Stay...cation

Glorious world, fall weather is here! Now I'm waiting for the return of the pumpkin spice latte and my joy will be complete. Especially because I just found the Starbucks gift card my in-laws gave me for Christmas. It was tucked inside the wrapper of some new SmartWool socks that I haven't needed for several months.

"Mommy, remember when we went to Wyoming? And Indiana? And to the cabin? And stayed at home?"

This is Ellie, recapping our summer vacations. I had a great time visiting my parents and Paul's, at a family reunion in Brown County, Indiana, in Chicago, and indeed all summer long. But this weekend might have been the best vacation of all, not least because I got to shower in my own shower and sleep in my own bed. It's a blast being a tourist in my own town.

Festivities started on Thursday evening when the girls got haircuts at The Hairy Elephant. This is a real treat. The waiting room is filled with cool toys and books. They get to select their own flavored shampoos from colorful pump bottles. Then they lie on a bench while the stylist washes their hair with a long, gray trunk attached to an elephant head on the wall. How cool is this? With clean, wet hair the girls select a video and a seat. This week Ada chose Lightening McQueen and Ellie a white golf cart. The stylists - experts with kids including children with special needs - make the cut fun and follow it up by allowing the girls to choose plastic clips for their hair, then stickers and suckers. We picked up cupcakes for dessert on the way home.

Friday morning Teddy and I went to our weekly play group while Paul and the girls went on their first horseback trail ride. Ellie got to ride all by herself! Ada decided that instead of gymnastics she'd rather take riding lessons this fall. (Nope, sorry.) We met for lunch afterward then had a quiet afternoon and evening at home (Friday night pizza and a movie).

Saturday morning, one of hottest days of the summer so far, we went to Six Flags. We rode the Ferris wheel as a warm up, then the girls begged to be allowed to go on what looks to me like the most terrifying ride in the park (Pandemonium) a roller coaster that spins in 360's as it moves along the tracks. It was, apparently, fun, though Ellie does not want to repeat the experience. It was so very hot. After lunch we discovered the water rides, and much fun was had by all.


Sunday was all about the bikes. The girls and Paul rode our tandem trail-a-bike to church - I'm told this is very hard work for the lead biker - and they loved doing that. After Teddy's nap we drove downtown to the Gateway Arch and did the most touristy activities imaginable: quadracycle and carriage rides. Then spaghetti, Ted Drewes, and home.


Today was a BBQ at home with family and then one last trip to the pool for the season. Perfect weekend.

Since he comes everywhere with me, I should mention my third child. Teddy was a great sport being carted hither and yon and stuck outside in ridiculously hot weather. But he exacted his revenge in the middle of the night by not sleeping much this weekend.

Bring on Tuesday!

Not My Hair Day

Ada wants to have curly hair like mama's. So, while we watched Free Willy after bath one Saturday night I put Ada's hair in braids.



Perhaps she's not meant to have curly hair.

(Although my brother-in-law's picture from later that same day makes Ada's hair look a lot better.)

The girls also took turns "doing" my hair by spraying my head with a water bottle and yanking a comb through my snarly locks. Noting the scissors on the floor in the first photo, the evening could have turned out much worse!

Snow Day Haircut

No Offense Intended

with all of our celebrations yesterday, Great Britain.


I thought we'd BBQ alone as a family last night as the quiet before the storm this week (more on that later).

Instead a couple of friends came over. But these are the best kind of friends - the kind we don't have to clean house for, or cook a special meal for, or change clothes for, or put on lipstick for. The kind we can talk about whatever with. The kind we've known for a long time. Good friends, lovely evening.

A lovely whole day, actually. I ate way more than I should have of foods I should never have eaten. But since I ran four miles the night before, this didn't feel so terrible. Also, two people I see all the time didn't recognize Paul and me from a distance due to our updated silhouettes and that felt great.

And my hair is still not Cat Deeley's but I didn't hate it all day long, either.

So, in short, it seems that my mood is on an upswing and I'm heading back to a good place. Hooray for that!

P.S. I finally know how to spell "silhouette" (see paragraph 4 above) because of my friend Amanda's new novel!

Long Cut

Last summer my sister-in-law donated 13 inches of hair to Locks of Love and she looked great.

While my in-laws were here visiting shortly thereafter, I took advantage of the free babysitting to schedule things like my annual well-woman visit and my annual haircut.

"How much are you going to have them cut off?" my father-in-law asked, thinking I was going to do something dramatic like Paul's sister just did.

"Actually, I'm planning to ask if she can cut my hair to be 6 inches longer," I said. The last little bit of hair growth, like the last little bit of weight loss, always seems to take the longest.

I came home after my haircut and my mother-in-law looked puzzled. "It actually is longer!" she said.

And it was!

But I didn't get extensions. The stylist just blew it out straight rather than curly.

That was so much fun I decided to treat myself to more than annual haircuts over the past year. In fact, I think I decided that once every 3 months would be nice. I've made it twice since then. Alas. Something always comes up that seems a more compelling addition to the budget than my vanity.

Still, I'm currently reduced to wearing constant ponytails, so I think I really will try to sneak in a hair cut later this summer. Maybe next month, when the in-laws are here. How on earth do other women find the time and money for bi-monthly hair cuts and colorings?

I need to figure that out, because seeing pictures like this one remind me that my hair is not, presently, acceptable.

White Powder

Late at night. Exhausted. Stayed up to watch the Olympics, now ready to pass out in bed. Start thinking about tomorrow's schedule and how to fit in everything I want to accomplish.

This is the way mistakes are made.

Head for the bedroom. Catch sight of self in darkened mirror, contemplate how I like the way the bottom of my hair looks the day before I wash it but dislike how the roots lay flat against my head.

Wonder if there's anything I can do about that. See a bottle of Shower to Shower powder on the dresser. Think: talc absorbs moisture, including oil.

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I've heard of people doing exactly this. So tired. I figure: best case, it looks great and I've learned a new trick. Worst case, I wash my hair first thing in the morning.

I pour a little Shower to Shower powder into my hand and pat the crown of my head, step into the bathroom, and flip on the light.

I've aged ten years. I suddenly remember the context in which I've heard of people powdering their hair. It's to look older on stage, or to appear a proper 18th Century English gentleman.

Crap.

Oh, well, too tired to care. I go to sleep. In the morning: hey, it worked! Powder's gone and hair looks great! Ego took a bit of a hit, though.

Fitness and Health Week 4

"You'd look really plain with straight hair." 

I reacted the way any fifteen-year-old girl would, upon hearing this from her boyfriend.  I spent the afternoon painstakingly straightening my hair.  I did it the only way I knew how: using my small curling iron on centimeter-wide sections.  It took hours, but it looked fabulous.  Then I convinced my dad to give me a ride over to the boyfriend's house.

"Your hair looks fantastic!" said his mom when she opened the door.

As for the boy, I doubt he even remembered his off-hand comment by the time I showed up.  No worries; I did it to prove something to myself more than to him.

Twenty years later, I still think of the remark occasionally, usually with a chuckle while a hairstylist is blowing my mane out straight.

Speaking of which, I got my semi-annual hair cut this week.  I lost a few dry inches, alas, but the rest is soft and healthy (see above).  To tie this in to Fitness and Health Week, I thought I'd illustrate how I tend to carry weight in my face (last summer vs. now).



I'm not saying the fifteen-year-old boyfriend was wrong, mind you.  (Looking at you, Grey.)  But I think I'd look a little less like a "before" picture if I ditched the glasses and wore make-up.

Wiggle Wiggle

Ellie has two more loose teeth! Should be a quick cleaning at the dentist next month.

I continue to be amazed at how excited - rather than alarmed - she is at this process of losing teeth. I must just be at a different stage of life.

But wouldn't you be alarmed at seeing this much blood?


The tooth:


The hole:


The little sister who wants to have a loose tooth, also. Failing that, she'd like to wear one of mommy's curlers. (Yes, I sleep in curlers a couple nights a week. It's dead sexy!)

It's Not Time

Earlier today a good friend sent me an email with the subject: It's Time.

She linked to a lifestyle.msn.com article called "How to Look (at least) Ten Years Younger" and said:

Look at photo 2 before and after...this is what you should do with your hair!!!  Today!!! 

Here's the image:

She does look fabulous.  Of course, according to the text accompanying the photo, she's also 54 years old, with a dull complexion and coarse, gray hair.

Yowch.

I turned thirty-five this fall and have been thinking unhappy thoughts about aging.  And it's true that my hair has more gray in it than it had a couple of years ago.  (The gray is made more obvious by the fact that my hair is dark and very long.)  This brings up the awkward question of coloring.  I have never colored my hair.  Never!  And I don't want to!  I like natural hair.  I like my natural hair.  I like the idea of growing old naturally and celebrating that.  And yet.

I am not ready to go gray.

But I don't want to further damage my hair.  I don't want the expense and time commitment of maintaining a coloring regimen.  I don't want to stain my towels or pillowcases or even to have to think about staining towels or pillowcase (or shirts since I frequent dress and leave the house with wet hair).  Plus, my naturally aging mother will be very disappointed.  And yet.

I'd rather not have long, scraggly gray hair.  Yet.

I told my friend that it's not yet time for me, because:

1. I still like my long hair
2. I can't presently afford to color my hair, and
3. I need a cut with wash-and-go capability.  Or, as I wrote her back, "My hair might look like crap when I don't style it, but it's a simple cut so it's functional. I've had shorter/layered/styled hair before and it requires daily maintenance.  We can pretend that I'm going to become a person who gets up an hour early to style her hair every time she washes it, but it's unrealistic and simply not going to happen.
   I've made that decision before and it just sets me up for failure and extremely crappy hair." 

(I'm arching my back in this picture to make my hair look longer. The picture was taken a few months ago, so my hair really is this long now but perhaps due to winter humidity is no longer quite as curly.  Anyway, the arched back and tipped head are why I seem to have no neck or waist in the photo.)

October Photo Round-Up

I mentioned the 100,000 person Obama rally under the arch a few weeks ago. That was nothing, of course, compared to the huge crowd at Grant Park on Tuesday night. Whew! But here's how Obama looked to us, in a picture taken from the perspective of a child sitting on a parent's shoulders, then the same shot magnified:

But trust me, it was still worth it to be there.

Also, a couple of weeks ago, Ada had her first hair cut, an experience that she loved:


And, finally, you know, Halloween!
We had a lamb and an ogre. Ellie was going to be a "Big Pumpkin" until she fell in love with the Shrek costume at the store. I'm all about encouraging her choices, so . . .

They both loved trick or treating this year:

Just Relax

Fall is my favorite time of the year. But it's just so busy. October is especially crazy, and for the last couple of years I've chalked that up to Ellie's birthday party at the end of the month. Well, this year we moved the party up to the beginning of the month, but still: madness. I've had at least one commitment every morning and evening for the last couple of weeks, and often days packed with one thing after another. It's exhausting. And we have vacation coming up! It will be a vacation regardless - a break from my everyday life and routine - but it would be nice to go into it not exhausted and worn to a nub.

One of the things on to-do list for this week was a hair cut. I haven't had my hair cut in nearly a year and a half, since my disastrous triangle look (aka the "trendy bob"). I was long overdue, so I had my hair cut this morning and after that I felt much more relaxed. Or so I thought. It was a great hair cut. Lovely salon, good consultation, relaxing short head/neck/shoulders massage, hair washing, cutting, slow blow dry. I walked out of there energized, refreshed, and able to get 1000 new words down before picking up Ada from Kids Day Out.

Then I worked out tonight, and after finishing my cardio I did a few yoga poses to wind down. In the middle of a sun salute: cramp! My hamstrings decided to clench. They're still really really tight, though I'm resting, hydrating, and stretching gently every now and then. Here's hoping I really do relax soon. Maybe Paul and I can treat each other to November massages in the imaginary respite between the wildness of autumn and the frenzy of the Christmas-lasts-months-and-must-be-perfect season.

But back to the hair. I hate the way layers look, especially on me, but they were becoming necessary. My hair was just so long that it was lying very flat up top and still curly at the bottom; it looked silly. My stylist was pretty careful to blend the layers well, and I love the back but am ambivalent about the front. I'm giving it a while to grow on me, and will know better what to ask for next time. This is an improvement. I'm already considering a next time!

From 2008-10

From 2008-10

Didn't I mention that we shoe-horned a trip to the pumpkin patch in between naptime and dinnertime? Well, it's just that kind of week. Too many things to mention.

Look Into My Eyes

Once, at a restaurant, someone asked us a question indicating that she assumed we must have adopted Ellie. After all, she has blond hair, while both Paul and I have brown hair.

More humorously, after gymnastics one day a boy asked Paul if Ellie was Japanese.

A writer friend saw me out with both girls recently and asked about Ada, "Does she look a lot like your husband, then?"

Well, Ada used to look a lot like me, but she does look quite a bit more like Paul, now.

The eyes, though, the eyes are unique.

Paul has aquatic blue eyes, though the flash washes them out a little here:

He is now concerned about his unequal pupils. I tried to tell him that it had to do with their proximity and reaction to the flash, but he's now convinced that he has a brain tumor. (It was the flash. Though he did use 600 minutes on his cell phone last month . . .)

I have brown eyes. My eyes were . . . not brown until I was nearly three. They've been brown ever since, but a rather unusual shade of brown if I do say so myself. They're sort of redish brown around the pupil and greenish brown closer to the outside of the iris:


My dad has blue/green eyes, so Paul's and my kids have (roughly) a 50% chance of having light eyes.

Ellie's eyes are nothing short of stunning, even when over-exposed:

In person, they're even brighter.

Ada's eyes are the most mysterious of all. They're dark, and people often assume that they're brown, but they're not. At least, not yet.

They can be gray:

Or more hazel


And here, for no good reason, is a gratiutous shot of my hair:

As it looks a year after this nonsense:

Still Growing Up

When I turned 32 last September, I liked vanilla and I had straight hair. I didn't believe in therapy.

When I turned 33 this September, I liked chocolate and I had curly hair. I think everyone could probably use a little therapy.

I wonder what changes this year will bring!

2006 hair


2007 hair

Trendy Bob

I just had my hair cut, and I am miserable, but I am not crying about it because certainly there are more serious things for me to be upset about.

Like my marriage. And Ellie's passport still not being here. And the fact that I can't seem to find a place to be alone for even a moment in my own house, being blessed with a husband and two children who require my physical and emotional presence at all times. Oh, and the not-so-minor fact that my best friend's husband is in Iraq.

Now that things are in perspective, back to my haircut.

We made ourselves a budget two weeks ago. In an attempt to keep to it, I decided that the expensive haircuts I got every 3 months last year were a luxury we can ill afford this year, so I went down to Great Clips for a quick trim before our vacation.

I thought things were pretty clear. "I haven't had a haircut in 6 months, so I need some length taken off," I said. "I have some natural wave to my hair, and I like that. I curve my it under at the ends, and like my hair to fall about here when it's dry" (indicating a point in the middle of my neck, well below the chin).

"Below the chin, dees is goot length for you," she said. "And you wear eet curled under on bottom?" She went on to explain to me that I have a lot of hair, thick, full, healthy, I'm lucky, etc. And that the hair on my neck would cause the rest of my hair to curl out. So she was going to thin it. OK. For the first time ever, I experienced clippers on my neck, but I was not afraid, because Helga and I were clear on what I wanted. She pulled out a razor and did something with it while I tried not to notice.

Then she had me lean forward and she started cutting. I became a little concerned about how much she was cutting off in back, but she explained that it would be a leetle shorter in back than in front, which wouldn't be noticeable but would give the cut a much trendier look, like Charlize Theron's trendy bob. Uh, OK.

As she cut the sides, it became apparent that I was going to hate this.

When I'm uncomfortable with my weight (love of eating combined with newborn baby/lack of time for exercise) and the way that it adversely affects my chinline, guess what I want least? A super-short haircut that hits the middle of my cheek when dry and leaves my entire neck exposed.

Especially when I'm about to go on vacation to somewhere humid, where I expected my natural curls to fly wild and free around my head in most romantic fashion.

Why-oh-why did I not procrastinate on this haircut?

My hair is too short for a ponytail, too short even to keep behind my ears. Just long enough to get in my eyes.

Damn it.

Braids

Last week, Paul braided Ellie's hair for the first time. This is significant because she, very much unlike me, hates to have her hair brushed or styled. We do quick and ugly princess ponytails most mornings, frequently while pinning her squirming body between our thighs. If I want to do something fancy, like two princess ponytails with straight parts, it's usually a two-adult job. She was in an unusually compliant mood one evening, so Paul made his first daughter hair braiding attempt. Here's the result:

From 2007-02

I don't think I ever told you about the braiding class we took a couple of years ago. Technically, Paul took the class; I was just his model. I didn't want to be the only one who knew how to style our daughters' hair, so we enrolled in a course at a local community college.

All the other students came with plastic heads or cheap wigs on styrofoam models; Paul had me. Since I love to have people play with my hair, it was a lovely morning for me - right up until the part where he wanted me to leave his handiwork in place after we left campus. Then it was just embarrassing.

All the other students were women, of course.

And, at this particular urban campus, all of the other students were also black.

They got a real kick out of Paul's presence in the class, and he got a kick out of the attention and positive feedback. And especially the (presumably joking) salon job offer from the instructor.

Unsurprisingly, the braiding we learned was not exactly the braiding I'd had in mind. Still, I was impressed with Paul's quick aptitude with the "natural strand twist," and also impressed that my hair could hold such a style.

We didn't learn anything particularly useful (we'd have had to go back for the intermediate and advanced classes to be able to actually apply the braiding skills we'd seen in the beginners class). But it was fun. And pretty funny, too.

I'm no good at braiding either. Hopefully Ellie will develop a proficiency at it before her little sister has enough hair to braid.

From 2007-02

Having it Together

When I was in college, someone told me that I always looked neatly put together, even when I was in jeans and an untucked t-shirt. Looking back at old pictures, I think that she was right.

Somewhere along the way, I've lost that. As I sit in a group of women who look undeniably crisp, I try to think of ways that I could get that undefinable togetherness back.

I could lay out my clothes the night before. I could do more laundry, instead of waiting for Paul to do it. I could listen for the dryer to finish so that I could pull things out and fold or hang them right away. I could iron occasionally. I could wipe my shoes down each night with a wet wipe, and polish them regularly. I could go for actual haircuts regularly instead of getting discount trims semi-annually. I could wear make-up more frequently.

I'm sure that all this would help, along with improving my posture and continuing to lose weight. But really, I think the schlumpy factor is a big one. I think a lot of it is attitude.

Eyebrows

So, tonight I was trying to wax my eyebrows before bed. (You didn't know that I do that? I do. Not as often as I should, apparently.) I used to use the wax you heat up in the microwave. Then I found the stuff that you just hold over an open flame for 4 seconds then apply. I put a kleenex on the vanity to catch any drips of melted wax.

I was using a different lighter tonight, and it must have a hotter flame or something. Because I set my kleenex on fire - twice! Sheesh. I'm so tired that it took me a moment to process it. Huh. I stopped holding down the button on the lighter thingie. But there's still a flame. Pretty! Then I blew it out.

Anyway, this reminds me of the worst time I ever mucked up my eyebrows. It was two days before my sister-in-law's wedding and I was running late, as usual. I was trying to wax my eyebrows in a hurry then jump in the shower then finish packing then hurry to the airport to get to the wedding.

I didn't wait long enough for the wax to cool (this was back in the microwave days). It was still pretty hot when I slapped it onto my skin, but it's always hot and I didn't pay too much attention. I ripped off the wax, it hurt, and I cleaned up the area with tweezers. Then I took a really hot shower. Later I noticed that a scab was forming over my right eye. A big, ugly scab. I'd ripped off some skin with the hot wax. And burned the sensitive skin underneath. And compounded the whole situation by pouring really hot water over it for 10 minutes in the shower.

There was no hiding this ugly scab. When I got to Virginia, my sister-in-law and I went to have our nails done. The technicians asked me what I'd done to my face, then spent a fair amount of time snickering and making fun of me in Korean. I couldn't understand their words, but the meaning was pretty clear.

And the next day, the wedding day, the poor woman who was doing make-up for all of us in the wedding party didn't know what to do with me. "I can't cover that up," she said. She tried valiantly. And I just looked like I had a terrible growth above my right eye.

Yet I still wax my own eyebrows. I never learn.