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.

Are We Getting Lazier?

My daughter is finishing up a Shakespeare unit at school. She was on the computer yesterday asking me what England was like during Shakespeare's time. 
Well, I walked right over to my office and picked my copy of "Shakespeare's England" off my bookshelves. I handed it to her. "This has everything you need," I said. 
She took one look at it and shook her head. "Who has time to read that? I just need to Google on the computer and paste it." 

She didn't even open the book.
 
I've just discovered a major difference between my generation and hers. Not sure how I feel about that.

I remember going to libraries and getting frustrated because the big reference books I needed couldn't be checked out. They had to stay IN the library. So I had to get pencils and paper and write down NOTES. I had to WORK for my homework. I had to search through dusty card catalogs and go on hunts for the books I needed, and I checked them out. Then I had to READ them at home, and pluck what info I could from them and use it.

Fast forward to now and any info you need is a Google search away--and you can just use it any way you please. You can copy and paste right into your document. Its as simple as that.

I guess I understand why my kids have more homework than I did when I was their age. Because their resources and technology are faster and more accessible, therefore they can get more done in a shorter time. 

I'm wondering if we should even call it "homeWORK" anymore. ;-)

Heart Broken

I'm taking a break from wit today, since I don't have any. I'm upset by the devastation in Oklahoma, but worse, about the elementary school deaths.

Remember as kids, growing up, we'd have the "tornado drills?" The teacher would tell us to crouch underneath our desks? I always wondered what it would be like to be in an actual tornado.

I found out, years later, in my late twenties. I was working at Dillards in Sugarland, Texas, and a tornado tore the side off my store. It was terrifying. It was devastatingly loud. No one was killed, thankfully, but we were all shaken up and freaked out.

My own kids are scared of tornadoes. Whenever we get a "Tornado Watch" or "Warning," I reassure them that they will be safe, that they need to go to sleep and not worry. And they believe me, because something that horrible doesn't happen all the time.

I think of those poor children in Moore. They were in their schools. They knew it was coming. They were terrified. And then it hit them dead on. I can't wrap my head around what they must have experienced.  Makes me want to hug my kids a little closer, today.

My prayers go out to the vicitms and their families. I have some links for donations if anyone feels inclined.

If you want to donate to help the disaster victims, you can donate at the Red Cross: Red Cross Disaster Relief fund

Or, more local to the victims,  the Oklahoma Baptist Disaster Relief's Website. This organization says donations will "go straight to help those in need providing tree removal services, laundry services and meals to victims of disasters."
It is requesting monetary donations (It says clothing is NOT needed). For more information, and to donate, visit Oklahoma Baptist Disaster Relief's website.

The Slenderman Costume.

I'm a little "late" posting this, but some years, Thing Two has some REALLY great costumes. You should have seen the "Link" (Legend of Zelda) costume I did for him one year. You can click here to see it.

Anyway, last Halloween he wanted to be Slenderman. Apparently there's this freaky, faceless, black-suit-and-tie-wearing freakazoid out there in Gameland, running around and his faceless face is the last thing you see if you aren't careful and get away from him. Which means GAME OVER. Oh, and he has freakishly long arms.

So, Thing Two wanted to be him. I had fun building this costume. All I needed was a black suit, shirt, black tie, (he already had these for church) 2 yards of black fabric to extend the arms, and a white Morph Suit.

Behold, the end result:

His friends he went Trick-or-Treating with took a few pictures of him in the woods. Because you usually encounter Slenderman in the woods.

Creepy. But awesome.

Antsy Pantsy

School is almost out, Summer weather is officially here, they're opening up the neighborhood pool next weekend (yay!) and I have a SERIOUS case of Ants-in-the-pants. Why, you ask? A lot of things, I guess.

I'm antsy about my submissions. The time an agent takes to get back to you now is about 7000% longer than it was ten years ago.

I'm antsy for school to be out. Summer is the best. I will have more time to write. ;-)

I'm antsy because my mom is having knee surgery Monday. On the other knee. I just want her to be all healthy and bionic already.

I'm antsy because I have about 958363868 things on my To Do list, and none of them are things I want to do.

I'm antsy because I'm turning older soon and I feel about 20 years younger than I am. I don't know if it's the gift of emotional immaturity, or what, but I do NOT feel my age.

I could go on, but I don't want to bore everyone. Just know I'm "antsy" and I have a lot going on.

Scratch scratch.

Shame on Me!

I have seriously neglected the blog! I used to be such a poster--no joke, I posted EVERY day. I was on fire. I was funny. I had lots of stuff to talk about. 

Then my kids got older. I know it's not much of an excuse, but since as you all know I am not the best at budgeting my time, all I do lately is run around/drive people around/run errands etc. etc..

I'm sure there are moms with a bazillion more kids than me, who have all the time in the world. And they document it all on Pinterest. But I'm not one of those moms. I'm a writer. My writing time is precious to me, and my kids are precious to me and sometimes it's like a big old Sophie's Choice movie (okay bad example) because I have to choose and neglect one or the other. And I don't want to neglect EITHER.

By the way, can I just say, NEVER volunteer to be a room mom for a Kindergarten class? 'Nuff said on that subject.

So, anyway, here's me, tentatively peeking in and giving you a wave, not promising I'll blog every day, but I will certainly be BETTER at it.

I think I've come to the point where I've realized that my life really is more mundane than exciting (I save all that for my adventures on paper) and who wants to read about MUNDANE? Me either. Not unless I'm emotionally invested in that person, do I want to hear about their trip to the vet and what they ate for lunch. Seriously.

Okay. The house is quiet, kids and hubby are at school and work, and the possibilities are endless! Which one will I choose??

Soccer Tryouts are Brutal. Oh, and Pinterest Makes you Fat.

Thing Three has been at soccer tryouts for his middle school. For the life of me, I don't understand why they allow the 8th graders to run around with the 6th graders. It's suspect. Why, you ask? Well, A) 8th-graders are hulking MEN compared to little 6th-graders, and B) they are OUT TO GET THEM.

Case in point: Thing Three (who is in 6th grade) was looking a little green around the gills when I picked him up today. Apparently a big hairy 8th grader had bulldozed into him not once but twice during tryouts, twisting his ankle the first time and literally smashing him in the head...with HIS head, the second time.

Thing Three was dizzy and in pain, and I hurried him home and got ice on his head and checked his pupils and had him repeat all sorts of trivial information. Head injuries are SCARY. Especially when administered by LARGE 8TH GRADERS.

Can you tell I'm a little miffed?

Anyway, in other news, I have decided Pinterest makes you fat. Because if you get on it, all you see are pins of double-chocolate-fudge-custard-caramel-peanut butter brownies and the like. You know the kind. "Made with only FOUR ingredients!" (said ingredients being Fat, Lard, Crisco and Cocoa Powder.)

Even if I'm not hungry when I get on Pinterest, I leave with about 907847 new recipes printed up, and I'm ravenous. As in, Eat-My-Own-Computer-Mouse ravenous. It's not fair. Yet I can't stay away...

Hubby had surgery Monday to correct a hernia. Nothing really major, but I have to babysit because he's totally loopy on painkillers and not responsible for his actions. It's been kind of entertaining, actually. Is that bad?

And now, to sleep.