Grandmother and Grandfather’s Day. Dzien Dziadek i Babcia.

little red riding hood

“In America, all you would do is make a card for your grandma and grandpa,” stated my daughter.

This came about when we were having a conversation about whether or not she was glad to be back in Poland.

Two days ago, her class performed Little Red Riding Hood, the play, did two dances, and sang multiple songs for the grandpas and grandmas in the audience.

My daughter gave up a visit to the States so that she could be there for this special day, even though her grandparents were thousands upon thousands of miles and an ocean and a continent away in Arizona and California respectively.

You have to understand, my daughter feels Polican, as she says. Polish and American, and she speaks Pinglish. For Polish and English.

We are so above and beyond grateful to God that she feels this way. We have instilled in her the utmost to bloom where planted, and we are planted by God in the country of Poland.

And, for that very reason, my daughter attends Polish school and participates in all celebrations that Poland holds dear. We love her school and all that it does.

You need to understand, as well, that our daughter’s school is extremely small. It is a K-8th grade school that had its gymnasium built by the European Union, and, until this past fall, had absolutely no playground.

Before the playground was built, my daughter was asked by some friends and family what she did during recess.

Well, the first thing you should know is that my daughter does not technically have recess. She has 5-minute breaks between her 45-minute classes. Otherwise, her school day is only the hours that she has class.

That can mean that her “school day” is for 3 hours one day or 5 hours on her longest day—and that is only because she goes in for a 45-minute session of PSL (Polish as a Second Language). Otherwise her school day is 4 hours.

At first, such short days were huge adjustments. But as the year went on, we have grown to really love the short school days. It gives us an opportunity to enroll Adelyne in multiple activities but it doesn’t take us until bedtime to complete them.

This is what she participates in during the typical week:

Mondays—horse lessons and swimming.  This is her late night.

Tuesdays—nothing but play.

Wednesdays—French lessons and then we swing by our office where she has her “library”

Thursdays—Nothing but play with her best friend!  Thursdays she only has 3 hours of school.

Fridays—Dance after school.  At the school.  Very convenient and she loves it (it is an outside company that comes in)

Youth group is a Friday night event.

Anyhow—back to the recess question.  Adelyne was asked, “What do you do during recess since you don’t have a playground?”  She responded, “We run and jump and skip!”

I loved that.  Even in simplicity, children find great joys.  Sometimes I believe that we try to incorporate too much (I am just as guilty as the next) into their lives when all children really need is dirt.  And like we all heard growing up, “Dirt don’t hurt!”

This week as we celebrated the grandparents that were able to attend, I thought of the spectacular assembly the teachers prepared and the students prepared for and I realized—this was very special.  So special that it would not have taken place in the States.

First of all, to be very fair, in the States, most people don’t even live near their grandparents.  Very few people live where they were born in the States.  That is just the reality there.  In fact, people will gladly move where they will find work.  Even if it means hours upon hours away from their families.

In Poland, people tend to live (generally speaking it is still very true to this day) where they were born.  Therefore, they have large amounts of relatives right nearby—including grandparents.  Poland has yet to become a very transient society.  Yes, many migrate outside of Poland for work.  But, for those Poles remaining in Poland, a very large population still live very near in proximity to where they were born.

This is EXTREMELY evident at Dzien Dziadek i Babcia.  The auditorium was FILLED with grandparents.  It was such a blessing to see.

Having a daughter that lives thousands upon thousands of miles away from her grandparents, I loved that as I glanced around at the event, there was a sea of elderly faces and hair of wisdom.  And oh my!  They were all dressed up to a T and just as proud as could be as they watched their posterity perform just for them.

It was really special.

And Adelyne got to experience it because we are in Poland.

Oh—and dance in it!

So, today, I give to you my daughter in a super adorable dance that she got to participate in for Grandparents Day in Poland.

Her stats on the day of this event:  Adelyne Marguerite; age 8; 3rd Class; Grandparents’ Day Celebration ballerina (in the light pink skirt).  Enjoy!

If you are a grandpa or grandma, no matter where you are in the world, we celebrate you!




Here is the link to dance number 2:

American Ninja Warrior—Love that show!

Okay, seriously. I have absolutely no idea how long American Ninja Warrior has been around. BUT I did discover it this past summer when my kids and I were staying at my sister’s house while my husband was working in Poland.

And not only did I see it—I quickly got. What’s that word? Oh, yeah. ADDICTED to it.

It was so fun and suspenseful and JUST PLAIN exciting to watch.

It was as if I was the mom of the competitors. I nearly bit my nails watching them attempt or complete their runs.

I think there were even a few times that I actually jumped out of my seat or yelled out loud.

It, IT being American Ninja Warrior, is seriously one of the best shows I have ever seen on TV—reality or non-reality TV.

After that introduction, I now encourage you to see my childhood friend and his audition tape for the show.

First of all, you should know that he is practically one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. And his wife is simply stunning. And their children are as cute as can be. In fact, when we were both newlyweds, we lived in the same apartment complex—and then later our daughters were in the same grade at the same school.

It is a fun world sometimes, that is for sure!

With all of that said—his tape is awesome—and it would be awesome to sit on the side of my couch watching him compete for American Ninja Warrior.

Now I encourage you—sit back, watch his audition tape, and let’s just hope that he gets chosen.  Then we all can cheer Chad on as he competes for American Ninja Warrior.

That would be super fun.

I am pretty sure that you would agree.


Here’s the link:  American Ninja Warrior_Chad Brower

I forgot to feed my daughter. And we sent her to a counselor.


Living in a different country, in a village, where hardly any English is spoken is a bunch of fun. Especially when you forgot the differences of the beginning of the school year.

Things that are quite important like…

Oh, packing your daughter’s lunch for her.

You see. I forgot that they don’t start serving school lunches the first day of school. I even made sure to tell my husband, “Richard, make sure to go and pay for school lunches so Adelyne will have money on her account.”

So, Richard went to pay for lunches. The lunch lady said, “Oh, no worries. Pay by September 15th.”

And we thought, “Wow. What a relaxed country. How nice!”

Little did I remember (until well past lunch time) that they don’t serve school lunches that day.

AHHHH! Well, good thing I packed Adelyne a cookie to snack on. Oh, and Smarties because, after all, it was the first real day of school and I wanted to remind her to be a “Smarty”. Smarties are like M&Ms. Therefore, technically, she did have two things to eat. Both sugary. But I guess sugar worked well enough. She made it through the day 😉 And, yes, she came home HUNGRY.

To make it up to her, I had bought her favorite French pastries for her arrival home…apple! She was so happy to see them and devoured them quickly.

But forgetting her lunch was not all. Somehow, lost in translation, was the fact that she would need PE clothes to change in and out of.  She did, however, change her shoes from outside shoes to hallway shoes.

So, let me set this all straight:

She was the only student that did not have a lunch.

She also was the only student that did not change clothes after PE.

And she was the only student that DID change her shoes from outside shoes to hallway shoes back to outside shoes.

That’s it.  Three strikes.  We definitely struck out.

But in spirit and adventure and smiles, we still won.  Adelyne came home completely happy to have been at school and back amongst her friends in Poland.

Now for the counselor…

Before we returned to Poland, my husband and I were completely breathless, having near panic attacks, worried about Adelyne’s return to Poland.  After all, we had been living in the beautiful and glorious USA for the past year and a half.  That’s a very long time for a child.  Especially when you go from 1st grade to 3rd grade.  The maturity at 8 that was not there at 6 is astounding.  Her entire being is different now.  And school in Polish.  Eek!  The language is so difficult.

And, so, we, trying to be and ahead of the game parents, decided to set up a back-to-Poland counseling appointment.  Hoping that it would be 1 of 3 appointments.

We met with the counselor and spoke to her about our concerns and told her about Adelyne.  She was extremely perceptive.  Probably a great trait in a counselor, eh?  And we scheduled the time for her to meet one-on-one with the counselor.

Adelyne was told that she was going to meet a lady that she could share openly with her feelings about returning to Poland, or anything else that laid heavy on her heart.

She seemed okay with it.  So off we went.

Now, here’s the funny part, the lady that we sent Adelyne to is specifically a counselor for children.  She has toys and crafts and art supplies galore in her office so that the children can play and talk at the same time, keeping the atmosphere very safe for them.

Well, Adelyne decided to sit on the couch across from her and speak the entire time.  You see, Adelyne was an only child for 6 and 1/2 years.  And for that entire time, she has helped us build a foundation for the poor in Poland.  Meaning, she has spent the majority of her life in meetings or doing grown-up stuff.

The counselor was funny.  She said, “It’s the first time a child has sat on the couch the entire counseling session.  It made me a bit uncomfortable.”

Haha.  A piece of the counselor’s own medicine—being on the other side of the couch, eh?   (But I say that in respectful love because I truly believe greatly in good and Godly counseling and hold the utmost respect for the counselor herself)

Back to the counseling session.  Adelyne shared a lot.  The counselor after spoke with me about what was said and her advice on how Richard and I could help with the transition back to Poland.  Overall, it was a beautifully great and helpful session.

And with everything in my being, I had intended to take Adelyne in for 2 more sessions before our move back to Poland.

One session to address the difficulties Richard and I had in our marriage the past year that she was witness to.

The next how she felt when Maxwell was sick (Our son is a NICU and then later an ICU, blood transfusion, and coma survivor).

So, you see, there is a lot that a little 8 year old could share with a counselor.  And I had really wanted to get her back…

But life got in the way of my best intentions.  My husband was once again out of the country for a month.  I was packing and moving a house without him.  My daughter had daily dive lessons.  And I have 2 wee ones that were even wee-r at the time (if there is such a word).

All of this means we did not get back to the counselor despite my heart telling me it was so needed.

And then we went and did it.  Moved back to Poland.  And we began to settle back into our lives of living in a foreign country and all that entails (which is  lot on its own).

Happy, happy, happy has my daughter been.  And then it hit!


Maxwell, our son, had a horrible allergic reaction to something.  His face swelled up, his eye was swelling closed, the red was creeping along his neck.

He looked horrible, felt horrible, and I began to panic.

Can he breathe?  What happened?  Did he touch something?  Did he eat something?

And then something even worse happened.

My daughter lost it.  She just sat there and cried and cried and cried.

I felt for her, but, at the moment, we had to take care of Maxwell (and the regime that comes with a horrible allergy attack) and then monitor him closely for about 20 minutes with our epi pens right next to us.  We were debating, do we call my brother, a fire captain and paramedic?  Do we call our brother-in-law, a doctor?  Do we call the Polish emergency number 1-1-2?  Do we ride it out?

Who knows if we made the best choice, but we made a choice that we felt was best.

And while Maxwell slowly started to improve, Adelyne started to dis-improve.  She melted.  Literally melted.

She climbed in my lap like a small child would and crumpled against my chest.  No matter how many times we tried to assure her that Maxwell was fine, she seemed unable to breathe peacefully.

And that’s when I got to the heart of her panic.

Laying flat against my chest with her legs curled up into my lap she said through her tears, “Do you know what it’s like to have your brother almost die on you?”

No.  She wasn’t talking about his allergy attack (as severe as it was), she was talking about when no one knew if Maxwell was going to live or die when he was a baby.

In the midst of something sad but not so extraordinary (although I don’t take allergic reactions lightly, especially with my nutty son), the past came back in a rush to my daughter, and I could tell the future will continue to hold a lot of healing.

And while we have epi pens for our son Maxwell, dealing with the heart of Adelyne may require a different kind of medicine.  Called time.  Love.  And lots of hugs.

Now, to end on a funny note.  As Adelyne was super sentimental about Maxwell’s horrible allergy reaction, she just wanted to cuddle her precious baby brother.

Max, on the other hand, kept kicking her away and tackling her and shouting, “Noooooo!”

Yes.  This did eventually make the waterworks worse.

But, truly, isn’t that what brothers are for?!


One Year…Really?


Well, it’s been quite the ride. I’m a year into blogging, which probably means that I’m not new at it anymore.

I still feel a bit new at it. On a windy road.  Not really going any one direction.

But I’m trying.

Sometimes they’re pretty decent.

Sometimes they’re pretty boring.

Sometimes I think that I shouldn’t have written them at all.


Oh well.

All I have actually enjoyed writing, and I hope that you have enjoyed reading.

This past year has been a really rocky and great one all wrapped into one.  Richard and I have watched our family go from 4 to 5.  And we’ve changed our mailing address back to Poland.

We had the immense privilege of living in the United States amongst our family for the past year.  And now we have the immense privilege of living, once again, in Poland.  Amongst our “other” family.

There are so many emotions that came with moving back to Poland.   We left Poland after our son was stable enough to travel, at 6 months old.  I felt as if I couldn’t get out of the country fast enough.  It was such a heart-wrenching time in our lives, watching our second child struggle to live.  And yet it was one of the richest times in our lives.

How can watching your child struggle to live be rich?

The only way I can answer that is by saying watching our son nearly die brought us to our knees.  We re-evaluated our entire lives and realized that no matter the outcome in Maxwell’s life, we chose to honor and love God.

Now he is a little over 2 years old, and we are back in Poland.

It’s great to be back, but we do miss our beautiful families in America so much.

And my daughter does greatly miss American schools.  As she told a teacher that asked the other day, “In America, she gets to explore and discover!”  She loves her school here and friends, but it is a lot of sit at your desk and do workbooks.

Thankfully, however, she’s a child with an ever curious mind.  So we do a lot of explore and discover at home.

And she has additional classes at home, as well.

Did you know that she only goes to school 4 hours a day?  On Mondays-Wednesdays, her classes begin at 11:30 and end at 3:50.  On Thursdays and Fridays start at 8:00 and go until 12:15.

Teachers in Poland are paid by the hours that they teach.  We live in a village and the teacher’s at the school are paid for 45 minute sessions.  So after every 45 minutes, there is a 5-minute break.  There is no recess.

It’s a very different life.

But we’ve adjusted.  And outside of school she takes one additional hour of Polish, one hour of French and will begin one hour of music lessons.  Now I am looking for her an “active” activity to also do outside of school.

Oh, yeah.  Of course she is keeping up GRANDLY with her English.  I am actually quite proud of her.  She is a hard-working little gal.

And my other two.  Oh my other two, little Maxwell and Josephine.  They are soooo lovely.  Just plain lovely.

Maxwell is all two.  Blond.  Blue eyes.  Gorgeous and sweet (well, of course depending on his mood.  After all, he is two ;)).

And Josephine.  She just turned 8 months a day ago and is crawling like a professional, standing like a conductor, and trying to walk on furniture like a little daredevil.  Our newest little chub-a-love still retains the red tint to her hair, and I will be sad the day the red turns blond, like I see creeping below at the roots.

I love being a mom, and I soak up every moment throughout the day that I merely get to interact them.  Every moment is as if I have discovered a hidden treasure so valuable that it is inconceivable.  And, to me, being a mom is that inconceivable hidden treasure.

For every woman out there struggling with infertility, I feel your heart and your pain.  I feel your longing and your tears.  And I will simply say this—I pray that God will give you the very desires of your heart.  If they are not from your own womb, I pray for the children God delivers into your hands that come from your heart.  Oh how I pray for you!

And now, my dear And 2 Makes Crazy friends, I shall wrap up my rambling blog and say…Thanks for joining the And 2 Makes Crazy Ride.

Tomorrow I will post the top 10 blog postings from the last year, and other fun stuff.

I hope that you come back to check them out.

Much love from here to there.  Wherever you may be.

May God be your stalwart in your times of trouble.  If you are suffering, may he be your constant.  If you are in limbo, may he be your leveler.

And may He always bring you peace.  Peace and Joy.

Joy that surpasses all understanding.

All the time, God is good.

And I hope that you are well yourself.

xoxo b


What’s so special about YOU?


You know…We are special, right?

I mean, after all, my mom tells me I’m special.  My dad tells me I’m special.  My husband tells me I’m special.  My daughter, Adelyne, tells me one million times a day that I’m special.  She has even said that if I am the only present Santa brings to her this Christmas season, she is okay with that.

In fact, on another occasion, she has said, “I want Mommy to do it because Mommy is special.”

My husband inquired, “If Mommy is special, what am I?”

She answered, “Handsome.”

At least he left happy with her response.

But, let’s even think about this a bit more…

What is it that makes me special?  What is it that makes you special?

We figure out what makes us special.  We take tests that tell us how we are special.  We apply for jobs and talk about our “assets” that are so uniquely special the interviewer should toss all other resumes and immediately call us for work!

Yes.  Special, special, special!

I studied Special Education in college.  When I became a teacher and it was time for the awards ceremony at the end of the year, I realized that none of my students would ever receive a special award from the school based on the school’s criteria.  After all, the school demanded great grades, superb attendance, active participation in school functions/sports/clubs/so forth, wonderful behavior.  As the list went on and on and on I realized that not a single student of mine would meet any of that criteria.


Because—they were crack babies or FAS kids.  They suffered from brain damage or constant epileptic seizures.  They had such severe learning disabilities that they couldn’t even read or spell rat/cat/bat/fat in the 7th grade.  Some smelled so badly it was required they took showers upon entering school premises in the nurse’s office for their sakes.  And, to be honest, the behavior of many of them was more gangster than Dangerous Minds.

Yet, to me, each and every one was so extremely and uniquely special.  Don’t get me wrong.  Many afternoons when the school bell dismissed the swarm of teenagers, I sat behind my desk crying—amazed that I made it through another foul language-laced day filled with fights and security escorting students from my room.  There were even times I wondered if the student was going to or planning on harming me.

And, still, each and every student remained special.  Somehow, in some way, I was able to look beyond what they had become to what they could potentially have in store.  In a sense, I felt as if I was the only one at times to think this way.

So, when the school ceremony came, I asked that I award my students, too.  The administration didn’t even blink.  Maybe they were growing accustomed to my varying ways.  And, on that candle-filled night, I (with my other S.E. teacher) awarded 2 of our students with awards that we deemed worthy of them.

At the end of the evening, one mom came up to me crying.  Her daughter was often the source of frustration to so many and even more frequently forgotten or dismissed due to her very severe medical disability.  This award, however, showed her mom that someone cared.  Someone, besides her, cared about her daughter and also knew that her daughter could one day be or accomplish greatness, in her own life, to the best of her ability.

The other parent, a single dad of two teenage daughters, just was…He just was.  Silent.  Strong.  Proud.  His daughter’s learning struggles were intense.  Yet someone recognized that she was a star and had potential and could become someone, in her own right, someday.  His lack of words spoke enough that no words were actually needed.

This…what I just wrote…this is how we at our foundation/fundacja Bread of Life feel about each and every person we work with through our foundation.

It’s not even that we feel it.  It’s that we know it.  If we look beyond what they have become and instead look at what they can become, then their futures are so bright.  In fact, so bright that we all better wear shades!

We have an expression at Bread of Life, “Rescue Even One!”  The people we work with truly are special-it’s just no one ever took the time to tell them, to discover it, or to honor them for their lives.

Now, isn’t that sad?  I think so.

What makes you special???  Perhaps it’s your willingness to help someone else realize they are special, too.

Related Articles:

Lying on the Street in Waste:

I Once Lit a Homeless Man’s Only Sweater on Fire:

The Day that Santa Died:


This article was originally written for our foundation on our now defunct blog page.  Our new foundation’s page is — Please check it out and help us Rescue the Forgotten!

Isn’t this what life is all about?


Well, my daughter had been complaining about not feeling good for two days.  She’s not normally a complainer, but I dismissed it as emotions drained by her daddy being away for the last 3+ weeks.

Oops.  I took her temp.  No, it wasn’t through the roof, but it was 100F.

She told me later that at school every time she took a step her head felt dizzy and she thought she was going to fall.

Can we say, “Mom Fail”?

I can.

To top it off, my son…my wonderfully jovial son…only had a 1-hour-nap because I went and got my nails and toes done.  You know—so I could look pretty for my husband’s return.

Can we say, “Mom Fail”?

I can.

But, by golly, we were going to make it to the portrait studio to take photos as a surprise for Richie’s return.


Adelyne doesn’t get out of school until well after 4 on Thursdays because she is in an awesome club for writing/theater.

So, I scooped her up, dragged her home.  She’s complaining the entire way she doesn’t feel well and she’s freezing—ummm…It’s like 105F, girl.  Get a grip!

As soon as we get home, she climbs under the covers.

I succumb and take her temp.  Oops.  Low grade.  That’s okay, I’ll Motrin her up, baby!

Max—he hasn’t slept at all (well, an hour is not much for him).  He’s crying.  Trying to get an outfit on him is pure torture, and his hair…For crying out loud, his hair was like the end of the world!

But I finally got his Mohawk.

I threw my daughter in a dress and pulled her messy school hair in a bun…Poor girl had to scarf down cheesy crackers while I tried non-gallantly to pull my hair back.

Thankfully my mom was there to help and drove so that I could apply make-up in the car.

On the way, Max slept.  Adelyne played my phone—a HUGE deal because we don’t do electronics during the school week.

I was certain the photo shoot was going to be glorious.

At the studio, both children were now calm and happy.  And I was so proud to see my 15-month-old playing at the Lego table with his sister.  What a big boy!  How he’s grown.  Look at him play.

I didn’t realize that same table would also become the enemy.  As soon as the photographer called our names, we picked Maxwell up to take the photos and all Lego Hell broke loose.  He started screaming.  He started crying.  He started throwing himself on the floor.

We tried bribing him with Legos on the floor.  Adelyne and I could do the posing.  But no…

He EVEN fell off a chair trying to clamber on it in hopes of chaining himself to the Lego table.

I used to be a Lego fan…

Well, now we have a bruise on his forehead and his eye and a screaming kid.  If only we can get ONE picture.  Just one.

Miraculously, one photo was snapped where he was physically drained and clasped my finger and put his head against my leg.  That was it.  It was as if his 15-month-old brain said, “You got your one…I’m outta here.”

And we never got him back.  We lost him to Legos.

All was well, Adelyne, Belly Josephine, and I had fun the rest of the shoot—80 photos worth!

80 photos and only 1 decent one with my son…BUT…1 priceless one with his desperate attempt at escape.  See him crawling on the floor to get away from us?

Of course, as soon as the session was over, it was as if the Lego table did not exist.  He ran around with a giant grin that stretched from ear to ear.  He gave me High 5 and his Nana kisses.

Max was back.

But Life…Ahhh, Life.  Isn’t it really like this?  Never as you envision or expect.

Life.  Full of disastrous surprises that sometimes make for picture-perfect reminders of a little thing called Reality.

Just like this photo.


In case you missed the original photos, here they are:

The Christmas mullet…what a shame!

Business in the front…Party in the back!

That’s my daughter, baby!

It’s August.  Why would you write a blog about The Christmas Mullet? You may ask.

Well.  I figured August was the PERFECT time.  After all, there are moments in life when you REALLY, REALLY, REALLY want your children to look good.  No.  Scratch that.  Not good-GREAT!

Christmas is definitely one time.

And back to school another.

Both perfect times for memorable photos.  You know, the photos that actually make it into the photo album.  The moments that you actually cherish…forever!

I figured, since most children were getting ready to go back to school-or just went-it’d be the perfect time for a little seasonal humor.

What you have to remember are three things:

1.  We live in Poland

2.  They eat a lot of soup in Poland

3.  They especially celebrate Christmas Eve

And so it happened.  It was the evening before Wigilia.  Which means, December 23rd.  Poland is a very old country steeped in tradition.  And there is hardly a day bigger in Poland than December 24th itself.  Wigilia is The Day!

Everything is done for their Wigilia dinner to make it just traditionally perfect!  And, oh, it is quite lovely.

So, before we get to Adelyne’s Christmas Mullet, let me introduce you to a few Polish Christmas Eve (Wigilia) traditions.

Traditions include:

Linens on the table—crisp and white, often with hay/straw tucked underneath the tablecloth as a reminder of the birth of Jesus Christ in a humble manger.

An empty chair and place setting—a reminder that there was no room at the Inn for Mary and Joseph.  If a stranger happens by, they are welcomed in and given the chair.
(I haven’t heard of that happening yet, though, with any of our friends.  But the thought is lovely)

The children watch for the first star of the evening (to symbolize when Christ was born), the Gwiazdka.  And when the first star is seen, my favorite part of Wigilia takes place-the breaking of the oplatek (the Christmas wafer).

The wafer is then shared with those around you as you exchange beautiful wishes and love.  It is as heartwarming as it sounds.  Warm fuzzies to be sure.  Oooh.  And I forgot.  As you share the oplatki with those in the room, you get kisses too.  What fun!

In the homes we’ve attended for Wigilia, Luke 2:1-21 is read.  The head of home stands as he reads the Holy Scriptures.  It’s beautifully reverent.  After the reading, it’s time to pray and eat!

Oh the eating is soooo good!  12 meatless dishes are very traditional in Poland for Wigilia.  And when I say 12 meatless dinners, I should also say that 1 of those dishes is traditionally carp.  Want to know the fun behind that?  Some people buy the carp alive at the grocery store and keep it in their bathtub until it’s time to prepare said carp for the Wigilia meal.

Image *Woot-woot!  We had fun with that tradition.  Robert twas a good carp.*

After the meal, the Gwiazdor comes (Starman) and delivers presents!

And, of course, many koledy are sung (Christmas carols).

Perhaps this helped paint a picture of why I would have HOPED (obviously, flawed thinking to begin) that my daughter might just, for once in her life, TRY to avoid disaster for one day 😉

But, of course, her daddy HAD to serve her soup for lunch.

And what happened when she went in for her first bite of barszcz (borscht)???  Her hair fell into her soup.  Heaven forbid!  She couldn’t have that.  So she hopped right down from the table and went for her school supplies and, low and behold, found a miraculous pair of “fixers” aka scissors.  Where was daddy?  That’s the question that was heard around the world.

Let’s just say—her paper cutting skills were already bad.  Now you are witness to the fact that her hair cutting skills were even worse!

So, here it is, folks.  The evening of December 23rd.  I have a daughter with a mullet.  We have Polish Wigilia the next day.  Woe to me.  No Christmas card pictures this year!



Dun…dun..da…dun…Mullet time!

Perhaps, however, this mullet is FAR better than your average Christmas card anyway…

Like I quoted at the beginning…Business in the front.  Party in the back!  Although, from the looks of Adelyne’s mullet, she must have been going for the half business full party mullet.

Well, if that’s what she was going for, she succeeded!  Brilliantly.

Wesolych Swiat, my friends!  Wesolych Swiat!  (Merry Christmas)

Hope your 1st day of school pictures turn out a tad bit better…perhaps even mulletless.