Archive | March, 2013

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

29 Mar

So it’s spring now, although as usual, nobody told Texas. Or they did and Texas chased them off his porch with a shotgun. Forget the groundhog. Texas decides if we’re having another six weeks of winter or not. It’s pretty nice today actually, but it’s been super cold lately, in my opinion.

Anyway, in recognition of spring’s arrival, at least on the calendar, I decided to cut my hair very short. I’m normally very bad about getting my hair cut, or even trimmed. I get a trim maybe twice a year, but more like every 8 or 9 months. Last time I did a major cut was over 5 years ago, and I was pregnant with my son. Not adorable, all belly, beginning of the third trimester pregnant. I was fat, sick, middle of the first trimester pregnant. Experienced moms will tell you that it’s a bad idea to make any huge changes to yourself in the emotionally charged first months of pregnancy. It’s hard enough to deal with basically losing control of your body, but couple that with a drastic change to your appearance and it can be a lot to handle. And it was. To me, my long hair always symbolized cool things like youth and freedom. Losing that, while trying to grasp the reality of impending parenthood, was kind of a bummer. I remember catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror one time not long after that first cut. Was that really me? Boring shoulder length hair (red at the bottom with brown roots, since I gave up hair dye), fat, squishy middle, ill-fitting maternity capri pants that came down way too low on my legs since I’m short, and socks with sensible sneakers. I almost cried. I probably did actually cry. I felt like I would never be me again. I was just gonna be this lame mom version of myself who wears elastic jeans and serves Sunny D to adolescents. It would’ve been nice to look in the mirror and still see my same old long hair. Then at least a piece of the old me would’ve been there somewhere, you know? Anyway, I was able to donate my hair at that time, which made the whole experience a little better. At least there was a purpose. Even though I was carrying and helping to create life, which is a pretty great purpose in itself, but whatever.

So except for maybe 8 or 10 trims, I haven’t done much in the hair cutting arena since the trauma of that cut. I knew better to stay away from the salon when I was pregnant with my daughter, and for the year and a half after her birth while my body was still not quite recognizable. Does anyone else cling to their hair length like I do? Am I coming off slightly crazier than the Cocoa Puffs bird? Either way, I woke up one morning recently and was just ready to have it gone. I was tired of the tangles, the pulls, the clogged shower drain (although let’s be honest, that was more my husband’s problem), rolling it up in the car window (which happened more often than you’d think). Remember what happened to that gal in Big Love when her braid got caught in the car door? That terrified me.

Yes, I did it.

aint she a beaut!

ain’t she a beaut!

How come as soon as you cut off a ponytail of hair, it becomes slightly creepy? I didn’t mail this off to Locks of Love until a few days after the cut, and in the meantime I stored it in a bag in my husband’s nightstand. It was a running joke that he was a creeper who keeps human hair in a drawer next to his bed. You never know who people are until you look in their nightstand, am I right?

So, there you go. I finally cut my hair. It was fun, I was ready, and over a week later, I still love it.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Easter weekend with your loved ones! He is RISEN!!

A Letter to Wilson

14 Mar

You must’ve been waiting on the other side, ready to come to us as soon as we were ready. It seems all we had to do was say out loud that we wanted you, and there you were. You’re still that way now, my Sunshine, always at our sides, eager to know exactly what’s going on and what’s being said. You couldn’t even stand to be in my belly for too long, missing out on all the fun! You made your grand entrance 5 full weeks earlier than we expected. “Suprise! Ready or not, I’m here to shake it up, all 5.2 pounds of me.”

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“Hmm. I wonder where I can get a cape in this hospital”

From the moment I saw you, my baby, I knew you were going to be the kind of boy who is sweet, gentle, caring, and sensitive. I just knew it. I pictured you in the future, tall and skinny like your Daddy, glasses on your face like Mama, and maybe carrying a musical instrument in a case (brass, of course!). I knew you would shed more than your fair share of tears, knew your heart would be big. Knew you would feel things on a grand scale. Well guess what, little one? As my own mama has shown me countless times over the years, we are usually right when it comes to the affairs of our babies.

I knew your name was going to be Wilson before I even met your Daddy, did you know that? I used to dream about a perfect little boy named Wilson. Of course, I had no idea what his last name would be, but I knew he would be my little Wilson. Your name is very special because it was part of my name for years and years. Giving it to you was a wonderful gift that made me so happy. With it, you are a perfect blend of your Daddy and me.

I want you to know that you are a marvelous creature. You are so funny! We started to see your sense of humor when you were just 2 years old. You tried to make us laugh and got so excited when we did! We couldn’t believe what an amazing little person you were. You still try to make us laugh every single day. You always succeed, except maybe when it’s past bedtime and you’re trying to stall for more time by being silly. ;0)

Don’t get a big head when I tell you this, my boy, but you were the best baby ever. You hardly ever cried, and slept all night long in your own bed when you were just 2 months old! You never tried to crawl out of your crib, or unroll the toilet paper all over the place, and you never colored anywhere except in a coloring book. :0) Mostly, and almost always, you did (and still do) anything and everything Daddy and Mama ask you to do. You are a good boy, my love. A good person. I hope nobody ever tries to make you believe differently.

We always knew you were so gentle and loving, Wilson, but I don’t think we really knew how much until your baby sister was born. Daddy and I heard from lots of people that you might have a hard time with a new baby around. Well of course, there was no hard time with you. Starting with the first time you met your sister, you have been her protector. You love her so much, and it shows with every grasp of her hand, every kiss on the cheek, every goodnight hug (which you’ve given her every night of her life so far). You pretty much completely freak out if she gets anywhere near the road in front of our house. You run in front of her to block her from going any farther and yell for me to pick her up. It’s kind of funny for Mama, but I know that for you it is very serious business.

You and I sing “You Are My Sunshine” every night before bed. Every night I get as close as possible and look at your face as we sing and I try to etch it onto my brain. You don’t know I’m doing this, but I promise you, I am drinking in all I can get of you during those 20 seconds. I don’t know how much longer you will want me to sing Sunshine with you. I hope forever, but I know that’s not realistic. That’s why I etch and drink while I can.

Wil, you’re turning 5 years old tomorrow. That’s why I’m writing this for you. I want to remember the wonderful, quirky, Superman-undies-wearing, cape loving, lightsaber weilding little boy that you are right this moment. In a few short months you’ll be in Kindergarten, and that scares Mama a little, as I’m sure it scares you a little, even though you say you’re totally excited! I don’t know what will change when school starts, but I do know that I can’t wait to see you continue to grow. In fact, I feel like I have the best seat in the house. I get to watch you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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The Crayon Situation – Part 2

12 Mar

So, an update on the crayon situation. Several friends have tipped me off to the Magic Eraser, which probably would have been a great fix, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the suggestion. However, the Magic Eraser does me no good at all when I keep forgetting to buy it at the store. Fun fact: the memory section of my brain only functions in two scenarios – as I am just drifting off to sleep, and upon being reminded by an alarm or some sort of written list. Since the M.E. never made it onto my grocery (or any other) list, I only thought about it in bed. Why I didn’t just grab my phone and put it on my list, we’ll never know. It’s not like my phone’s not laying 2 feet from my head all night long, just hanging out on my nightstand, pumping dangerous rays into my brain.

Anyway, I never got the eraser thing, and eventually pretty much forgot all about the crayon on the wall – until about 10 minutes before we were supposed to have company over. And you know what they say…

holla!

holla!

So I did what should have been done in the first place and let the internet solve my problem. In classic Google fashion I didn’t even have to finish typing the question before they brought me to the solution:

How to Get Crayon off Wall

  • Point a hair dryer at the wall
  • Turn on the hair dryer and space out for a few seconds
  • Wipe crayon with rag
  • Marvel at how well that worked
  • Feel like mother of the year who really has her life together

The heat from the hair dryer totally melts the crayon and you can just wipe it off. Oh the simplicity! I did add a little Dawn to the rag, not sure how much of a difference that made. Also, I have no idea if this would ruin your wall if you had a special kind of paint or something. We just have some run o’ the mill satin eggshell business from Home Depot and it worked fine. Probably don’t go blow drying your Persian silk wallpaper or anything like that. If you do have crayon all over your really expensive walls, and you can’t blow dry them, I’m sorry that I don’t have better advice for you.

Also, this just in: My sewing machine is NOT broken; the problem was a rather sad user error. In an upcoming blog I’ll show you some of the stuff I’m trying not to ruin working on. Try to contain your excitement!

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