Hairapy

Just when I thought things were finally going to slow down enough for me to catch my breath at the end of my classes last semester, Christmas flew by, as did my brother Sergio's visit with our niece Simone!  This past month was so much fun, and even though it was busy, I've been able to at least take care of some much needed personal stuff, which will help get this year off to a good start.

Some of my New Year's resolutions and how I will set out to accomplish them:

1.  Lose 40 by the time I'm 40 (wah!)

And that's it.  I have begun Jazzersize this week, and even though I tumbled through some of the steps, it felt great to finally get into a serious exercise routine, seriously, this time. 

Exercise and cleansing the clutter from my mind through therapy.  That all plays into the turning 40 thing, along with other clutter. 

Oh, I guess there is a second resolution:

2.  Get haircuts only from professionals at professional hair salons.  At places that do not charge $10 for squirting water into my hair; chomping gum in my ear; twisting sections of hair in every direction by those who do not LISTEN when I say something like, "I like the length of my hair, I just need it shaped ..." and end up with a year's worth of growth on the floor with a hair style I did not want once again; hearing, "I learned this in beauty school..." which means they just graduated from hair school; charging an extra $2 to DRY and an extra $2 to STYLE and COMB it so I don't look like crazy Dutch Boy with flat, frumpy hair that does not resemble what I had in mind after having spend many months of growing out a bad style by someone else who one told me I needed some sparkle, even though with the extra $4 forked over my hair looks semi-dismal, but at least it's dry.  Today I walked in with sparkle...my hair was styled and pretty so the 'stylist' would get the idea of what I was aiming for, and now I look like Dutch Boy.  Christian said my hair looks "like nothing...awful".  Yup, that's what I get from places with names like *"Clip and Save" (*name changed to closely resemble the guilty).

P.S. Therapy is good for the soul.  And so is blogging.  I need hair therapy, though.

Tennessee, Part I

The boys and I just returned from visiting Nana and Papa in Tennessee last Tuesday. We spent almost two weeks there, and we had a real nice visit as always. The kids and I survived security at the airport, especially on the return flight when I had to have endless bottles of medication sealed up in plastic bags. More on that later.

Before I get into a little about what we did on our trip, I'd like to share a connection Christian made recently about what I was trying to explain about the Internet. Lately, he is into looking up insects and other creatures on the computer. Because of my children-induced ADD, I cannot sit still while Christian wanders through a site that I pull up for him (usually it's PBSkidsgo.org); I will show Christian a thing or two and then he's off to navigate on his own. But because I am not familiar with too many children safe websites, and especially after I pulled up an earthworm site that I thought was normal but ended up showing an obscene photo, I am wary of letting him look on his own. I tried to explain that sometimes "yucky, disgusting" things show up that are not for kids' eyes and that mommy doesn't know enough about keeping his eyes safe from such gross things on the Worldwide Web, when suddenly Christian recalled a song he recently learned at school. Some of the verses are:

Be careful little eyes what you see...
Be careful little eyes what you see...
There's a Father up above,
He's looking down towards us...
Be careful little eyes what you see.

It's pretty terrific to see when your child makes a profound connection. At the time he learned that song, he probably did not think much about what the lyrics meant, yet he pulled it from memory when I explained some of the dangers of what can be found (or what can find you) on the Internet.

Back to our trip! Here are some photos of what we did and who he we saw:

Christian learned how to drive the four-wheeler. Some nosy neighbor reported Papa to the cops, and both Christian and Papa got pulled over for riding on a 'main street' with a minor, and Christian had his first ride home in a police car. At least he was allowed to sit in the front seat of the cruiser. After Nana asked what happened to the four-wheeler (did they run out of gas?), Christian replied, "I don't want to talk about it." Papa fixed the problem with the police chief & they were able to return to riding through the neighborhood, but must drive directly to the creek in the field behind them now.

This is one of Gaby's favorite things to do. He just loved taking those rides. Papa also let them sit on his Harley, and he even took them for a ride in his red 'race' car -- I've not even done that! Those kids are pretty special to Papa.

This T-shirt pretty much sums up Papa's personal philosophy. Gaby likes to listen to the blues with Papa. After one such night of hanging outside, Christian told Nana, "I'm tired of Johnny Cash."

We saw our friends Libby and her brother Justice.



And Jojo had more fun running around their green, green yard and among Nana's beautiful flowers.

Nana gave us all some much needed trims. Nana was much relieved to cut off Gaby's mullet.

We saw MeMaw and Poppy (Mike's grandparents), and one of the best part of our visits for Gaby is seeing the big farm machines. Poppy has a few tractors and some barns to tend to the ginormous bovines roaming their property.

Mike's dad, Grandpa Kenny, and his friend Karen also came to visit from Indiana. Poppy has a four-wheeler and so Grandpa Kenny took the boys out for a ride.

Here's MeMaw ...


and the invincible Auntie Linda who singlehandedly got the county's spay/neuter clinic up and running during her 'spare' retirement years... Yeah, I know I'm bragging...it's pretty cool, doncha think?

Where was Jojo all this time his brothers were out having fun? He was snoozing on Karen's shoulder, and that was the night Papa and I took him to the emergency room with a raging fever and ear infection.

More to share coming soon.

Jeepers Creepers on the Loose and Big Brown Peepers

Yesterday we went to the mall to pick up Joseph's one-year portraits. I told the boys if they were good we would go to the playground. Then I remembered that the fun children's hair cut place was close by and Gabie was willing to go check it out. We had the good fortune of running into an old friend from my childhood, Anna, who was there with her children. While the kids ran around the shop watching the videos, playing with the toys, or sneaking candy from the huge display (what a fun place!), we visited until it was time for Gabie to receive his hair cut. Actually, she offered to let Gabie go before her son Benjamin had his turn. We overheard Benjamin telling Christian that he was going to get a Power Rangers hair cut like the ones on his T-shirt, but Anna noticed that Power Rangers wear helmets.

We went to the green frog chair and Gabie started to cry, but he didn't go into hysterics like he did last spring at the other place. I ended up holding him in my lap on a regular (adult size) chair while the very efficient stylist cut his hair in about 10 minutes. What joy and relief that we made it through this ordeal, and I think Gabie had more fun than he let on. You did it!

Jeepers, we can see your peepers now!

Jojo has been walking like crazy in the past two weeks. I will post a new video soon so you can see how well he gets around. Here are a couple of photos which may help you see how much he enjoys his newly acquired skill.

And finally, yesterday Christian found a new "friend" in Grandpa and Yaya's yard -- a praying mantis that he saved in a cup overnight. I was leery of allowing this since the night before Gabie let loose a grasshopper that Christian had also caught and stored in a temporary shelter bowl. We still haven't seen Mr. Grasshopper, but I'm sure I'll find him where I least expect it.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I used to HATE bugs. Years ago I was once frozen for an hour in my apartment because a moth was on the wall, but I bravely ran past it and drove to the nearest store to buy bug spray to take care of it. Since Christian's interest in these creatures has intensified lately, I've somehow gotten over much of my paranoia. Even bees don't scare me that much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'll never touch bugs with my bare hand if I can avoid it. I'll only dispose of small ones myself -- like ants, flies. I still trap the occasional cricket in a glass for Mike to take care of later. I detest cockroaches and furry looking spiders.

Christian knows the rule: All creepy crawlers are to be let loose the following day upon which they are caught so that they may find their mommies and daddies who miss them. He had a hard time parting with the mantis today and somehow found ways to keep it around as long as possible.

Christian spent several hours saying goodbye to the praying mantis who for some reason was not ready to leave. Christian told me it wanted to stay on the table.

Shoo, bug, shoo I telepathed urgently to the praying mantis.

Maybe it'll be gone by tomorrow morning as I dream of grasshoppers on the loose ....or grasshoppers in my bed.....zzzzzzzzz

Doh!

I did it again, Dancing with the Stars:


Instead of doing something useful like cleaning clutter, scrubbing bathrooms, vacuuming, or coloring my hair, I got sucked into the madness of your show. It's all your fault with the crazed B-List, or E-List stars (even Kathy Griffin turned down your show), doing their fancy dances and even hearing one poor rendition of an excellent Alicia Keys (!) tune. But I enjoyed the "What's Up Pussy Cat" number sung so well as I waltzed with weasel baby and sang to him in the beautiful alto soprano voice that I hear in my head. And here I thought we were already into week six at least, but it is only week three. Time is just crawling along -- what it is it about this season's show? I shall have to miss you tomorrow because I am already committed to waste 90 minutes on the more important presidential debate with performances by two staid and apparently sane men wearing glitter-free suits. No razzle dazzle for me tomorrow night, DWTS. Don't even tempt me to watch your show after the debate. I won't even take a peek, no sir!


Tonight poor Cloris Leachman lost her wig in her confusing dance number and I was reminded that Gabie needs his hair cut. He decided not too long ago that he hates hair cuts. Last spring I took advantage of cutting his hair when he had strep throat. Honest, I did not know he had strep throat until the day after the photo was taken. If you have a determined toddler, get him while he's sick! And use lots of chupa chups (lollipops, to you).

This is what Gabie's hair looks like under normal circumstances. Nana was able to cut his hair that time:

I tried to get the same effect, but he would not let me cut over the his right ear.

The damage was already done. I bravely carried on around his head, determined to finish the job.

I'm no longer allowed to give hair cuts. So out of desperation, Mike waits until Gabie is fully asleep, and then snip! snip! snip!:

He usually only gets the bangs, though. At this point, we just want Gabie to be able to see. It looks like a bowl is slowly growing on top of his head, kind of mop-topish. My next move: take him to the place at the mall where kids sit on carousel-type seats and watch videos while getting their hair cut.

Usually Nana cuts his hair, but he won't let her since the Syrup Incident. Two-year-olds have long memories. If only we had known there was sticky syrup in his hair then it would not have been so painful as Nana combed through it to cut it. So, last spring, about a month after I chopped his hair, I took him to a salon. I was going to lie and tell the stylist that he had cut his own hair, but then I thought, what if she notices the cuts in back where I tried to follow Nana's line? What then? Would I say that he held up a mirror to see the back of his head as he supposedly sneaked the scissors? Of course, she asked who butchered his hair and I could not lie. It still did not go well for all of us. He screamed while I held him (forcibly) in my lap as she got in a snips when he'd stop squirming in my arms. I told the stylist cutting his hair, when she looked like she was going to bail, "Cut it. Just. Do. It." Fun times.

Did I tell you Gabie has a piercing scream? Turn down the volume, I'm warning you. Here he is when he was about 15 months old (and me, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen). Fun times.