Rundown

I have been anticipating this day for three months.

Summers are tiring in a house full of 10 kids. There isn’t enough to do to keep everyone busy and out of trouble for months on end, and in a state that is kill-you-hot during the summer, that means a lot of long hours in the house...

Luckily we made it through the vacation months with fantastic kids and very little real drama. 

June and July had me looking forward to today, the first day of school. In my mind, school means hours and hours of free time during the day. And more than free... Quiet... Ahhh...

But school brings its own kind of work.

Let me run you through what the first day of school looks like in our unique family.

6:30 

Wake everyone up

Direct traffic

Scrambled 16 eggs

Send two boys back to change (orange striped polo with blue plaid cargo shorts? Please try again)

Produce one ponytail

Pack 8 lunches (prepared the night before)

Take multiple “first day” photos

Hug, Kiss, Cheer

7:25

Andy walks six elementary schoolers, and one Joey in a wagon, to school

7:35

Two high schoolers walk out the door to their bus stop

7:38

Blend up a green smoothie (my new favorite thing) and wiggle into my gym  clothes

8:30

CrossFit with Andy - spent a lot of energy working on my push ups (in other words, I'm horrible at pushups and tried to not be so horrible at them), but showed off my awesome pistols (one-legged squats)

9:30

Chase down Joey, who has stripped himself naked while Andy and I were working out and is running wild in the parking lot (don’t worry - it is a closed parking lot and big kids were playing with him)

10:00 

Blah, blah, blah

11:00

Lunch for Jack and Joey

Put dinner in the crockpot

12:20

Naps for everyone!

1:50

Andy walks back to school to fetch kids

2:20

Chaos ensues

Papers to sign. Oh the papers to sign.

Homework

Make snack (popcorn and chocolate/peanut butter/banana/kale smoothies with coconut milk!)

Handle THREE meltdowns over reading

Listen to Joey laugh hysterically as he played “school” with our 1st grader

Sympathize with tears over missed friends (five of our kids had to move to a new school this year)

4:15

Run to Target for additional school supplies needed

Wonder why I thought school would be easier than summer

5:15

Andy plays tee ball with Jack and the kids at home

Get kids started on showers

6:15

Dinner on the table

Remind everyone AGAIN about table manners

6:45

Chores

Mayhem

Noise, noise, noise

Almost scream a number of times

7:15

“Go brush your teeth!”

Hide in the bathroom for three minutes, until patience has been calmed and prepared for the last few minutes of the day

7:30

Bedtimes stories for all! 

8:00

Send to bed

Tuck in Jack and Joey

Prayers and back scratches for the girls

Head scratches and more prayers for the boys

8:15

Find Andy for a brief hug and high-five

Quickly get the day on paper

Marvel at the sweet exhaustion of family life

8:40

Snap the laptop shut

Get out the ice cream

Watch the Olympics

9:30

Shower

Collapse in bed

10:20

Realize that I didn’t make lunches for tomorrow and decided, oh well, what’s one more thing to do tomorrow?

And that is it.

Tomorrow is another day. Another series of hours connected by joy, frustration, crazy and serene. Another day to love and make mistakes and do my very best to... do my best. 

And now, to my sweet dreams. Minus the remembering that I didn’t make lunches part. 

First Lunch Box

Yesterday was an exciting day. 

We got an email from Jack’s new preschool with the usual, “We can’t wait to meet you!” and list of what to bring on the first day.

My favorite thing on the list was a lunch box.

Ooooohhh! I get to pack a lunch for Jack!

In my mind, I am picturing one of those sweet, colorful and well-balanced bento-style lunches that will tell all of Jack’s teachers that his mom is creative, healthy and obviously is a great parent because she sends broccoli with her son to school, and he eats it!

No, Jack will not eat broccoli if I send it to school with him.

He probably won’t even eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

When he is excited Jack isn’t interested in pausing to eat. 

And boy, Jack is excited!

I read the letter to him and he thought it meant that we were going to school right then. For as many times as I told him there wasn’t anyone at the school yet, he told me that I was incorrect and that we should go check.

To help him get over having to wait (three more weeks!) we went to pick out a lunch box.

I really wanted him to have a trendy, artsy, inscribed box to carry his meals in. Preferably something with stripes in navy blue, orange and maybe some green or grey. Those are the colors cool moms send their boys to school with. 

In my deep, deep heart, I knew that we would come home with Spiderman. We don’t even watch Spiderman, yet he seems to win all the time in our house.

I even considered telling Jack we had to buy his lunch box from the computer and only showing him styles I liked.

Who am I kidding. I didn’t consider that - I did it!

I found a website with a variety of designs I approved of and used my “this is so awesome!” voice to describe each one as Jack and I looked at the pictures.

We settled on an option that Jack was really excited about, and I was willing to go for. It was aliens. But at least the aliens were navy blue, orange and green, with a little bit of grey thrown in.

AND, it came with a cool bento tupperware for all of my creative and healthy bites that would return home to me at the end of every school day.

In addition to a lunch box, it was also high on my list to get Jack some shoes, as he has spent most of the summer barefoot since we lost one of his Tom’s on a road trip to Colorado.

While at the mall hunting for (and finding!) the cutest shoes ever, we also walked past Pottery Barn Kids. Low and behold, right in their display window, were lunch boxes. We took a peek in and Jack fell in love.

His affection came to rest on a square (no thank you to the sack style, says Jack) canvas cooler. No aliens, not a stripe to be seen, not even a hint of navy blue... Just snakes.

After watching Jack clutch it and describe what he would eat from the magical snake box (broccoli was not on the list) I decided that it would be a good fit. While it was lacking in navy blue, it was heavy on the grey... And non-existent in the logo/spiderman department, which was a major plus.

We purchased it, and almost accidentally purchased an extremely overpriced water bottle to match. 

Luckily Andy was paying attention and saved us from that over-spend!

Shoes? Check.

Lunchbox? Check.

Adorable new tees and shorts? Yes indeed!

It is official. My first baby is ready for school!

Off to a good start!

It turns out that I am a really great starter, but not much of a finisher. 

I’m disappointed to learn this. Especially since the lesson has been quiet expensive. 

I probably should have realized it sooner (since Andy has been hinting at it for a while - when I told him what I was writing about he laughed really hard and said, “that’s funny!”) but some truths about ourselves are hard to accept.

In the past, whenever I’ve had to acknowledge my lack of follow through I’ve chalked it up to either too little time or too many interruptions.  There is always something outside of me to blame for my lack of followthrough. 

But, I’m noticing that there are two more more accurate reasons, ones that have to do entirely with me, that I leave some ambitions unmet.

Recently, I made an expensive start and feeble finish because my sense of self is a few days/months/years behind. 

I just spent a pretty penny on a 24-day diet challenge. 

You know, vitamins, minerals, meal shakes... It was a three week program to cleanse, energize and drop weight.

I made it about two weeks in with only minor deviance (one fourth of a cookie, a scoop of ice cream and a pina colada to be exact) from the program and discovered no changes in my weight, measurements or energy level. It was then that I discovered that as far as my body goes, I’ve hit a “set point” that I’m comfortable with. To move to a different set point in my health is going to take major adjustments. It was also then that I stopped trying - in other words, I quit. 

Truth be told,

 with just a few days left,

 I’m making my way through

 a pint of Ben and Jerry’s

 “Everything But The” ice cream,

 which is most definitely

 not allowed on the plan. 

After two years of consistently making it into the gym 3-5 times a week and training with weights I am no longer a girl who “struggles with her weight.” My sense of my body’s needs is still somewhat based on who I was, not who I’ve become. 

I could probably cut down on my consumption of chocolate and peanut butter, but I work out hard and drink lots of water. I try to eat lots of fruits and veggies and I get creative with the food I feed my family. I’m not a competitive athlete, but I am a mom who can carry both her kids at once and can bust out 100 pull ups when a workout calls for it.

Yes, I actually have done 100 pull ups.

And I’m not afraid to tell you

 how awesome it makes me feel!

The best part about my expensive flop is that I gained a much more accurate sense of who I am NOW. So, when it comes to the next offer for a vitamin pack, or when I’m tempted to make major adjustments to my diet, I hope I remember that a world of good will come from simply eating an extra serving of veggies and getting an additional hour of sleep. 

The other reason I often don’t finish things is that once I start them I realize that the end result/goal is not as important as I thought it was. Or, that the effort that is required to see something all the way through will be more than the benefit I will receive from finishing.

To illustrate...

Imagine you decide it would be cost effective and incredibly cool to make your own coconut milk yogurt instead of paying close to $2 per serving at the health food store. 

Then, imagine that to undertake this task you purchase a yogurt maker.

Then you find some recipes.

Then you make some yogurt because everyone says it is so easy and the most delicious thing you will ever eat.

Then you taste your yogurt and it is neither delicious nor actually yogurt - it is more of a warm, white soup that turns into cold, white soup after you refrigerate it. 

So then you do some more research and make a second attempt.

Second verse, same as the first.

Soup.

So, the yogurt maker goes in the garage, joining the collection of rejected small kitchen appliances. 

Because really, how many attempts should you make before you say, homemade yogurt is just not worth it?

I have a lot of unfinished business revolving around small kitchen gadgets. Other frequent visitors to my dusty shelves of “good ideas...but...” are heath food trends, craft projects, celebrations, and ambitious home organization (I get just far enough to make a huge mess, and then never get around to the final, clean and tidy part). 

Now that I’ve identified my tendency to pile up projects, I’ve been able to find some good in the midst of it. In all of my enthusiast starts and weak finishes I’ve discovered a few ways to NOT finish well.

Trust me on these, I’ve left a lot of things un-done.

Smile

Having a mountain of unfinished projects in the closet can be a little embarrassing. But the reality is, if they didn’t get finished, they probably aren’t life-changing. Let yourself be teased and acknowledge that yes, you actually don’t get everything done that you start.

Count the Cost

If you are like me, you love the idea of a package. 

I love things that come in a set, or that look pretty upon purchase. I’m a sucker for marketing and have a long list of key words that practically guarantee that I’ll whip out my wallet. 

To say that I’ve wasted money on good intentions is an understatement. However, while I know that most of us don’t WANT to waste money, I’ve found myself in a season of life that my budget isn’t terribly tight. For me that means that leaving projects unfinished isn’t going to break my bank account. 

If you are going to give up something essential to start a project you might not finish - don’t do it. The joy of unfinished projects is letting them stay unfinished without guilt - you can’t do that if you know bills didn’t get paid AND your good intentions didn’t bear fruit.

Keep Starting 

For all the things that I have begun, but not seen to the end, their are a handful of projects, hobbies and undertakings that I HAVE finished and they have become treasures to me.

If I thought of myself exclusively as someone who “fails” because I don’t finish, I would most likely miss out on many wonderful experiences. I might save some money or avoid some teasing, but my life would lack richness. 

There will be many, many, many more times that I start and don’t finish. But, if there are a few finishes that add beauty and character and charm to my life, then all of those starts are worth something.

My name is Emily, and I’m proud to be a starter.

Two Years

I had a bit of a shock this morning as I walked past my front-room window. I was running back into the house for one last thing before driving off to my morning CrossFit class.

I did a double take as I neared the door.

Oh my gosh!

I'm wearing spandex.

Please understand, I knew what I was putting on this morning.

I knew because every night I look at the workout for the next day and decide what pieces of my workout wear will give me the best chance of success.

Today we did a lot of lifting our legs- so I couldn't wear shorts or a skirt. I hate thinking that someone can see more of me than I want them to!

But we were also doing a lot of jumping, so I couldn't wear pants because I trip on them while I jump.

Skintight capris it is!

But when I walked past the window, I was suddenly aware of how far I have come.

Prior to starting CrossFit I had only dabbled in fitness. I wasn't opposed to it, I just didn't really work hard to make it a part of my life.

But from the very first affirmation I got from my coach of, "good work today" to learning to do pull ups (yes I can do them!), I have thrived on the duality of feeling accomplished and also feeling like there is always more to learn.

I have been doing CrossFit now for two years.

I can do a pull up.

I can't do a push up.

I have hit major milestones every couple of months.

I have also groaned and held back tears on many occasions as I am all too aware of my limitations.

But through all the ups and downs, I have discovered wonderful things about what I can do.

Today, my spandex reminded me that I indeed am capable of so much. I dreaded the workout I saw posted today, but I did it any way, and did it well.

That is what I love about CrossFit.

That I do it.

I do it even when it is hard.

Even when I complain about it.

Even when it is inconvenient, I do it.

I haven't been writing much, because most of what I think about is making dinner and making it to the gym. It doesn't exactly seem like trilling blog talk, but today, I realized how much a part of me this has become.

I'm just going to say it.

I love CrossFit.

...I wonder if I will become a CrossFit blogger? A little too over the top and into the cult? Perhaps. But I'm already in - I might as well make the most of it!

Why "I think, therefore I am" is not an effective parenting philosophy

Next week I have an exciting adventure planned.

I will be boarding a plane and heading back to the homeland.

For me, that means the gorgeous and drizzly state of Washington.

Since moving to Arizona, we have been back a few different times. What makes this journey so thrilling is that I will be traveling alone.

My brave and capable husband is sending me off for some much needed rest and girly conversation.

I anticipate missing my men, but let me tell you, the prospect of seven days with not a single child needing anything from me sounds like bliss.

Most of our kids are on Spring Break

and that means that they

are home all day and hover around me

as if I am some delicious cookie

that they want to devour.

I constantly feel at risk of being consumed

by their eagerness and desire to be

close to me.

Especially in the kitchen.

Our kitchen is TINY.

But everyone loves it.

Andy has become a kitchen bouncer this break.

He walks in and when I am standing at the stove,

with four children flanking me,

he walks in and commands that everyone leaves.

Then there is a sigh of being able to move without

the potential of running into a child

with a hot pan or sharp knife.

Until they all drift back in.

As hard as it is to be so wanted,

it also reminds me of exactly why we do this job.

Just being able to hang out in the kitchen with "mom"

heals wounds and builds confidence

for the kids who live with me.

They need to be close.

They need to be close much more than I need space.

(Most of the time)

Andy always rescues me before my needs get the best of me

and I forget to be careful with my

charges.

Today a very dear friend of mine was texting me. We have been previewing the areas we are looking forward to catching up on and laying the groundwork for some long conversations.

We had been talking about making the gym part of our life... and she followed up a victory comment about successful childcare with a comment that so deeply resonated with me.

Her message said this:

"One of the things I need to talk to you about is that terrible insecurity and guilt that I'm not doing enough as a mother..."

There was more to the question, but I honed in on the feeling of guilt.

I told Andy over dinner, I don't expect that he will ever understand the role that guilt plays in my life. He just doesn't feel guilt the same way I do. And I'm pretty sure that is a normal man-woman difference.

But for my friend, I absolutely understand what she means.

It seems that every action as a mother not only has an opposite and equal reaction - but also a measure of guilt.

If we build strong parameters for our children, we feel guilty for being too ridged and fear stifling their creativity.

If we embrace the personality of our child and give them room to explore and express themselves, we feel guilty about not having more control over their behavior.

Guilt over food.

Guilt over television.

Guilt over discipline.

Guilt over leaving them with a babysitter. Or over not leaving them with anyone...

I have written about this feeling before.

This topic of mom-guilt is growing in my awareness.

Truth be told, I feel a bit like a doctor. I see a sickness that is running rampant and as of now has no known cure, but I am setting out to find one.

I don't want the women I love to live weighted down by insecurity and fear or by the heaviness of guilt that presses out the joy and strength and authority that we need to be successful as mothers.

So I'm pondering. I'm praying. I'm looking for a new way of living.

And what I realized tonight is that just because we FEEL guilty doesn't mean we ARE guilty.

For myself, I realize that I very easily mistake the two. The instant I feel like I've missed something or made a poor choice, guilt isn't just a sensation, it becomes a definition of who I am.

But that isn't how it works.

Guilt - we are talking in terms of mothering here. Not stealing or harming someone. This is the shapeless guilt that comes from being unsure where we rank and whether or not we are being the very best mom for the kids we love so much - this kind of guilt is a thought.

And we know from God's word that we can take every thought captive.

For example.

I really like ice cream.

I mean, I REALLY like ice cream.

If I ate ice cream every time I thought, "Oooohhh, ice cream sounds good," I would not be a healthy person.

I know that my fondness for ice cream is okay, as long as I keep my indulgence of it in check.

So now, imagine that many times a day I think, "I should have read another story to Joey."

"I should have not given in and let Jack eat marshmallows before lunch."

"I shouldn't have..." "I wish I was more..." "I'm not doing a good job at..."

These thoughts are going to come.

They are going to find a way into my mind.

But just because they are there doesn't mean I have to indulge them.

I am not guilty.

I am a mother.

Even if I perfected the art of mothering (which is impossible by the way) I imagine that I would still find something to worry over.

The reality is that mothering is a huge job with really significant implications.

Sometimes the significance of the implications overwhelm us and what starts as concern for our children grows wildly out of control to the point that it ends up controlling us.

To live as a guilty person sucks you dry. It drains the energy from your movements and makes any attempt at moving forward feel like pushing a stone up a hill.

If you are living guilty, the way out seems almost impossible because what you feel has become who you are.

But let me say it again, you are not guilty.

Guilt brings nothing of value to your mothering. It doesn't help your children or foster security and peace in your home.

What you wish for and aspire to as a mother will not come by feeling more guilt.

So stop.

Remember that when you think you are guilty, you have the power to lay that thought down and pick up a new one.

You are caring.

You are capable.

You are creative.

You are ... fill in the blank. What are you to your children? What are you as a woman?

Instead of mentally rehearsing all the things you are not as a mother, start reminding yourself of what you ARE.

You will not be everything.

But you will be enough.

Where in your mothering is guilt robbing you of your energy, joy and authority?

And more importantly, what are you going to do about it?

Just as it is sometimes hard to resist ice cream, there will be days that guilt gets the better of you. But don't go overboard. If it helps you to think in the terms of food - put yourself on a guilt diet.

Go for a few days without giving into guilt and see how light you feel!

The task is not easy, I know. Especially since in our culture guilt is sold as part of the package of becoming a mother. But return that part of the package and go pick out something prettier. Pick out some enthusiasm, some confidence, some rest or some security.

You are a mom, yes.

But there is no reason for you to be a guilty mom.

Remember, what you FEEL is not the same as who you ARE.

Panties... Again

Do you know that horrible sinking feeling when you rush to get ready for the day, and about eight hours later - when you eventually find yourself in front of a mirror, you discover that you have had the most awkward panty line ALL DAY...

Or,

If you find when you come home from, oh, EVERYWHERE, after the gym and you take off your black gym pants to discover that there is a gaping hole in the backside and that your red, red, red panties have been displayed to the universe...

In case you didn't guess,

this happened.

Two weeks ago.

Horrible, horrible discovery!

Or,

When you thought you learned your lesson about talking about panties on a blog, but you continue to do it anyway...

Do you know that feeling?

Actually,

that last one has nothing

to do with that same feeling.

I'm just pointing out the same fact

that you will all notice,

that I should have learned my

lesson already,

but haven't.

Well, I've had that same shivering, heavy, blushing feeling in my stomach for the last two days.

Except the sensation is coming from something much more significant than issues with undergarments.

I've been wearing something that doesn't fit.

Not clothing, but an idea.

When I picked up this idea, this way of thinking, it seemed like the right size.

But just like those pants with a hole in them, this belief has left me exposed.

Today, I discovered that I don't have the slightest idea who Jesus is.

I've loved God and given him a lot of significance in my life, for a very long time.

I am very good at being very Christian.

But today, I realized that while I love God, I have been loving and serving and surrendering to a very secular, and very wrong feeling about who God is.

Here is my problem. My panty line if you will.

I assume God has limited resources.

I put on this idea about God, and try and fit my life smoothly over it.

But the idea is too tight. It doesn't fit. The rest of my life looks bulky and bumpy and ugly, trying to rest over that understanding of God.

When I believe that God has limited resources, I don't ask him for much.

I, the generous and people-pleasing soul that I am, try and ease God's burden.

I think, "I won't ask for much, because God has to save his energy for people who REALLY need it."

I will work really hard, and be really good, so that God doesn't have to do much to keep my life going, after all, he is awfully busy.

The problem is, living that way doesn't require any faith.

It doesn't build relationship.

Or joy.

Or hope.

Or passion.

The idea that God is limited and that my job on this earth is to be one less person who requires something of him is not only ridiculous, it is WRONG.

There is nothing small about God.

There is nothing limited in him.

Quite the opposite.

God is OVERFLOWING.

What happens to my world if instead of trying to make God's load lighter, I begin to recognize his power and ability and DESIRE to pour out on me, and through me to the world?

Well...

The answer is that ANYTHING can happen.

If I begin to believe what the bible says about Jesus and his relationship to his father, and his good gift of the Holy Spirit, then suddenly I have to believe that when the bible says he is able to do more than we can ask or imagine... it really means he is able!

If I ask him to do more that I imagine, and I only imagine an average, uneventful life - sure, God can do more than that. I could have a pleasant and comfortable life.

But what if I asked God for something big?

Am I willing to believe that he could... WOULD... do even more than big?

I met an incredible man this weekend. He prayed joyfully and fearlessly for healing for people around me. Some people were healed, some were not. He said people always ask him, "What if you pray and nothing happens." When asked this question he responded energetically, "What if it DOES?!"

I've been walking around with my insecurities and fears bulging out of what I've thought about who God is. I have been prancing around, swinging my opinions, thinking everything fit, only to discover that my ideas and understanding are unflattering and ill-fitting, leaving me exposed.

Exposed to more fear, more insecurity, more foolishness.

So I'm changing my clothes.

I'm putting on something that fits.

God is not only good, he is able.

He has no lack.

And I am made in his image.

He has instructed me to ASK.

So from here out, I'm going to ask, and I'm going to ask big.

Ask for healing, ask for miracles, ask for favor and joy...

And in case you are getting worried,

I don't want to

"name it and claim it,"

and I don't really have a deep conviction

that I DESERVE

to have over-flowing bank accounts.

Those images

have probably

had something to do with

my retreat from believing

that God is abundant...

I don't want to be that

(greedy, self-promoting, entitled),

so I responded by

not asking for anything...

Stop for a moment.

Where have you been afraid to "bother" God?

What question have you wanted to ask, but haven't felt like it ranks on the list of REAL needs?

What would happen if you asked God TODAY to fulfill that desire in your heart?

You say, "But what if I ask and God doesn't answer?"

To which I respond to you dear friend,

WHAT IF HE DOES?

Pray big.

Heads Up!

Let's clear one thing up before we get started, shall we?

This isn't a real post. This is a thinly veiled attempt at "blogging" but it is really just a way to get pictures that I really enjoy to people that mean something to me, rather than bored FaceBook browsers...

But I plan to post that I blogged on FaceBook so...

It's a wash.

Bottom line, don't expect much witty blog banter or deep mothering thoughts from this one.

Moving on...

I have recently checked off one of my bucket list items.

Actually, I haven't made a bucket list, but if I were to do such a thing, this would have been on it.

I, modest mouse that I am, gathered my courage and sat for a pinup photo shoot.

I LOVE the 40s and 50s style. One of my new friends in Arizona has often lamented that I was born in the wrong era. After my experience with this photo adventure, I am inclined to agree.

There are a couple things you should know about that were weighing on my mind prior to the event:

1. I am not terribly fond of being photographed. I am inclined to enjoy my appearance as I see it in the mirror, and more days than not feel satisfied with the way I present myself to the world. But somehow, when I look at photos of myself, I look nothing like what I see in the mirror. In a very disappointing way.

2. I, along with most women, fear bathing suits and much prefer fancy wraps and floaty cover-ups when dressing for the beach or pool.

3. I have never worn red lipstick.

It is a very good thing that my brave friend Robyn flew to visit me, expressly for the purpose of a journey back in fashion times. She was a great moral booster and cheered me one while I held endless poses that I'm ashamed to say made my legs shake from exertion. I would have hate to have posed with out a year of Crossfit under my belt!

If given the chance, I will gush about the sitting. Everything was delightful. Thrilling really. I'm warning you, don't give me the chance!

But let's cut to the chase.

The pictures.

Look at the colors!

Look at the lips!

Look at my legs!!

Actually,

when I picked up my prints

I confessed to the photographer

that I had a hard time believing

that she hadn't cut and pasted

somebody else's legs on my torso...

My unfriendly thoughts about

my bottom half have been the slowest to resolve...

But she assured me that with proper posing

anybody can have great legs!

Lesson learned.

But mostly, let's talk about the hair.

That is not my hair. That is a wig.

The wigs were my favorite, favorite part of the whole day (we were there for more than four hours).

First we picked out our outfits. How I ended up in a bathing suit beats me, but I just put it on and didn't want to take it off. (Not even for a stunning mauve party dress. You can expect those pictures when I schedule my next sitting!)

Then make up.

And finally wigs.

The whole thing felt sort of silly until she plopped the first wig on my head. Then it was like I was a whole new person. Like I could change myself with every flip of the wig. It was magic I tell you!

We tried tons... a long red one, a short blond one, curly, straight, all shades of brown...

I loved it so much that I am fairly certain I am going to purchase a wig or two and wear them on a regular basis. Just because the joy of wigs is a secret that should no longer be kept!!

I have a slight confession to make. A few days after the shoot, I had planned to go to bed early, but I started looking at wigs online and I gazed from page to page, review after review, until I got a headache. I think I probably looked at wigs for about three hours that night.

Obsessed.

I am aware.

The only solution is to buy a wig. I know it!

So, if the next time you see me I am no longer sporting my pixie cut, or have suddenly gone Marilyn Monroe blond... you can give me a little wink and we can smugly smile to each other thinking, "Aren't wigs incredible!?"

Actually, you will probably be thinking, "Emily is out of her mind." But I will be happily ignorant of that and strut around confidently in my purchased hair.

I can't wait!