A Hairy Situation

For my entire marriage my husband has been clear about wanting me to forever look exactly as I did when he met me. Of course, that meant to me that I should change my look in every way imaginable to see if I could make myself even MORE desirable to him. It was simple in my mind, he just didn’t know what he really liked so, I cut off all my waist-length blonde hair and I changed make-up, I experimented with every tone of blonde dye there was, I got tattoos, and piercings, and you name it, I changed it at least 3 different ways. And this past year was no different.

This last time, I asked Ruben how he wanted me to style my hair next and having had very poor luck telling me to leave it alone, he told me to dye it dark – very dark. Not recognizing his reverse psychology, I did just that. I went to the salon and told my stylist to give me the darkest brown my complexion could handle. Boy was I surprised when I walked out of there 4 hours later looking Italian. I asked Ruben what he thought but he just shrugged the way he always did. So, I kept it up for four months. Finally, I was ready to go back – back to the way I looked when we got married. So, I went to the salon again but this time, my stylist, damn her, was on vacation so, I was seated with the newbie in the salon. She sat me down and asked what I wanted and when I showed her a picture, she immediately excused herself for a moment. Sweat bullets started to pour off my forehead. I had chosen to come in on the day of my birthday party and if this young, frightened chick screwed up my hair I was going to be pissed!

She returned after 5 or so minutes with the owner of the salon. A woman in her mid 60’s with spiky hair and an apparent urge to belong to Jem and the Rockers, needless to say, she was a bit frightening to look at, almost like a train wreck, terrible but you just can’t bring yourself to look away. She jumped right into my 18 inch comfort zone and said, “this will not be happening today” . My heart sunk. She spent the next half hour arguing with me about the fact that I was not a natural blonde, not now, not ever. She offered me heavy highlights and said to return in 6 weeks for more work.

I got the heavy highlights because I felt that some blonde would be better than none. I walked out of the salon with white blotches where the bleach had been left too long because – low and behold, I really was a blonde under that dye and the bleach really took. Despite my own insecurities about the look (I thought I looked like an albino leopard had planted itself on my head) I got a ton of compliments.

I of course, thought I could make it better. I could do what I had wanted because, after all, what would a professional know that I wouldn’t?

Perhaps that peroxide can lighten hair but not lighten dye?
Shit!
I went through 4 boxes of hair dye in one night and sadly ended up with the top 4 inches of my hair an white-orange color and the bottom, no different from how I left the salon. Through the course of the weekend I would dye my hair another two times, finally to a brown to cover all my mistakes and made an appointment to head back to the salon on Saturday.

I sat and bawled my eyes out at how terribly I had screwed up and my husband just sat there and laughed.

I went on Saturday and had them put it back EXACTLY the way it was for my birthday.

5 months later, I’m still slowly adding to the heavy highlights and killing my hair slowly to get it back to what it once was…

Hello...I'm Back

I haven’t written in – eh, hem – a LONG time and for that I am truly sorry to the whole 3 of you who choose to check me out daily. I have had a disastrous almost year-off writing but from it, comes a lot of great material. I know, I know, you are on the edge of your seats, waiting to cackle at the craziness that seems to seep into my life from every corner but this is meant more to be a “hey, sorry its been so long but I’m here now…” kind of thing.

I promise, there will be more that is much funnier by the end of the day.
I suck.
I apologize.

And, for the 3 of you who come by every day, thank you for your endless devotion, however misplaced it might be.

Poor Pup!

This is what happens when I decide that everyone needs fresh air:

We pack up the car, grab the kids, shove them into their car seats and head out. Today, I decided that along with freeing my husband to work on the master bathroom, we would also get the dog some good exercise.




THE POOR LITTLE THING! This is what Lexi deemed fun for the two of them....





They Ran back and forth across the Avila Barn lawn,

over and over and over again...and when the dog laid down exhausted, she would drag him until he started running again....now that is a good damn dog!







They are both in bed for the night and it is only 7:30!

I feel so accomplished!

Lexi's First Celebrity Encounter

Lexi was so excited about meeting the "teddy bear". Just thought I would share her quick experience with Fire Safty Icon, Smokey the Bear.

Doesn't she look terrified?

Ruben just may be one of the best dads ever...Sometimes he can just pull it all off.

Happy Birthday Conlan!

Welcome to the Family Conlan James! As I mentioned in a post a bit ago, my sister gave birth last Monday and we all waited on pins and needles to find out what she was going to have. Baby Boy Conlan James came into the world weighing 6lbs, 7oz. He was 18 ½ inches long and ABSOLUTELY PERFECT! My sister had been very set on having a girl so, I have visions of lots of dresses and hair clips in this poor boy’s future. I have even been told that as his gender was announced, my mother caught on camera a sheer look of disappointment on Jesseca’s face. I’d love to see that one.

To be honest, I think now that she has him home and named and set up in his handsome little bassinet, she couldn’t be happier that he is a he. Because, when you are working on 3 hours of sleep a night, two children under two during the day, and all the fun that comes with nursing, well, learning the tricks of the trade with a new gender is just one more thing that does not need to go into the works.

I remember flipping out about having a boy after having a girl! That was not a cool game to play. Its no big deal now but when you throw hormones out of whack, put your body through the most excruciating workout its ever experienced and then take away all sleep there after, its not nice to throw new plumbing into the game. It was a miracle I never got peed on. I am still not sure how that happened.

An even bigger miracle is that Lexi did not KILL Mateo in his first week of life. She really wanted to, I know. She would slip back and forth between cuddling him and trying to smash his skull in with her sippy cup. It’s an amazing thing, that soft head that babies are born with. Its like nature knew that older siblings would not be receptive to this new adventure called baby brother.


I hope that Jess and Denver experience better luck with Haiden and Conlan than I did with my two little ragamuffins. Congrats, you guys!

Little Miss Owies!

My daughter is the ultimate optimist. Almost so much so that she gets angry about it. Every morning I ask her how her head is (see previous post for more explanation) and she tells me, No owie! All better!”

She says this almost angry, like I should know this by now, but every time some one so much as touches her head, she starts crying like they just seriously accosted her. I think at this point she just knows she can milk it for all its worth because she keeps reminding me that daddy hit her on the head with his elbow, “like this,” and then demonstrates an almost wrestler like move when in reality, her father was working on our bathroom and she was right next to him and when he put his arm down, it lightly tapped her head. But the owie she got on the driveway? “All better!”

She is also now completely terrified of the driveway and I can’t say I blame her. I’m a little scared of that thing, too! Every morning, she recaps the events of falling, hitting her head and dropping her “logurt” (yogurt) on the grass. It was quite traumatic and she is grieving the loss of that cotton candy flavored shrek gogurt that laid in the grass for three days. Every time we go up or down the walk, one of us has to carry her or hold her hand and she is always celebratory of the fact that we didn’t fall down and get hurt. I never knew that a toddler’s memory could withstand a week but I guess it can!

Are you kidding me?

Tuesday was one of those stupid days that left me believing that the Universe has a sense of humor and its laughing is directed at me.

My sister had a baby on Monday, Yea! I’ll talk about that later because its special and great in its own way but doesn’t belong here. After the baby was born, she started having seizures and was admitted to the ICU. I had been told that they needed help at the hospital since her husband couldn’t be at the ICU with her and in mother-baby with the baby so, I was in a hurry to get to work, get done what I needed and get over to the hospital to help out. So I was very clear. I need to get to the hospital today. The Universe listened.

On the way rushing out of the house, I was walking with Lexi down the walk to the driveway and the sprinklers were going and the A$$ that used to have our house waxed part of the driveway so its especially dangerous (thank you, jerk!). Well, I slipped and my right knee bent in a way that it has never bent before and Lexi fell, face first into the side of the garage. Ten minutes later, soaking wet from the sprinklers, and we were headed to the Emergency room. I am quite clear that it looked like my husband beat the crap out of us but in all reality it was my own battle with balance that landed us there and I got to tell nurse after nurse and doctor after doctor what a klutz I am.

After x rays and CT scans, here’s what we found out. I had torn my LCL in my right knee, damaged my cartilage and had overall sprainage. I’ll be on crutches (and boy do they suck hard) for a long time. Poor little Lexi has a concussion and we got to be admitted to the hospital for observation.

Ta Da! Did you miss it? This was the Universe giving me the time at the hospital that I had asked for. Wasn’t that nice?!?

And the best part? We were in room 210, the baby was in room 203. We were THAT close! My parents had a one stop shop to visit us all. Thank you very much Universe for your divine greatness in giving what a person really needs.

Just as a recap for you all, I wanted my house remodeled, I got a flood so my house had to be rebuilt entirely on the inside. I wanted to get to the hospital, so I get my butt whooped by the pavement. Let’s see what we’re given next, shall we?

Ouch!

I know I haven’t provided much in the last week or so that was worth reading; I am terribly sorry that I am so boring. Last night was a dozy, though so here you go!
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Yesterday Lexi and I decided we would do make-overs and to do them, we needed to go to the store and get nail polish and bobby pins and the like. I’m telling you, she is as girly as a two year old can get! While at the store, we go through the shaving and wax aisle and I see the red container that will haunt my vagina for eternity. Looking at it, I think, “I should do this! I should try it and ooh! Look! It even has shapes you can do! That would be neat!”

I have always believed that every woman should experience her own bikini waxing at least once in her life to truly know how it feels. Let me tell you in advance, if you feel the same way, I recommend going to a professional for that experience. It would have to be better than my own encounter!

So, with everything for make-overs and this red container in the cart, we bee line over to the next open cashier and pray she doesn’t judge me. She goes through each item and then stops at the wax. Looks it over and says, “I’ve always wondered about these things – let me know how it goes, k?” <-- That, right there is how you know I live in California. Only a place this liberal would have people who say things like that OUT LOUD.

Lexi and I go home and we do our hair 30 different ways and wash or faces and soak our hands and feet and paint our nails and then, when my husband gets home, I enlist his help with the little red jar. Seeing as I know me and am clear that I will not be able to do this to myself, I plan on having him slather the stuff on and rip it off. This could be just what we need to spice things up a bit. You never know. (<-- Don’t judge me! I know you all have thought of doing similar things!)

So we read the instructions, pick a shape and hit the bedroom to set this whole endeavor in motion. Somewhere in the instructions it reads that you are supposed to do small patches at a time. We both missed that one. Before I know it, my vagina, butt cheeks, even my legs are glued together with a sticky wax. We wait for it to get to be the right texture and then he pulls a tiny bit! Ouch! Ok! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! I decide this is a bad, bad idea! I hit the shower, NOT COMING OFF! I get vegetable oil from the kitchen, NOT COMING OFF! We try lotion, razors, scissors, house hold cleaning products, NOT COMING OFF!

I am so close to tears now! Each little patch hurts like no tomorrow and I have officially embarrassed myself in front of my husband like NEVER before. We go back to the bedroom and decide we need a plan of action. He thinks we should leave it on and let it fall off naturally as it will but we at least need to create holes where there should be holes. Two hours of ripping chunk after chunk of hair off and we are barely making a dent. I am pretty sure my vagina has never been so mad at me. I go back to the shower, thinking if I can get a bit off, maybe it will be a bit easier. No luck, the hot water melts the wax again and seals my EVERYTHING closed. This is going to be a LONG night. Finally, my husband suggests taking a towel and my hair dryer and putting them to action.

I grab a Dora the Explorer beach towel, apply it to my nether regions and turn the blow dryer up to full heat. I feel the wax melting onto my skin again and my blow dryer over heats. I sit there, picking all this yucky red stuff out of my nails until the wax cools and then I pull. OUCH! Ok. Maybe, I can do this. My dryer clicks back on and after a series of 8 heatings and towel pullings, I officially broke my hair dryer and still have large clumps of wax left in the most sensitive areas EVER. I am fairly cetain now that all that hair is wired into the bone down there. I spent the next hour and a half ripping little remaining chunks out and begging for mercy.

I successfully got out most of the wax, enough to go to the bathroom successfully. My entire vagina and surrounding area is more raw than the worst case of diaper rash you have ever seen.

I am quite sure that my vagina will never forgive me for this!