It Matters

When Jack started Kindergarten, I was super geeked out about buying his school uniforms.

Maybe it's because he's our first and by nature everything is a little more exciting the first time around the block. 

Or maybe I'm a real nerd and khakis and polos are my thing. 

It doesn't matter. I was just excited to dress my kiddo for school. 

About two months into Jack's kindergarten year, I was sitting in the car rider line watching some children when I noticed several of the students weren't wearing the approved school colors. 

As an avid Tarheel fan and Duke hater, shades of color (especially blue) really matter to me, so I thought maybe the school was fairly lenient on what "navy blue" meant as I watched a little boy walk past me in what can only be described as heavenly, Tarheel blue.

 (Note: He had swagger and looked intelligent.) 

(whoa...how'd that get in there?)

A few days later, a note came home in Jack's backpack reminding all of the parents what the approved school colors were.  Rats! My little Tarheel buddy had been outed! 

Except I continued to see him and other children not in dress code. 

Honestly, I remember thinking how lazy these parents must be not to just put the right color on their kids already. Were they just trying to stick it to the man?

How stupid of me. 

After continuing to receive these dress code reminders, letters concerning free and reduced lunch, Title One announcements, and reading a poster that hung in the front office about "Rights for Homeless Families", it dawned on me.  (finally)

While I was Back to School shopping with dorky glee, other families were sweating it out wondering how in the world they would dress their children in the mandatory school uniforms and colors.

Not because they were lazy or color blind. 

But because they could not afford them.

Because they relied on hand me downs.

Because they had to choose between polo shirts for their kids or their electric bill. 

Because they did scrounge up enough money to buy their son a new pair of pants for school and guess what? He grew! And now they're back to where they started. 

Please don't misread. I'm a BELIEVER when it comes to school uniforms. In addition to all of the academic and behavioral benefits, uniforms level the playing field for kids who would never own the latest style or fashion. They allow a child who might normally be embarrassed about their attire to CONFIDENTLY sit next to a child whose family could afford the contents of all six Jolie-Pitt kids. 

Because a polo shirt is a polo shirt. 

Nothing snazzy about those things.

(Except for this one)

I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to figure out why these kids weren't in dress code, but I'm even more ashamed to tell you that once I knew it, I did nothing about it. Nothing. Other than think, "Gee. Isn't that sad."

But fast forward to now. 

Three years later.

Let me introduce you to....

DRESS FOR SUCCESS!!!

This past Spring, our church life group was challenged to complete a community project based off of Micah 6:8 "Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your God.

We settled on fundraising for school uniforms. After a two week drive, $3150 was raised to purchase:

244 polos

170 pairs of shorts

50 packs of underwear

The success of that drive encouraged us to file as a non profit to keep on keepin' on! 

There is a fundraiser going on RIGHT NOW, in fact! Amazing, huh? The timing of this blog and the fact that there is a fundraiser going on RIGHT NOW.

You can read all about it on the website:

www.lowcountrydressforsuccess.com

The gist is this:
People donate funds. We order new uniforms. School social workers give them to kids in need.

The unique part is that you can choose how to give!

A two pack-o-polos?
14 smacks

What good is a polo without some draws? 

No good. 

2 pack of pants for $30

Need help keeping those khakis up? (Yeah, me neither)

But for those who do...

$8 belts!

And last but not least...

The necessities. Underwear. $12 for a 7 pack. 

A lot of you check into this blog to read about our kids. I get it. They're, by far, the best thing about our family. They're way more funny and cute than John or I could ever hope to be.
But this stuff matters to us, too.
It matters that a little girl wears the same pants day after day despite how dirty they are because it's all she has.
It matters because boys are boys. They get filthy. They ruin their clothes. They grow.
It matters because children don't get to choose the situations they are born into. They should feel free to go to school to learn and have fun. Not worry about their economic status.
And we thought these things might matter to you, too.

Do not obligated to give, but if you have an extra $14 laying around, it could mean two polo shirts for a little boy or girl. Or if you're super rich, you could give us a billion dollars and wipe out the whole problem across the southeast. That would be really cool of you.

Three years ago, I hesitated to help because I honestly didn't think I could help.

But as my father-in-law likes to ask, "How do you eat an elephant?"
One bite at a time, folks.

Spread the word, friends and family! Check out the Dress for Success website and GIVE!!!
(The current fundraiser ends October 6th)

Quatro

Dear Weston,

You know those books on our shelves that look like baby books? 

You know how Jack's book is really full, Finn's is half way full, Charlie's has his hospital papers in it, and yours is so pretty and new and untouched that it could be regifted?

That's because you're so 2014 and advanced that you get a blog post in lieu of a baby book, buddy!

It has nothing to do with me being too lazy to fill it out.

But speaking of lazy, 

LOOK AT THIS BELLY! 

You were in there, sweet boy.

Hiccups lower left. Butt upper left. Legs and punches entire right side. 

(No heart burn. No cravings. Just tired and general fatness.)

This was a few days before you were born. 

I was huffing it around the neighborhood trying to encourage your exit.

Jack had a baseball playoff game coming up, and I didn't want to miss it! 

And....we didn't miss the game.

You're already a team player.

Thank you.

If this guy ever tells you that you are adopted, don't believe him.

Because this is what it was like giving birth to you. 

This was me at 6-7 cm. 

Texting selfies. 

So that when you started sleeping through the night and I not only loved you but liked you, my friends would show this to me and remind me why "I'm done."

At 11:14pm on May 23rd, 2014

the doctor told us what we already knew in our hearts:

A BOY!

Weston Knight Ussery

Weston because we just liked it. It means "west of town", which is so....lame.

Knight because it's your Poppy's name and Pa's name and you were due on his birthday. 

I'm hoping he knows about you in heaven. 

You weighed 7 pounds 8.6 ounces

19 1/2 inches long

You were a handsome little bundle of love. 

Peach fuzz hair. 

Resemblances to your brothers, Jack and Finn.

Tiny pink lips. 

When you decided to make your exit, you made it quickly. 

They described your facial bruising as "a face of rapid descent."

I'm pretty sure it matched my "crotch of rapid descent."

Sorry. It needed to be said. 

I really enjoyed our time together in the hospital, Weston.

 Because other than our upcoming middle of the night feedings, I knew we wouldn't get a lot of one-on-one action.

I have to be honest with you. 

When you surprised us with our 4th pregnancy, I kind of grieved that Charlie wouldn't be our baby.

I also feared it because we had treated Charlie like the last little bitty baby, and I thought he would be an absolute brat.

But despite the undoubtedly horrible things he has very likely done to you since this post and when you're reading it, Charlie stepped up to the plate and was boss at being a big brother to you.

About a week after you came home, the older two got out of school for the summer. 

I tried to snatch you up and hide in the closet for the next 2.5 months.

But I realized that Finn would come looking for me when he couldn't tie his water balloons, and we'd be a sham.

Some of your photos look like you had jaundice, but you didn't. 

I just took all of your pictures with my phone and to make myself feel less lazy about not pulling out the nice camera, I would use all of the fun filters on Instagram. 

#jaundicefilter

GAHHHH! You are so cute.

You attended your first wedding at three weeks of age! (Austin and Bren Hall)

It was so nice to have you there so that people who didn't know we had another baby could obviously see you and know that I hadn't fully let myself go. 

You were a dream wedding guest. 

Until the fireworks.

We took you to St. Simon's, GA when you were 4 weeks old.

Everyone looked at us like we were a fifth of the Dugger family.

"Are these ALL yours?"

or my favorite:

"Are these all HIS?" (looking at your Dad)

Finn broke his arm on a playground while we were there. 

I had no trouble leaving you to head to a creepy ER in a strange little town because you were such a good baby, and your Daddy is such a good dad.

Most of our pictures together are like this:

Bath time is your favorite!

You get so wound up. Arms and legs flying everywhere! 

And at least one near freak out when Charlie dumps water on your head.

Your best move is when I pick you up, and you tuck your legs up and stick your butt out, arching your back with your hands in the air. 

Cause you just don't care. 

At six weeks, you were the youngest member on the annual Gardner/Ussery/Williams/Kincaid vacay.

Thankfully, we set your sound machine to "ocean" at home, so you were a goner when you got near the beach.

Here's the first Family of 6 photo!

(Not counting the real first ones of us all in the hospital because those are just scary.)

You have three brothers, Weston! How cool is that? Seriously. THREE BROTHERS!

Oh, and thanks for making our Halloween Ninja Turtle foursome complete!

You were really good at staring contests. 

You wouldn't even blink. 

Why is this? Seriously, does anyone know why babies don't blink? 

This picture makes does something to my gut. 

It's like that YouTube of those otters holding hands plus baby elephant plus baby dolphin level of precious. 

Weston, why did you have to grow?

That onesie has already been loaned out to someone tinier than you. 

I don't like that there is someone tinier than you now.

I look at you the way I look at your brothers. 

Complete adoration because I love you so much. 

And complete curiosity wondering what kind of man you will turn out to be.

This picture makes me think you were channeling some car salesman.

Jack has probably raised you because he's the most responsible of the entire Ussery, Jr. bunch. 

If you call him Mom, it's okay. I do, too, sometimes.

This was taken on a Saturday morning. 

Nothing special going on. 

But kind of everything special going on, too.

You trust your Dad and me already. 

I can tell by the way you stop fussing when we pick you up. 

And how you know when I sit down with you on the sofa by the big window that I'm going to feed you. 

I hope we never let you down, Buddy. 

Not buying you an Xbox doesn't count as a let down, by the way.

So there you have it. 

Your Baby Book Blog Post. 

Trust me. It's probably a thing now. 

When I was pregnant with you, the verse Micah 6:8 was special to me. 

We studied it through our church and even completed a community project based off of it. And tonight as you sleep swaddled in your crib with your entire life ahead of you, I can't think of anything better to pray over you.

"He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God."

Welcome to the world, Weston Knight!

Photo Bombing

Our fourth child is due in a few weeks. 

Along with this approaching eviction notice has come some reflection on my part. 

Things I've done well as a mom. Things I have really bombed on. 

Things to repeat and things to never do again. (Take 3 boys to the USS Yorktown in mid July wearing flip flops and a dress and having no other hands to help me while crawling through narrow passageways on a warship and telling the kids several times that if they didn't tighten up, then I would put them on a similar ship one day and send them out to sea.)

One item that made the list of "Things to Work On" was taking more pictures. 

I have a very nice camera. One that we splurged on when we probably shouldn't have. 

And it sits on a shelf in our laundry room. 

I carry a phone with me at. all. times.

Because you never know when the school is going to call, right? 

Or you forget how many weeks pregnant you are, and your phone updates you on Fridays. 

I have 5 camera apps.

And still very little photo taking takes place. 

Why is this???

This question led me to look in our photo albums stored on our computer, and I quickly found the answer to my question.

I don't take a lot photos of my kiddos because, on the whole, they don't know how to smile correctly. 

Exhibit A: Jack's Disney 2012 Smile

Lips parted. 

Top and bottom teeth showing. 

Sometimes a flair of excitement.

A little dreamy.

A lot goofy. 

(Leading middle brother astray here, too.)

Foreal. Almost every picture of Jack from this vacation features that smile. 

If that's what you want to call it. 

At the time we blamed it on the magic of Disney and whatever the high is that you get from the rainbow and lollipop concoction that they pump through the air vents and feed to you one street parade at a time. 

But then we got back to Bluffton and the smells of pluff mud and realized that no, Jack was in a downward spiral of facial unawareness.

Exhibit B: Finn's Creeper Face

Squinty Eyes. 

Slight grin.

Serial killer? 

or Lady Killer?

It really could go either way. 

Exhibit C: Charlie Has No Eyes

This is perhaps the longest streak of goofy kid smile we have had. 

I went back at least a year and found that most of Charlie's pictures look like this.

And to this little bean: Practice some natural smiling while you're in there, because if you're anything like your brothers, you'll be a goober, too.

Not gonna lie. 

Can't wait. 

 On the list of things we have done right: Having professional pictures taken!  

Am I alone in this? Has your child ever gone through a period of time where their brain sends conflicting signals to their face? Pray tell.