SO PROUD

I'm wearing the hippy hippie skirt today and let me just say, I love, Love, LOVE it!  I love the way it flows and swishes when I walk and how it makes me feel all free and unconstricted.   

Really puts me in touch with my inner hippie chick and anyone who has known me forever knows I do indeed have a hippie chick side....doesn't always show through on the outside but she is always in there somewhere. ;-)

 I got to thinking about the spelling of hippie and all 2 or 4 of you who have actually been reading my ramblings, know that on my post two days ago I spelled it hippy.  As I thought about it, I realized that it may in fact be hippie so I did what I always do when I need an answer.

I googled.

I was wrong the first time and according to this bit of info I found on the worldwide web, I am unhip for spelling it incorrectly.  See: 


HIPPIE/HIPPY:

A long-haired 60s flower child was a “hippie.” “Hippy” is an adjective describing someone with wide hips. The IE is not caused by a Y changing to IE in the plural as in “puppy” and “puppies.” It is rather a dismissive diminutive, invented by older, more sophisticated hipsters looking down on the new kids as mere “hippies.” Confusing these two is definitely unhip.

Yikes! 

So it appears that hippy is actually used to describe wide hips which I was worried about in the first place when I bought the hippie skirt.  I guess I'm a hippy hippie chick in my hippie skirt but either way, I love it lots and will be wearing the heck out of it. 

I also vow right here and now to never, ever confuse hippy with hippie again.

Complete change of subject now but the Dracenator's bathrobe came today. I was unsuccessful in finding him one in Target so we picked one out online and he has been asking about it every day.  

He's going to be super psyched when he gets home.  I am still quite clueless as to why a 6 year old boy decided that he desperately needed a bathrobe but hey, I'll take what I can get. Boys don't usually get excited about clothing items.

At least not mine. It's "all boy" all the time around my house.  Speaking of which, we have baseball assessments tonight.....the Dracenator at 6 and Dev at 7. My world is about to get much crazier as I'm sure we'll be spending 2 to 4 nights a week at the ball field. 

While I am not really into sports all that much, I do get a thrill from watching my boys play whatever sport they happen to be playing at the time. 

Gives me a sense of pride to watch them make a good play, or get a good hit or score one for their team and tears me up inside to see them strike out or miss the catch.  Watching one of your" babies" play sports is a whirlwind of emotions for most any mama I imagine.  

After all, a mama is always her son's or daughter's number one fan.  I know mine was always my biggest fan as she still is today.  Thanks for reading, mom! 

Well now that I've gone and gotten all sappy, I'm gonna have to quote that book by Marjorie Holmes again.  I believe I did warn y'all that I'd be quoting it a lot! 

So here you have it (it's a little long but it was too good to cut any of it out): 

SO PROUD

Oh , Lord, sometimes my delight and pride in my children

are almost too much to be contained.

I would praise you for them, I would rejoice-

 almost I would run dancing into the street. 

These sons, so tall and strong. 

 Often as I despair of them, complain of them, their achievements

thrill me, their values never cease to surprise me. 

 Their fervor for the underdog, their basic decency,

their compassion.

And their unexpected consideration. 

 Just when I think they have failed me

they will do something so generous, so thoughtful,

 I am astonished.

Thank you, God, for these difficult, curious, incredible sons! 

And these daughters. 

 So pretty, so poised, so full of life and sweetness.

Not always- no, not always-

but growing in grace and charm and womanly loveliness.

They too are a marvel.  Where did they come from,

these radiant strangers?  How is it that my body shaped

them, this turbulent household produced them? 

Yet there they are, demanding so much,

yet giving so much in return.

I am ashamed of the way I worry and fret and scold about them.

They are so good, so basically kind and good.

Thank you, God, for these daughters.

And my children's accomplishements. 

Hear, oh, Lord, and be patient with me in my pride.

They don't always excel, but when they do

  my pride and gratefulness are almost too much.

The honor roll (at last!).  The team. 

 The chorus. (that's my child, I want to tell everyone,

the best looking one in the second row.)

The plays.  The recitals.

  I sit on my hands to restrain my applause

I lock my lips against bragging. 

Yet my eyes and my heart are urging

the whole world to take notice.

No, no, I dare not proclain the pride in them to others.

But You who fashioned them and sent them to me,

You to whom I often cry out my distress,

surely You want to hear and share it.

I am proud of these children, Lord. 

I rejoice in my sons and daughters.

Thank You for them!