We Need Great Clips!

With a daughter that cuts her own hair (please reference yesterday's post) and a son that could be nicknamed Shaggy Dog, apparently the Connelly family needs Great Clips!

Here's some before pictures:

See? Cute, but shaggy.

Here he is pictured with a selection of his peers to show the abnormal growth rate of his hair.

Although this is his third haircut, this was his first time sitting in the chair all by himself!

He did a great job and LOVED the sucker!

While brother was getting his hair cut, so were his sisters. McKenna wanted to go, and I had an extra coupon, so I got her hair cut too.

She's a pro.

Or, she knew there was a sucker at the end.

She's so darn cute!

And now for the pictures you've been waiting for, the personal hair cut.

(see, it wasn't so bad)

When the stylist asked Madelynn why she was there, she said, "I cut my own hair last night, so I need you to make it look better."

And she sure did! My baby's all grown up!

WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

(excuse me, sniff)

So, the Connelly family is all trimmed up and acceptable looking.

For now.

Who needs Great Clips?

It was bound to happen. And of course it was bound to happen while I was out of the house and Daddy was in charge.

Madelynn cut her own hair.

Let's back up a little. I ran to Walgreens to pick up a prescription and some ice. I came home and Branden met me in the driveway. Without saying a word, he opened his clutched fingers and showed me a fistful of hair. "You're daughter cut her own hair. In the front. It's horrible."

I bit back a smile. C'mon, everybody does it. At least we've got three weeks til school and a whole 48 hours til the birthday parties this weekend!

But Daddy was terribly upset, so I put on a frown and prepared for the worst.

It wasn't so bad. She basically gave herself bangs. However, I gave her the "We don't cut our own hair because it's very hard to do correctly and it isn't safe!" speech and then I made her dump her coin jar (from doing her chores) into a baggie to pay for the "hair cut place" to fix it.

I don't think they'll have to do much. And I so desperately wanted to post a picture, but I thought that might be sending the wrong message:

"What you did was wrong. Now, say cheese!"

Musing and Running

For those of you living under a rock, I've recently (well, since Easter) started training for a half-marathon. Why? Because I'm a sucker. My sister told me to, and I said ok. Seriously. That's all it took.

So, three nights a week, I hit the sidewalks in an ever-widening route around my house and try to improve my endurance and pace. I have an app on my iPhone that tells me when to run and walk, and I listen to my iTunes for upbeat music or an intriguing book. But sometimes, I am ill-prepared and my battery dies prematurely. Which sucks. So my mind wanders.

My route meanders through Overland Park and Prairie Village. Now, Overland Park used to be THE place to live. That distinction has now drifted east and north to Prairie Village. And no one's really interested in taking the title back.

Don't get me wrong, Overland Park is an excellent neighborhood. It's safe and clean and pleasant. Here's the difference. I saw a sign that proudly proclaimed:

Prairie Village Homes' Assoc

HOME OF THE

MONTH

Wow. And my first thought was, "I bet they've had that honor a few months in a row. Heh, heh, heh." But then I looked around. And that neighborhood was pristine. Like, they would kick us and our unruly children out. Swimsuits on the clothesline? I think not! Bikes on the patio? Disgusting! Grass not mowed four times a week in a rotating pattern with a highly maintained machine? The horror! I sped up a little. I was nowhere near dressed appropriately to be running through Prairie Village that evening.

My favorite night to run on? Trash night. I just love dodging ginormous trash cans, swarming with flies and sucking in that smell that can only come from a trash can. Love it. One time, I almost threw up. Speaking of smells, there's that house that you can tell is cleaned obsessively, as it smells like fresh laundry. From the sidewalk. Poor woman.

Then there's the house with the overgrown yard, no landscaping to speak of and no personality. And there in the driveway is a shiny, new truck that you know is someone's baby. That's a young homeowner.

The house with a perfectly manicured lawn, nurtured landscaping and artful additions to the house. Haphazardly parked in the driveway is a land boat that is no one's baby. That's an old homeowner.

With all this judgement, I wonder, what do people think of me based on my house? With it's overgrown lawn, toys strewn about, unwashed vehicles and overgrown landscaping. Hopefully, they see a family with active, little ones and therefore no spare time. They see a Daddy that spends time playing with his kiddos instead of obsessing over the lawn. They see......

Ok, ok. We need to spend a little more time in the yard.

I'll get Branden right on that.

World Trade Center

Through the steam of my coffee this morning, I heard the news anchor mention the fire station at 75th and Conser. That's right around the corner from my house, so I perked up and paid attention. They went on to report that an I-beam from the World Trade Center would be making it's way from the fire station at 75th and Conser down Metcalf Ave to the Sprint Campus for a ceremony before being memorialized in a fire training center. I thought that might be neat to see. Plus, it was on the news, so it was kind of important, maybe someone would want to interview me and my adorable children!

Alas, I did not have time to shower, but I did freshen my makeup. (I realized the foolishness of this when I stepped out into the 90 degree heat, but it never hurts to be prepared. I'm always surprised at the people that don't take the time for that. There was a shooting? Comb your hair! Witness a robbery? Put on a nicer shirt! Anyway, it turned out to be a moot point.)

Since it would pass by on Metcalf, a mere half-block away, I loaded the babies in the wagon and made sure everyone had a water. We made our way up the street, found a nice shady spot, and waited. And waited. And waited. I should have taken into account that I was going to be following the schedule of firefighters. They must have taken a call. Fortunately, the kids did pretty well.

And no, there was no one that wanted to interview us. In fact, there was no one there waiting to see this piece of history drive by. I'm sure I looked like a fool. (And for those of you not in the loop, I still only have three children! The little girl with no hair-and therefore not a Connelly- is my darling niece, Teagen!)

Finally, the procession topped the hill. First came the motorcycle escort.

This most impressed McKenna. After she got over the fact that we were NOT going to McDonald's!

The motorcycles were followed by the firetruck. I wish it had turned it's sirens on. Or it's lights. Something. But Madelynn thought it was cool. She waved-very enthusiastically. Nothing.

And finally, the semi.

It was a quick, little moment. And I admit, I got a little choked up.

I lived on the east coast, in Baltimore during September 2001. My friend worked near the Pentagon and I was downtown that day. I'd been to New York City for shopping and sightseeing several times and knew a few people that lived there. So, this terrible event in history was far more personal for me than a lot of my neighbors here in the midwest.

I am thankful that I got the chance to stand on the side of the road, looking like a fool and pay my respects to that hunk of steel as it made it's way slowly past.

Recapturing My Youth

I'm throwing my reputation to the wind. I'm announcing to the world, in the face of potential criticism, that I am in fact, a Backstreet Boys fan. A fan that has attended many concerts and purchased all their albums. I even have a playlist of my favorites on my iPhone right now. It makes great running music. Except when you try to recreate their dance moves. While you're running. Not graceful.

Imagine my excitement when I discovered that NKOTBSB (New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys) would be in concert in Kansas City! My mother, sister and I promptly bought tickets. Months in advance.

We planned our evening meticulously. We met for dinner beforehand and enjoyed a pitcher of sangria. This only served to make myself more hilarious. The buzz totally wore off before the concert. Which made parking interesting.

As we made our way to the Sprint Center, along with thousands of other soccer moms, I was amazed at the shirts I saw. New Kids bedsheets made into skirts, offers of free physicals for members of the band and even bachelorette parties offering the "boys" a last chance!

Up the hideously long escalator we went. Found our section and row (only two away from the back of the stadium!) and settled in for the fun. But settling in carefully was in order. The top section at the Sprint Center is not for everyone. It is so steep that when you lean back in your seat, you can look straight down to the stage. No leaning forward necessary. Did I mention it was steep? Well, it was too steep for mom. So I accompanied her to Guest Services and we explained. They must be used to hearing this, because she handed over two lower seat tickets without much more explanation. Which was awesome for mom and I, but sucked for the remaining 4 in our party. Which included my sister.

After walking around the entire Sprint Center, we realized that there were no down escalators and had to take the stairs. Whoops. So Mom and I sat and enjoyed our seats (only 3 rows up from the floor and we had CUP HOLDERS, people!) I did not look around and want to throw up from the vertigo associated with the heights. But the guilt finally got me. So we trudged back up to Guest Services to beg for four more tickets to the lower section. On our way up to the window, I coached my mom.

"Make sure you thank them for the new seats. Gratitude goes a long way in softening hard hearts. And tell them you're seperated from your daughter. Use tears if necessary!" And she did great! The lady looked at her for a minute, and then started shuffling through her stacks of tickets. Done, deal!

So we moved everyone down to the lower section where we had the whole row to spread out and enjoy! It was awesome!

This is a picture from our new, better seats. Doesn't Mom look thrilled?!?! That would be our previous seats up there above the word "advised". All the way to the top. Scary, huh?

This is how thrilled we were to be together. Ok, that's a lie. We're just really stoked for the concert! It's almost time, baby!

And so it begins. The stage was pretty elaborate. And awesome. I screamed like a teenage girl.

Here's my boys! I don't care what you say, if Branden wore a white suit, I'd pretty much be at his beck and call. Or I'd melt.

At every concert, the Backstreet Boys always pick girls from the crowd and serenade them. Brian Littrell (the guy in front) picked two little girls to sing to. Probably because he's a daddy now. It was pretty cute.

I've always admired the composure of these girls that are chosen. I think I'd be so overwhelmed, that I would cry hysterically and just ruin the song.

They finished the serenade in classic style. Again with the melting. I know, I'm pathetic. It was wonderful!

And finally, a still picture of the dancing. I can get down with the dancing. Wish I could do the dancing, but I've tried that route. It isn't pretty. Perhaps that's why I admire such talent. Because I have none.

 And so, another Backstreet Boys concert is in the books. But here's a thought for you. At the finale, when the confetti cannons went off and everyone was screaming, my first thought was, "Man, that's gonna suck to clean up." Hmmm...

I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb when I muse that recapturing my youth is fun for an evening, but I kinda like where I've ended up. It was nice to come home and gush to my hubby and kiss my babies good night.

But don't count me out for the next tour! Backstreet's Back!