This was my Facebook Status from a couple of days ago:
I am enjoying the 1 1/2 minutes of my week when every single piece of clothing is washed, ironed, folded and put away.
Because even though every piece of wash was completely conquered, people were wearing clothes. Clothes that would, ultimately, be tossed on the floor, shoved under the bed, left to mildew on the floor in the bathroom and be later found huddled behind the toilet, like refugees abandoned by their compatriots.
It started, as most things do lately in my life, on Pinterest.
I loves me some Pinterest.
I saw a recipe for Jello cookies and thought to myself - this would be really cool to make with the kids.
And, being that we needed a dessert to bring to our neighborhood Memorial Day party, I decided to lay in a supply of Jello and let my kids create cookies.
By the time it was over, three people had been sent to their rooms for ugly attitudes, we had powdered Jello mix all over the floor, the blue cookies in the first batch had burned, and I needed a *serious* drink.
I have frizzy hair. Incredibly frizzy hair. Think Roseanna Roseanna Danna and you wouldn't be far off.
For many, many years, I kept my hair very short, in order to avoid the beauty of the above. About 4 years ago, I decided to grow my hair out. I really do love long hair on myself.
I had conveniently forgotten the propensity of my hair to frizz up and out. In fact, I thought to myself today - I don't think that my hair is going to get any longer. It's just going to get more full and fluffy. As the weather heats up, it just gets more and more ridiculous. In August, I'm almost all clipped up because I just can't take it any more.
About two years ago, my hair stylist turned me on to the wonder that is Moroccan Hair Oil. It is truly beautiful stuff. A pump or two in your hair and the frizzies are gone - you are just left with smooth, gorgeous hair. I try, very hard, to never be out of it. I save my pennies, use my Amazon certificates and basically just do what I need to keep it on hand.
But about a week ago I ran out, and I was unable to replace it.
It won't be any different. I told myself. It's probably not the hair oil that's making your hair look so smooth - that's probably just voodoo science. You'll be fine without it.
And, at one of the funerals last week, an older woman who is known for her straight up talk stopped me in the hall. She ran her hand over the side of my hair - You are a mess. Did you mean for it to look this way?
Ouch.
So, clearly, I need the dumb stuff. Lucky for me, a gift certificate appeared in my inbox, and I ordered some. It's much cheaper to buy it on amazon, and because I had a gift certificate, it was even cheaper to me.
It should be here Wednesday. Which doesn't help right now.
So, this morning, when I was getting ready for church, I glanced through the enormous selection of hair and body products that line my bathroom, wondering if I had something there that could tame the frizz.
I saw some Mononi Miracle Oil that I'd been sent by a client, and grabbed it. On the bottle it says, Fabulous in hair. So, I poured a little into my hand and rubbed it in. It smelled great, my hair styled nicely, and I was off to church. Congratulating myself on my ingenuity and brilliance at solving the frizzy hair crisis.
Which, by the end of Mass, had evolved into the GREASY HAIR CRISIS. Because, apparently, this is
CONDITIONING OIL. WHICH MEANS PUT SOME ON AND WASH IT OUT. NOT LEAVE IT IN YOUR HAIR ALL DAY, YOU IDIOT.
Yeah. I'm sporting a "Special" kind of hair style right about now.
I am a member of the Arimatheans at my church. It is more casually known as the funeral Ministry. I assist in any way necessary at a funeral Mass. I might carry candles. I might serve as a Eucharistic Minister. I do what I need to do.
I like this job.
I am also on the Bereavement Ministry, which is somewhat different - I help with the receptions after the funerals, if the family requests that one is to be held. A couple of people serve on both.
There were four funerals this week. I helped at three of them.
Tonight, my middle school kids had an awards ceremony. It was for technology.
I loves me some technology.
Would read all day if allowed.
My son received an Honorable mention type of award, and my daughter received two trophies. One for a group project, and one for best all around in technology.
I will survive. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.
I was proud of both of my kids.
She has the best friends ever.
When one of the teachers was presenting an award for the "Six Words" project, she took some time to explain it. (I've been at this school - with my kids, duh - for 15 years. My 4th kid is in middle school. I have a couple of teachers that I really like, and a number less than that who I admire - but this one teacher is my particular favorite for this middle school child - and ties with another in a different grade for my favorite ever. The instruction is top notch and the teacher really goes out of her way to be a tough, yet fair and firm, teacher who makes learning exceptional.)
Tries to avoid ending in prepositions
The "Six Words Project" is based on a work by Ernest Hemingway. In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway’s colleagues bet him that he couldn’t write a complete story in just six words. They paid up. Hemingway is said to have considered it his best work. His story? " For sale: baby shoes, never used."
Loves to eat, hates to clean.
Which immediately, you know, got me to thinking. What would my six word story be?
Sings very loudly, sings very badly.
Lives to eat, exercises to live.
Watch what you do. They do.
Dances like a fool, dances often.
She drinks coffee. Way too often.
Seeking serenity, she instead finds laundry.
This is fun. I could do it forever - but I wonder - what would your six word story be?
I think that many adults are missing a valuable skill - and in missing this skill, they (obviously) cannot pass it on to their children -
They do not know how to sit still and be quiet
A skill that I'm working REALLY hard on teaching my kids - with varying levels of success.
For example, I was extra proud of my two youngest girls tonight. We went to a band concert. It was one hour long. They wanted to sit in the front row so that they could see. There were only two seats, and I sat five rows behind them in the next open seats. They sat TOTALLY STILL the entire hour. They were amazeballs good.
But there were kids much older than they are - as well as adults, who were bouncing around, chatting and playing and ignoring the concert - and those kids worked so, so hard to be able to play well. They deserved to be heard. I'm no angel, but my mama taught me to be quiet.
I learned at a young age that if you aren't enjoying something - well, that's what you have an imagination for - start thinking. But keep your mouth stapled shut.
So. Now you know my secret. I'm a big grinch. But this is not my first time around the rodeo and I really feel strongly that this skill is missing in a large part of today's society. And the people around you suffer for the lack of it.
Now, I am not speaking to giving your kid your phone, iPad, what have you - we do that sometimes. But often, we don't. Because what if you don't have it? Or the battery runs down - or, you know, you are at a school show and you are bored? Or you have a boss who drones on and on and on - will you whip out your phone and play Temple Run?
And, I know - it gets late in the evening and people get tired and kids have spectrum stuff and everyone has places to go and things to do - but when my spectrum kiddo get whipped out of shape she gets whipped out of the place where she's freaking out - I don't expect everyone else to listen to her have a meltdown. She needs to learn, though, that it's not appropriate and just because she has struggles that other people don't have doesn't mean that their tolerance needs to become a blind eye towards letting other people enjoy their evening. I've missed an awful lot of church/movies/performances/talks/parties because my kid just won't settle - and it's my job and my duty to take care of her and respect the other people around me.
Did I ever tell you about the time that my kids were loud and obnoxious in Mass - and I made them sit through a second Mass? They sit quietly now.
And not every kid that runs around like a fool has a spectrum diagnosis.
Whatever happened to just being still and listening?
And, yeah, I'm grumpy and I'm tired. But I can see why people don't want kids around, don't invite kids to places and flat out don't enjoy kids.
Item # 47 - Attend a Renaissance Fair. Preferably in costume.
Well, the costume part didn't pan out, but I did attend a Renaissance Fair this weekend. It wasn't a very big one, and to be honest, I was a *little* bit disappointed - but I can now say that I attended a Renaissance Fair.
I thought it would be more exciting - and, maybe it would be, in a larger setting. It was held at a large farm/educational setting - kind of like a working farm, with lots of chickens/geese/llamas/alpacas/etc around for the kids to look at. It wasn't a farm in that you could see pigs and cows, although there were horses there. So this was kind of like a hybrid "Farm Tour" meets "Wanna Be Ren Fair".
I first heard about the Ren Fair when I opened my email on Thursday. I had received one of those daily deal type things, and could buy my ticket for half off - for $10. Good deal, I thought. Except that my kids tickets were also $10 - so for me and four kids, it was $50. Which seemed spendy to me, but maybe I'm cheap and so we went. Probably you get something included in that ticket price.
Except that you didn't.
"Unicorn rides" - ponies with ceramic horns attached to their heads - were $5 for a turn around the center. So maybe a 2 minute ride? I was really surprised that the first ride wasn't included. To me, that would have been a good deal. Include one ride, stamp the wrist band - you know after one ride most kids want another, so you will definitely get your money back.
I might want one of these for the house
Every boy deserves to try the Sword in the Stone at least once in his life
Tractor posing - sadly, there were no tractor rides. Although, I'm unsure if tractors were around during the Renaissance?
Most all of the "fair" was vendors hawking crafts. Which was fine and dandy and lovely, but walking around and seeing people dressed in costume selling stuff really isn't my idea of a fun time. We tried to watch the falconry show, but it was so windy that the microphones didn't work and the birds wouldn't cooperate - so we bagged on that.
The Blacksmith was pretty cool, though.
So we bagged on the "fair" part of it for a little while and hung out with the animals.
Feeding the goats through the pen
This is the part where the city people say, "What the hell?? You were in a big cage with turkey and chickens and roosters RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?? And the Country people say, "eh, Whatevs. Every day around here."
I'll tell you what, Peacocks are pretty, but they are LOUD.
And we got our faces painted.
The Ren Fair was redemed, though, when the jousting began. Man, that was insane.
Our side was rooting for Sir Ripper, who tossed flowers into the crowd
The King and Queen were in attendance
Getting geared up for the Joust
Jousting is immensely cool and very exciting - especially when people get tossed of their horses. Except, weirdly, for this woman next to me. Every time someone fell off, she'd snap her video closed and announce, quite loudly, to her child - although we all knew it was a reprimand to all around - "When someone gets HURT, it's no longer fun and we don't video tape them. It's bad manners."
Eh, whatevs. Clearly I have no manners. Take it up with my mother.
I still want to go to a REAL Renaissance Fair. In a costume. This was fun for my kids, though.
I am the mom of four girls. Two boys as well, but saying that I have two boys doesn't get quite the same reaction as saying I have four daughters.
Knowing what it was like to be a teenage girl, I like to think I'm more sensitive to the "firsts" my daughters will go through, and I really have to focus on trying to make sure I'm not blase about the special moments. After all, once you've gone over the first makeup/first date/first kiss conversations, it can be a bit of deja vu to do it three more times.
But my second or third or fourth time around is still her first, and I try to keep the excitement and the energy going for each and every occasion. I try to focus on the "firsts", personalize them and make them special for each daughter.
I remember when I decided it was time for me to shave. I decided. Did you catch that? I'd asked my mother, naturally, and just as naturally, my mother said NO. So because I'm clearly thick and stubborn and I know better than, oh, just about everyone,I took her razor and went into the bathroom myself.
Sorry, Mom. You don't know this story, and you might want to stop now.
I knew nothing about the need for shaving cream, had no idea you shaved against the direction of hair growth on your legs, and, well let's just say there is a two-inch long, white scar on the outside of each of my ankles that required a hefty amount of pressure and maybe could have used a stitch or two.
I made sure when my daughters were ready to start shaving - and I've had two begin the shaving process, with a third in hot pursuit - I would make sure they know all about it. I promised to show them how to shave, encourage them to use the correct product and above all, how to avoid cutting themselves.
My girls have been fans of the Venus Embrace razor for a while now. With FIVE blades - back when I started you were hot stuff if you had two blades - plus a Ribbon of Moisture for a comfortable shave with fewer nicks and cuts, this razor not only means business but helps them achieve a close shave with a minimum of discomfort. With the Venus Embrace, I know that my girls are in good hands.
In addition to the Venus Embrace, they love the Satin Care Passionista Fruit shave gel. The fruity scent is wonderful, and the silky gel-turned-foam provides even more moisture for a smooth shave.
I know my daughters pay a lot of attention to their appearance and I want to make sure they are getting the right information from me. What are some of the ways you tackle conversations like shaving (or other tough "firsts") with your daughter? Leave me a comment to be entered to win a $50 Visa gift card, courtesy of BlogHer and Venus.
Rules:
No duplicate comments. You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods: a) Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post b) Tweet about this promotion and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post c) Blog about this promotion and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post d) For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry. This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. You have 72 hours to get back to me, otherwise a new winner will be selected. The Official Rules are available here.
This sweepstakes runs from 5/21 - 6/30
Be sure to visit the Venus Brand feature page on BlogHer.com where you can read other bloggers’ reviews and find more chances to win! And if you want some great shaving tips for first-time shavers, go here.
When I was pregnant with my first child, my hsuband forbade me to put any clowns in his room.
He thought that they were creepy.
I didn't get it at the time. Now, I understand. I don't like clowns myself. At all.
When I was a kid, I thought that if I walked too close to the sewer drains, I'd fall down them. I had a plan in my head for how I'd alert people to my "under their feet" presence.
Yes. I read "It" by Stephen King. I still can't be in the shower if the water is not running. I have to get out right!away!
I remembered this when I went for a walk today and ended up sliding over towards the drain to get away from a too fast car.
I used to worry about getting my foot stuck in an escalator. And then, one day, I did.
What are your truly irrational fears - the ones that you know *probably* won't happen, but still might, and so you keep them in the back of your mind?
On the down side (because I always believe in starting off on the down side, because then there is NO WHERE TO GO BUT UP!!!):
i went to the mall. Two days in a row.
To look for shorts. Which is every bit as alarming as one might think given that
I have thick and stubby legs and high standards for shorts.
By which I mean, they should not cup under my butt. They should not be as long as my kneecaps. They definitely should not taper, making me feel as if I am a sausage stuffed into a casing. They should have no words on the butt. They should look, you know, like shorts.
My stainless steel garbage can lid broke off. Which we have fixed thrice, which means I get to buy a new garbage can.
Hold me back from the excitement.
My lovely and gorgeous necklace, featuring my children's names in a circle, fell off when I was shopping and is totally lost.
I realized that I not only double booked myself on Saturday, I quadruple booked myself. That takes a SPECIAL kind of talent.
The month of May always kills me, with all of the year end crud crammed in to one month. Graduations, concerts, performances, etc etc etc.
It has rained every day this week. The forecast looks exactly.the.same until Sunday evening. The pressure in the air means I've had a headache almost every single day this week.
And I went to the dentist. Where I found out that my spectrum kiddo is going to need a palate expander - her four missing top teeth have been out since Sept - and they haven't come down because there's no ROOM for them to come down.
I don't think that there's been a day since 1992 that I haven't been tired. So, so tired - and almost every day, I wake up with a headache. That gets old after a while.
WANTED, Carmen, mom to the Masses, for dangerous undertakings inside and outside the home. Last seen with her partner The Hubster, and six accomplices (Nikolas 20, Allegra 18, Mackenzie 15, Gabriel 13, Emma 10 and Riley 9). This fugitive is considered armed (with epi pens and inhalers) and dangerous, especially when she hasn't had her morning coffee. She is particularly difficult to recognize due to an 80 pound weight loss and has been known to hide beneath large piles of laundry. She has her Black Belt in Muay Thai and can be found reading, training Crossfit, boxing or running to the store for milk and bread. And coffee. Always the Coffee.
