The Keratin Treatment

My hair stylist/colorist extraordinaire, has been after me for THREE years, to get a Keratin treatment for my hair. You see, as I may have lamented on this blog before, my hair does NOT bode well in Humidity. And where do I live? Charlotte, North Carolina. Probably in the top five most humid places during the summer. Which means, I go curly in the summer (straight hair is not even on my radar when there's 90% humidity) and even when I go curly I'm STILL a bit frizzy.
She says the Keratin treatment is "life-changing." She's been wanting to give me one forever. I resisted, because of the formaldehyde stories I'd heard, but she told me Aveda does NOT use it. So, yesterday afternoon, I let her give me one.

First, I was pleasantly surprised at how painless it was. She brushed a bunch of crap on my hair that smelled like tanning lotion, let it sit, and then blew my hair dry and flat-ironed it. (The flatiron was at 450 degrees, which made me nervous--you know that "cooked tanning lotion skin" smell you get when you leave a tanning salon? Yep that's what my hair smelled exactly like.)

So, apparently, once you've had a Keratin treatment, you have to wait 72 hours to do ANYTHING to your hair. And I mean ANYTHING. I was surprised at the list of "don'ts" Here they are, in random order:

1) Do not wash or wet your hair for 72 hours. (3 days)-no surprise here. Although I am worried, because the 3rd day happens to be on Sunday, and I have church, and I have to stand up and conduct a meeting with my nasty three-days-unwashed hair. Ugh.
2) Do not tie hair into a ponytail. !!!!!! WHAT?? In all this heat and humidity? It's going to average 92 this week! IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE TO HAVE KNOWN THIS BEFOREHAND.
3) Do not wear hair clips. As If.
4) Do not wear hair bands. Um, how will I wash my face?
5) Do Not Sweat. Are you KIDDING? So, basically, don't do housework, don't go outside, don't work out...basically EXIST IN A VACUUM for three days? Asking me not to sweat is like asking the Pope to not be Catholic. It just. Isn't. Happening. And apparently, if I DO sweat *gasp!* I am supposed to runlikehell to the nearest blowdryer and flatiron and immediately blow the offending sweaty hair dry and flatiron it. OR ALL WILL BE LOST. Nice.
6) Do not place hair behind ears. OH MY HECK how am I supposed to remember that? So, what happens if I do? Do warning bells sound and some sort of Hair S.W.A.T. team descend on my house with rappelling ropes? (I asked, and she said my hair would naturally form in that direction and I'd hate it.)
7) Do not wear bobbypins. I haven't, since like age 25
8) Do not rest glasses on hair or use them at all if they are wide-framed. Apparently I will be driving all squinty because all my sunglasses are taboo. Thank heaven I wear contacts...
9) Do not have hair color/highlights done for at least 2 weeks. DUH.

Apparently, the Keratin takes 72 hours to "cure" like cement. So, I'm on Day One of the 72 hours. I will return and report at the end.

Movies and BUGS!!!!!!

Had a great weekend with the kids. Saturdays and Sundays are the only days Hubby has off, so we usually jam-pack all we can family-time wise, into those two days.
Saturday day was pretty busy, and then, Saturday night, Hubby and I went to an outdoor wedding. The setting was in a private back yard, the light was beautiful, everything went smoothly, and except for the bugs (little bugs, little bugs) it was a wonderful experience.
We went home afterwards, and the kids were all home (which NEVER happens, usually two or three of them are off somewhere at any time) so we all decided to see Monsters University. It was at 10 pm, and yes, we know that's WAY too late for a six-year old to be up, blah blah blah but it's summer and sometimes we do crazy stuff like that.

We got to the movie theater, and we were waiting in the foyer for Hubby to get our tickets out of the kiosk, and I had an itch on the front of my scalp. Now, I had worn my hair curly that day (humidity and straight hair don't exist in the same world together for me, unfortunately) and half up, half down. So I had a bunch of curls at the top. So I scratched my itch.

And felt something. Something BIG.

You know how you have that crazy fear feeling engulf you--your heart drops to somewhere in your shoes and your blood runs cold and your heart starts pounding? Yeah, me too. BIG TIME. Since I was in a roomful of strangers and my traditional reaction to having a bug on me wasn't appropriate (which involves what my kids have dubbed my "bug dance" and a lot of shrieking) I C-A-L-M-L-Y walked over to my daughter and asked her to take a look at my hair, and see what the big something up there was. She took a look, and didn't see anything. I told her look closer, so she did, and then she put her hands on her mouth in horror (I immediately realized she was probably the wrong person to ask) and we both started squealing and I kind of started hopping around. Hubby, clearly alarmed by our embarrassing display, came over and asked what was going on, and I asked him to look at my hair. He looked. "There's nothing there." Then he took a closer look, and said: "OH."

His reaction was enough to drive me into full panic mode. "GETITOUTGETITOUTGETITOUT!" I squealed, clawing at my hair. He told me to hold still (I swear I detected a smirk on his face) and he fished out a Huge. Black. Beetle. He threw it on the floor and it started scuttling away and I saw how big it was and I FREAKED. The people around me freaked. I heard one lady say "that was in her hair? EW!"

It was that big. It had landed on my head from somewhere, and burrowed in my curls. We checked for eggs (and poop! ugh!) and went into the movie, thoroughly grossed out. Yuck.
By the way, GO SEE Monsters University. It was awesome. And my daughter, apparently, liked World War Z, despite it basically being dubbed a "huge turd" by movie critics.
I guess we're easy to please...

ARE YOU INSANE??? NO WAY IN *Gulp* Sure Honey, Whatever You'd Like...

Thing Three wants to go out for Football. He's 83 pounds.

You see my predicament, don't you? Yep, you spotted it right away. I am the kind of mom, who, when one of my kids expresses an interest in a sport, I ENCOURAGE them. I want my kids to be active. I want my kids to be on team sports, because it teaches them how to get along with others.

I also like to see my kids ALIVE, too. Without broken bones and concussions and separated shoulders and torn ACLs. (Did I miss any other potential football injuries?)

Thing Three, to his credit, is fast. Years of soccer have made him so. He would be a cornerback or wide receiver. Catch the ball, and run like hell, and don't let any of those huge boys pulverize you into a pile of human jelly. That's literally the advice I am giving to him.

Despite my extreme anxiety for his physical safety, I bought him cleats. I bought him gloves. I signed him up for football skills camps and conditioning. He really really wants this. Is it bad that a teeny tiny part of me hopes he doesn't make the team? 99.9% of me will be glad if he makes it. Not going to lie. It is HARD to get onto the teams in our school. You have to be a super athlete, or know someone in the system, simple as that.

So, I am outwardly supporting him, and buying him protein shakes (ten pounds, JUST TEN pounds would help put my mind at ease) and encouraging him.

But inside (especially when I drop him off at conditioning and see those hulking boys), I am frankly, terrified for his safety.

UGH.

Such is Life.

Got some bad news today. Can't really say much other than "Oh, well, I tried."
That really is the way of things, isn't it? We try things, and sometimes they work out, and sometimes, they don't.

I am not going to sweat it. I am going to chalk it up to experience, try to move on, and push forward. Yes, it is embarrassing and upsetting, but I only have myself to blame. I'm in the "Couldawouldashoulda" phase.

I was looking back at some of my posts ten years ago, when my kids were very little and I didn't have time to tie my shoes, let alone do much else. I was funny. I was actually DANG funny. Now, I have two teenagers, a tween and a 6-year old. My sense of humor is still there, but I think it's sharpened into jaded sarcasm at times, and thinly-veiled snark the rest of the time. ;-)

I've decided I just can't sweat things so much. I need to get over myself, get over some of the crap around me and find my happy, witty place again.

I'll get there. I promise.