Hair Trauma – growing older may mean “spending”

Reading this post from Bri over on My Level of Awareness has inspired me to share my own current hair thoughts – trauma.

Sadly (for me), I  am finally contemplating a professional salon for my hair.  I’ve tried it perhaps a half-dozen times in my life (going all the way back to when I was 12) and was satisfied maybe three of the 4 times and exited in tears at least twice (BAD perm AND hair cut – wanted Darryl Hanna in Spash – got Def Lepard’s Rick Savage).

I am, needless to say, trepidatious. Not only am I an incredibly tight-fisted person when it comes to my appearance and what I consider “luxuries”, but a large portion of my identity is wrapped up in having long hair, and my experience is that stylists think “long” is just past your shoulders and try to convince you the same.  I also have zero time and patience in my life for “personal prep” – my usual hair treatment is “comb it and go” – perhaps putting it in a scrunchie –  and makeup happens like maybe once a year.

But I need/want to look more professional, and my hair has changed with age (gasp) and pregnancy, and I am becoming resigned to a need to change my habits if I want to feel good about myself in the mirror.

I’m going to have to spend time and money on it.  Ouch.


I created a person!

In two and a half months, WST will be 3 years old. I have found myself in wonder repeatedly lately – “Who is this person in my house and when did I invite them here?”

The answer, of course, is that I invited her here without knowing anything, really, about her.  So now I have a permanent house guest (resident really) whose personality is something of a continual surprise.

She is opinionated, difficult, demanding, and unreasonable. She is also articulate (most of the time), thoughtful, creative, and insightful.  Also funny, loving, charming, and kind. 

She is a whole person, with a solid personality all her own.

She is over 3 feet tall (and over 30 lbs, ooof), prefers shirts and pants/shorts, but takes spells of wanting to be in a dress. She loves shoes, and has a penchant for deliberately mis-matching her socks.  Also “green is her favorite.” She likes princesses and fairies on her panties, glittery things, and, when it is not cold, being naked.

She is attached to no one ‘thing’ or comfort object, but rotates ‘favorites’ regularly.  She likes books, dinosaurs, Pooh characters, and investigating things.  She hates sleep in the evening and wakefulness in the morning. She generally likes water play and baths, unless it is not her idea. She likes to yell, sing, hum, and dance and often makes up her own songs/tunes. She likes to run, jump, climb, play  on playround equipment without fear, and has learned to ride a tricycle. She likes puzzles and art and helping to cook (or clean – but on HER schedule).

She is an active, interactive, go-get it personality (when she is not being a floppy slug-like being in front of the TV on your lap). She has been called down for being bossy at school and at home. She has “best friends” and is well-liked by many at school/daycare (teachers and students).

Wow.  Less than 3 years ago, it seemed like it took FOREVER for her to learn to reach up and grasp a rattle – to become someone you could interact and play with.  Now I have a whole person who argues with me over English grammar, methods for imbibing liquids, and whether or not imaginary friends have appropriate transportation.

Now if you blink, you missed something.  Maybe even something major.

Anthony Hopkins delivered a line in Meet Joe Black, “Sixty years. Don’t they go by in a blink.”

Yeah.  Wow.  And I waited to have her until I was 41.  In only 17 years more, I’ll be 64 – and she’ll be 20.

17 years – won’t they go by in a blink. (Except, of course, for the portions/phases that will take eons to end.)

Insights on English – Age 2.75

OK, when I signed on to be a mom, I did not realize I would be getting a crash course in just how unreasonable and illogical American English is.

WST is clearly working out the grammar and pronunciation ‘rules’ for her native language – and she wants us to follow them too.

WST – “I sleeped all by myself in my own bed.”  Me –  “Yes, you slept in your own bed.” WST – “Sleeped. ”  “Yes, you SLEPT in your own bed.” “No, No mommy, not slept – SLEEPED. SLEEPED!” (Clearly I am a total dim bulb.)

We’re having this trouble with all irregular past words – goed vs went, bited/bit, doed/did, blowed/blew, breaked/broke, catched/caught, dig/dug, etc. (Gosh there are a lot – see more.)

We’re also having trouble with plurals – everything gets an S – foots, mouses, mooses, gooses, childs, knifes, etc.

And this, of course, was inevitable:

WST – “Those are yours and these are mines.”  Me – “Mine” WST – “NO – MINES.”  Me- “You say mine – not mines. WST – Noooooooo! These are MINES – not Yours!”

So – in sympathy for my daughter struggling to be understood, I hereby declare “The English langauge is stupid!”

Now – on to learn to identify the letters of the alphabet and all their sounds…HA!