A Daddy by any other name . . .

Recently we were driving in the car and Neil engaged Margie Grace with the following: "Margie Grace, who is your favorite daddy?" (as if she has lots of choices here) He, of course, was expecting her to answer "you!" and was surprised when, after a pensive moment, she replied "Neil!"

She's too funny!

"I don't wear outfits!"

Judging from the title, you might think this post is about a conversation between me and Margie Grace. However, she has yet to learn that degree of diffiance (she just sticks with "no" and "not"). In actuality, it stems from an exchange between Neil and myself. Apparently, in addition to learning new parenting lessons everyday, I am also -- after six and a half years of marriage -- learning new wife lessons. Let me fill you in.


We haven't had Margie Grace's pictures taken professionally since she turned a year old so when her second birthday rolled around, I decided it was time to make an appointment once again. We also haven't had a family portrait made since MG was a three-week-old infant. The one we took was a very sweet studio portrait of the three of us, dressed in the ever cliche white and khaki. Well, the photo needs to be updated and I decided since I was scheduling a photographer to do MG's pictures that we'd also use the occasion to take a new family portrait. This time around we are doing the photos outside at Kiesel Park. Wanting to look cordinated but not matchy-matchy, I put together something specific for each of us to wear -- shirts and pants that look good together but hopefully won't look like we are trying too hard (yes, I found us a pair of matching Fair Isle sweaters but I spared Neil that shame!).

So Thursday was the big day for our pictures and the night before on the way home from church, Neil and I were talking about Thursday's schedule. Who has to be where when, etc. Because Neil had a meeting prior to our appointment with the photographer I told him "be sure you wear your outfit to Kiesel." The moment was puncuated by a sharp silence before Neil whipped his head around at me and said very plainly "I don't wear outfits!" What?!? So I continued, "Yea, you know, the outfit I bought you to wear for our pictures. Be sure you wear it to the park." He bristled again and balked at the message I was trying to convey, even sighing in disgust. I didn't understand so I countered with "so what are you going to wear?" To which he explained "Guys wear shirts and pants, not outfits!" I had obviously really touched a nerve with my choice of words. We continued the discussion: me brushing it off and explaining it was just a word and Neil telling me that only men like Richard Simmons wore outfits. "I don't do outfits. I don't do ensembles. I wear shirts and pants. You wear outfits. Margie Grace wears outfits. I. Don't. Wear. Outfits!" OK, gotcha, point taken. So Thursday morning, while reviewing our plans for the day I took caution with my reminder. "You know those very manly dark brown pants and red plaid shirt that I bought you at the mall this weekend? You need to make sure you are wearing that when you come to Kiesel. Just pull up and look for Margie Grace and I; we'll have on our outfits!"

The Pumpkin Patch . . . One Year Later

Since we visited the same Pumpkin Patch this year as last year, I thought it would be fun to try to recreate some of the pictures we captured last fall. This is my best attempt. Apparently over the course of this year Margie Grace has come to dislike horses and hay. I couldn't get her to sit on the hay bales long enough to take a photo (it was too "sticky" as she said). But she would cling to Neil so that I could take a couple with the sweet horse. What a difference a year makes!

"Mr. Needle"

Three weeks ago Neil and I prayerfully answered the call to help teach 4-year-old Mission Friends at our church. Another couple that we know, Jeb and Lacy Jones, had signed up to teach the class and discovered they were going to need extra help when 24 kids showed up on the first night. We've been working with them ever since. (Anyone that has ever been outnumbered by preschoolers knows what an impossible job this would have been. Our presence has cut the ratio to approximately 6:1 so it is somewhat manageable. Still, each week Neil says he feels like Gulliver being overrun by Lilliputians!)

We have a lot of fun and are really enjoying getting to know all the little ones. Our first night teaching, "Mrs. Lacy" (as the kids call her) played a little game to help the kids learn all of our names: Mrs. Lacy, Mrs. Katie, Mr. Jeb and Mr. Neil. In my opinion, these are four relatively easy names to pronounce but for some reason, these little southern children like to draw Neil's name out into two syllables with a strong emphasis on the long "e" sound. (Mr. Neeeee-uhl) I have been surprised how well they have remembered our names from week to week. (It is taking us a little longer, however, to remember all of their names!) Tonight at Mission Friends each of us was manning a table during craft time and assisting with their projects when suddenly I heard a little guy at Neil's table say something about "Mr. Needle." I had no idea what he was talking about and then I realized he was referring to Neil! "Can you help me Mr. Needle?" "Can you tape this for me Mr. Needle?" "I don't know how to do this Mr. Needle!" It was such a hoot and Lacy and I started chuckling. But Neil didn't miss a beat -- he kept right on coloring and taping and cutting. So next time you see Neil, ask him how Mr. Needle is doing!

Adding Insult to Injury

Long story short: Saturday was not Neil's day. He possesses a deep abiding love for all things Auburn, including Auburn football. So it was beyond disappointing for him that our team lost a heartbreaker of a game to LSU. But that was only part of his troubles. The day began to take a turn for the worse for Neil when he stepped awkwardly off a curb while tailgating on campus before the ballgame. His misstep resulted in a severely swollen and probably sprained left ankle. It was bad enough that the foot was hurting, but we exacerbated his injury by walking what seemed like several miles (ok, maybe just a mile or so but it seemed like more!) from our parked car to the stadium and back again. By the time we were within sight of our car after the game, Neil was shuffling like Harvey Corman. I offered to carry him for the duration but he said we wouldn't get very far. (He's right.) Neil woke up Sunday morning with what looked like a giant flesh-colored tennis ball attached to the side of his foot (see photo above). Let me tell you -- the thing was huge! Neil is such a good sport and really didn't complain much, although I know how badly he was hurting (flashback to Katie's sprained ankle incident of 04!). A good barometer for how Neil is really feeling is how much he lets something like an injury or illness slow him down. He is not one to sit idly but he spent pretty much all Sunday on the couch, which is truly rare. The swelling has gone down a bit but as of Tuesday night, the ankle still looks pretty bad. However, Neil is pushing through and at this point isn't letting it get in his way. Hopefully, he'll be healed in time for Saturday when the Tigers have an opportunity to redeem themselves against Tennessee. I know another loss would surely make Neil forget about his pain but let's not go there!