It's about TIME!

Okay!
Alright, already!
I'm ON IT!
...FINALLY!
YOU ASKED!
YOU SHALL RECEIVE!

I'm a mother of not ONE, but TWO...REDHEADS (and a blonde...and two Haitian boys who are not home yet, but that's a post for my other blog).

My hair? 
Brown. 
My husband's hair? 
Brown. 

Yeah, yeah...we get the "milkman joke" all the time.  It's seriously funny the 10,000th time you've heard it.  And, I just LOVE answering the question, "Where'd they get the red hair from?"  Like I owe the gas station attendant an explanation about the genetics of my family?  I digress.  When my son, Tate, was born, I didn't know what I was getting myself into.  Thankfully, I have put his toddler years into the recesses of my brain.  All I can remember about that time period is that I called him "The Red Flash," and that time when he and my second daughter, Naomi, poured an entire (large) box of Rice Krispies all over the living room and were drumming the couch with glee as they flew through the air.  I cried.  My second child, Naomi, brought about a welcome change.  I thought she was so pleasant because she was a girl.  So easy-breezy a baby and toddler was she, that I actually began to think that maybe Tate had two "strikes" against him! 

One: He is a boy. 
Two: He is a redhead.

I had no circumstantial evidence to back my theory up, however, except that my friend, Ruth, also had a boy, who happened to have the most calm and compliant demeanor, thus supporting my theory that there's SOMETHING behind the RED!

Four glorious years of parenting The Red Flash and our sweet Naomi, and Tate finally came out of The Red Flash stage.  PHEW!  And THEN..."HONEY!!!  We're pregnant."  Except, it wasn't like that at all.  It was, "Oh sh*t!"  Sorry.  Just bein' real here.  After gaining 60+ pounds (I stopped counting when I tipped the scales at 200lbs, and was extremely thankful when my weight came in grams when I weighed in for my scheduled C-section), our little Darby was born.

The kid came out screaming.  I remember this scenario like it was yesterday.  The nurses said, "OH!  Look!  It's a little REDHEAD!!!"  I'm not proud of what went through my head at this point.

"OH, NO!!! NOT ANOTHER ONE!!!"

Darby was screaming out loud, while I was screaming on the inside. 
I knew what I was in for. 
...and I was right.

I have been known to say, "If you haven't parented a redhead, you haven't really parented."  At the risk of offending anyone, I fully recognize that the wild world of parenting is CHALLENGING to say the least.  I also fully recognize that parenting twins must be similar, in some regards, to parenting a redhead, and if God is so bold as to grace someone with TWIN REDHEADS, oh, dear me...that parent needs some serious prayer...and help!

OH, the stories you will hear about my "Little Red Pixie" will be glorious!  I will start from the beginning, and catch you up with all the mania that has encompassed the last two and a half years of my life...the triumphs, the frustrations, the failures.  I try to see what happens daily through the lens of humor, otherwise I'd have run far, far away by now.  Just know that if YOU do not react to a situation like I do, you are NOT A FAILURE!  YOU ARE NORMAL!  And, if you think I am a failure, you are wrong.  (wink, wink)