Last Friday, Jeremy surprised me with a gift certificate for a haircut and manicure at a local "spa-lon" because he knew how draggy I was feeling after spending four nights in a row up with Mercy. Here is my new hair style. (Ignore my allergy-swollen, sleep-deprived eyes.)

And lest you fear that my new glamorous-ness will go to my head. (I crack me up!) Let me share this story.

My stylish new haircut and red-painted nails inspired me to dig deeper into my closet for outfits that actually matched and didn't host spit-up spots. I paired a nice black shirt and a short khaki skirt with open-toed, silver-buckle enhanced, black heels, and I even painted my toenails red to match my fingers. Oh yes, I was feeling beautiful.

I prepared to leave Mercy and Liberty with Kimmie for a couple hours so that I could attend worship practice at church. While I stood at the door giving Kimmie last minute instructions, Liberty chose to cling to my leg, hoping to insure that I would not leave her. She began by cradling my foot, then she stood, raising my leg to her height. I balanced on one foot in my three inch heels while simultaneously ignoring Liberty, instructing Kimmie and hoping that I wasn't forgetting anything. This is the first time Kimmie has babysat since Mercy was born. To say I was distracted would be putting it mildly. Liberty soon began to run one finger up and down my leg. This continued for several minutes while I ignored her and continued talking, all the while my brain was watching the clock and plotting how I could disentangle myself from Liberty's stranglehold on my leg with the least amount of fuss. I put off the disentanglement too long, and I knew that I would be late for practice.

I glanced down to talk to Liberty who had set up shop between my legs, and that is when I noticed a purple marker in her hand. My first anxious thought was for my khaki skirt. Oh no! She looked like she was all set to begin her artwork. I desperately grabbed at the marker, one foot 24 inches off the ground, my hand stretched between my legs, holding on for dear life (well, maybe not for my life, but definitely for the life of my skirt) as Liberty began pulling away behind me. She had a death grip on that marker...but so did I.

I finally won, and I didn't fall! I turned so that Kimmie could see the back of my skirt, and I asked her, "Do you see any marks on it?" She told me everything was fine, and I quickly ran out the door.

Half-way through our practice, I noticed some stares being directed at my legs. I glanced down, and yes, I had bright purple stripes running up and down my right leg. What I thought was Liberty's finger had actually been that marker. I'm still not sure how Kimmie missed telling me about those streaks. Maybe some selective blindness?

One day, all of my girls are going to wake up with black mustaches on their faces, and I will gleefully announce, "Payback time!"