later and said, “Smells really strong–like a candy cane” which is about the moment when the excrutiating pain part of this story comes in. 

Take my word:  Do not ever, ever, ever pour fourth of a bottle of peppermint oil into a bath intended to soak a human body. 

I imagine being burned with dry ice feels a little bit like taking a peppermint oil bath.  Or putting Ben Gay in places it doesn’t go.  Everything–and I mean everything–went frozen.  Burning chills.  My body shook for four hours.  I literally wrapped myself in wool and then climbed under fifteen hundred blankets, hand cupped over burning crotch, crying, and still could not get warm. It was awful.  And I’m sorry to say that’s not the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in life (Dad, no need to comment on this sentence). 

I’ve come a long way since then, and we’ve been researching some ways to supplement modern medicine for our family (Brett’s highly interested–always has been).  We’re going to try some natural things for immunity, stress and allergies for our family and some very basic natural remedies for increased cognitive/memory for Nella–nothing ingested and nothing I would push on anyone else.  There’s a lot of information out there re: cognitive supplements for Down syndrome, and I don’t have enough substantial research to suggest these for anyone else.  At this point we have not used any nutritional supplements for Nella other than regular children’s vitamins, and we’re most comfortable keeping it that way for right now, with the addition of some daily essential oils that we’re going to try.  I’ve received numerous e-mails requesting what we do for Nella, if we use any supplements, etc.  It’s not that we’re trying to be secretive–we’re happy to share what we do.  It’s just that there are thousands of stories out there, not enough solid case studies for my own safety comfort levels, and I’m not qualified to refer parents regarding these issues.  We do what feels comfortable for our family, we use our trusted resources to ask questions and I expect everyone else does the same. 

With that said, spa night’s over and I’m ready to camp out. 

A few pics…

So ticked at me..

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If you haven’t yet, check out our sponsor Dashing Bee’s consignment site, updated with new inventory daily.  Dashing Bee is a great way to inexpensively add necessary pieces to your child’s wardrobe.  If you have multiple children and you’re preparing for the coming cold months, check out their outerwear before you buy new! 

A few of my current favorite basics on their site right now:

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Happy Weekend!

I’ve had four deep what-is-life-all-about conversations this week with different people. About faith and motherhood and marriage and vulnerability and writing and family and hardship and change and what makes us tick. The kind of conversations that get me all passionate and heart-racing and voice-raising and I want to preach it. I want to take it to the streets because hell yeah, I believe it. It’s not even the “it” that really matters–I’m not hung up on preaching about issues that divide people or arguing over a viewpoint different than mine (unless your viewpoint is judging people–I will have a smackdown over judging. You wanna defend your judginess? I’ll meet ya at the roller rink, 10:00. Your judginess is about to get its ass kicked ‘cuz Love Wins.). I’m more interested in the passion behind it–these topics that get us riled up in a good way. It’s that riled up feeling that becomes a catalyst and makes us want to do something. Help someone, help ourselves, be more, write something good, say something meaningful, do something worth doing.

A: Get passionate about something important. Bring your passion to the table. Do something about it. Talk about it.

I realized in every one of these conversations that the things I am most passionate about are often the things of which I know the least about. Areas where I struggle.

I can’t put my finger on my faith and I have a gazillion questions and frustrations over what it is I really believe and yet at the same time I feel so passionate and confident about my questions and frustrations–it’s what makes my faith strong. That vulnerable place feels so absolutely comforting to me.

And parenting? I make mistakes and then I fix them and then I make some more, and I wonder what my kids will say twenty years from now about how we raised them. Half the time when making parenting decisions, I don’t know what the heck I’m doing, but that newness, that uncharted territory–it is thrilling. I don’t have all the answers, but I have good instincts and I love my kids something fierce. That combination fuels me to be an absolutely amazing mom.

B: Accept that you don’t know jack about a lot of stuff. The minute you admit that, you’ll start to know jack.

Lainey came home from school today talking about a girl who’s pretty. She has “blue eyes and really pretty hair and she’s in another teacher’s class” and I don’t know much else about her except, I get it–she’s “really really pretty.” And my protective, validating husband immediately pipes up with “you know you’re pretty too, Lainey.”

Except Lainey answered, “No I’m not. I’m not pretty, Daddy.”

And I see the “Holy-red-flag, shooting flares, call-a-therapist” look in Brett’s eyes.

The girl crap begins.

And I sort of love that I don’t have the answers because I get to think about what those answers will be. What an opportunity to teach my daughter. While we handled her comment instinctively with whatever came to our mind at the time she said it (“Of course you’re pretty! Why do you say that? People are pretty in lots of different ways!”), I am anxious to return to the conversation tonight at bedtime when we have those feel-good, you’ll-remember-this-later conversations. I can’t wait to ask her what she thinks makes someone pretty, and I can’t wait to tell her what pretty means to me. I have good questions to ask her, and her Female Confidence savings account is about to get a hella good deposit.

Yes, part of me wanted to freak out. Call a Family Intervention Meeting. Why is she saying this? We’re not hung up on pretty! Or are we? What did we do? Oh my God, we screwed up. It’s a Code 6852: She’s talking who’s pretty and who’s not at FIVE!

Three girls in my life whose confidence I care very much about

C: Don’t freak out. Figure it out.

There’s oodles of stuff out there about raising girls and talking about pretty and the relationship between praise and confidence, etc. I read this stuff and a lot of it stays with me, but I learn the most by doing. By throwing up my hands and thinking “I don’t know exactly what to say but here I go.” I’m going to rely on my natural instincts and my vulnerabilities and my love for my girl and I’m going to figure it out.

This is parenting. When we don’t know exactly what to say, that’s often when we say the most meaningful things. The same goes for life. When we admit we don’t know the answers, when we are humble and kind and open to learn, that’s usually when we are the most powerful.

Tonight, my girl and I are going to talk about pretty. It will be a memorable conversation–the fifth what-is-life-all-about conversation for me this week. It will be good. Of this I am sure.

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Welcoming Walls is joining ETST in sponsorship this month, bringing a collection of vinyl wall art that adds a personal touch to your home.

With a number of different fonts and styles and a variety of sayings and quotes, Welcoming Walls makes it easy for you to quickly decorate a wall, a front door, a window or a space in your home that needs a little something extra.

I love the simply stated “boo.” for the upcoming holiday. We have it on several windows and our front door. I also love the “I love you because” that we’ve added to Lainey’s chalkboard fridge.

Nella smeared my answers. Boo.

Check out the many other designs in Welcoming Walls, and find a simple way to display your love in your home.

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I never thanked you for all those wonderful wishes you gave Baby Boy last week. Thank you. This son thing is sinking in, and I love saying that…I have a son.