Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Confessional Tuesday on Wednesday

It's Wednesday, which means confessional time.

It used to be on Tuesday, but I am a loser on Tuesday, so I'm sharing confessions on Wednesday.

My confession is that I've stopped coloring my hair.

It's mousy, it's turning gray, and it's too bad.

I can't stand the maintenance.  I've been coloring my hair for 20 years, and I've had it.  I'm bored with it, and it never looks natural, and it never stays.  It stresses me out.

So I'm stopping it.   Everyone thinks I'm crazy, except for my husband, who just doesn't care.

My hair is long, and it's been colored and then highlighted, so it's going to look bad for a while.  I've been there before.  I had the worst whole head highlights when I was pregnant with my son, and there was a definite line around my head where I let my roots grow too long and it was too late to continue the highlighting, but I had it done anyway, at like Supercuts or something.

It was dreadful.  I don't think this time will be as bad, but it will still be bad.

Wish me luck.

If I'm lucky, it'll look this good.

Planning Parenthood

When you have kids, you assume that life will change.  Everyone around you tells you so – even strangers on the street will smile and wink when they know you’re expecting a child, giving the impression that you’re in for it, that your life as you know it is over, that nothing will ever again be the same.  As a soon-to-be-parent, you might relish this challenge and new adventure because you have planned it, you have expected it, you have welcomed it, and you anticipate the joy of having a mini-you out there in the world.

What no one really prepares you for, and what they can’t possibly, are the details of how life will change after children.  My children have been around for a while, but they are young enough that I still remember how life operated before they came along.  For instance, before the kids entered this world, I had the capability to plan things.  I have since lost that capability.

Now, I’m not talking about planning for a vacation, or for a party, or for a girls’ night out, which of course is the sole most important thing in life after having kids.  These things take time, and everyone can find the time to plan major events like them.  I’m talking about minor, everyday plans, like planning to go to the grocery store, or getting a pedicure, or eating lunch.  Having a kid means that a week’s worth of plans goes down the drain when the school nurse calls at 10:30 am and asks you to pick up your feverish child.  In an instant, your work plans/fun plans/household chore plans/watching season four of Mad Men plans dissolve.  You must be on your toes, you must be flexible and above all, you must learn not to let it get to you.  You must deal.

Having children is why I always have a to-do list a mile long.  I never know when my plans will change, and who can remember that the car needs to be inspected?  Everything must be written down or it doesn’t exist.  Who knows when I’ll get to it?  I must drop everything to catch the ball when it drops, and am often holding it instead of tending to plans. 

This is why I can’t commit to weekend plans, or tell you what I am planning on doing next month, next week, or this afternoon.  I avoid planning details of life because they often don’t work out, and I’ve become a pro at rolling with the flow, making things happen on the fly, or squeezing a four-hour chore into 30 minutes.

I plan on redecorating, and one of the kids needs a new mattress.  I plan on shopping for the day, and a kid gets sick.  I plan on going out to eat with my husband, and a last-minute baseball practice is scheduled.  I even plan parenting moments, like how I’ll give my kids the sex talk – it will be one-on-one, at the kitchen table, sharing a snack; it will be meaningful and they will never forget the tender and loving way I explain things.  Then one day my daughter point-blank asks me about the facts of life when we are driving to the grocery store, while I’m trying to remember if we need nutmeg or cinnamon.

When you become a parent, you find out that you can’t ignore parenting.  You learn instead that plans, however carefully made, can wait.

And if you’re me, you better have that sex talk ready.

Friday, March 16, 2012

My Hunger Game

Today, I didn’t eat any candy.  I didn’t drink any wine, or had too much coffee.  I also drank at least eight glasses of water like you’re supposed to.  Why, you ask?  It’s St. Patrick’s weekend and Easter’s coming up, which means that heavenly treats like minty milkshakes and cheap chocolate are around every corner.  Am I crazy?

No.  I am on the Master Cleanse.

It sounds serious, and it is.  I’m definitely not smiling about it.

It all started when my crackpot husband decided that he was going to be positively smashing and skinny.  What better way to do this than a ten-day fast? 

As his wife, and someone who enjoys a good crazy challenge, I opted in.  After all, who better to cheer him on in suffering than his beloved co-crackpot?

The Master Cleanse is a detox-diet-fast where you drink a special drink that magically scrubs your colon cleaner than my countertop on Disinfecting Day.  It contains lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and water.  There are some other details about the cleanse that I will leave to your imagination.  We are talking about the colon, which is on the back end of things, after all.

You emerge from The Master Cleanse feeling healthy and light, looking radiant and strong, and ready to take on the world.

I’m hoping.

I’ve never fasted for anything for any length of time.  Not even during Lent.  I’ve tried, but I always ended up feeling weak for giving into my basic desires and guilty for dissing God by not being able to give anything up for him for a measly 40 days.  The worst was when I gave up wine for Lent and drank vodka instead. 

There is a book that you read when you embark on the Master Cleanse, because if you’re a normal human being you eat, and when you’re on this diet you don’t.  At all.  This requires education beyond the normal starve-myself-for-a-week-before-vacation diet we all do.  Okay, the one that I do.

The Master Cleanse book says that you get all the vitamins and minerals you need from the drink you drink, and if done properly you can stay on it for any length of time with no adverse health effects.  Despite the health benefits of The Master Cleanse, it just sounds crazy and most people are against it.  The book even advises against telling other people that you’re on it, because people who haven’t already drunk the Kool-Aid will only discourage you.  So naturally you’re reading about it here.

Some people stay on it for 40 days, or 90 days, or 372 days.  These people are out of my level of crackpottedness which is measured by only 10 days, and I judge them.  Clearly, they just don’t like to eat.

But I do, and I’m hungry.  And, by the way, I’m only on Day 2.

This is going to be a long 10 days.



Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Confessional Tuesday on Wednesday

I missed Confessional Tuesday, which is stupid because I instituted it to get an easy blog post in and to help with the blogging block which started when we decided to redo some of the rooms in our home, and I couldn't even get THAT done.

So here's my confession for Tuesday, even though it happened today.

It's not much, but here it is.

Today my daughter was making loud farting noises with her mouth on her elbow.

It was very loud and long and obnoxious, and she did it while I was driving.

I made her stop because I couldn't concentrate on the road.

I couldn't concentrate because I found it hysterical, and I was laughing until tears rolled down my face and I had trouble breathing.

Confession:  I taught her how to make those farting noises.

Perfect form makes a perfect fart, every time.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Revelation

It happened today.  A revelation among revelations that standing alone means nothing, but in the context of life and experience means the world.

Revelations are always amazing.  It is the knowledge that your kid is a reflection of yourself, that your parents went through the same trials and tribulations with you that you do today with your own children,  that your friends’ husbands are every bit the nincompoop and savior that your own husband is.

Revelations are the wisdom that you gain from knowing the difference between what matters and what is silly nonsense that should be overlooked in lieu of the real importance of any issue.

And today, the revelation I had is why Don Draper is really Dick Whitman, a fact that I always found confusing but went along with for four seasons of Mad Men, all because I missed two episodes of Season One that I finally caught up with this evening on my way to catching up to be ready for Season Five.

He took the identity of his fellow fallen soldier to escape the ultimate boredom and smallness of his own real life.  I never know why until now.

The puzzle pieces finally fit together, and I can’t wait to see what else I will find, this treasure hunt of a lifetime. 

Revelation.  It is, in a word, priceless. 

Okay.  It can also be pathetic out of context.  Or, in this case, in context.  Whatever.

March 25, peeps.  March Twenty-Fifth, Two Thousand and Twelve.  I will be ready.

Will you?

I can't wait.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Interior Scene

Conversation that I had with myself about 40 minutes ago, when I had exactly 45 free minutes to do something constructive:

Me:  Is 45 minutes enough time to paint some trim?

Me:  Of course.  Yesterday it only took you 30 minutes to do that section of trim over there.  That gives you enough time to paint and wash out your brush.  You don't even have to change your clothes.  You're an expert by now.

Me:  OK.  Looky here.  There's a message on the phone.

Me: (listens to message)

Me:  You don't really have time for this.  Now you have only 40 minutes.

Me:  Forty minutes is still enough time to do one wall.

Me: (sits down at computer to check email, gets sucked into internet vortex)

Me:  You dummy.  Now you only have 30 minutes.  You'll get it done, but you'll have to be late.

Me:  It's OK.  I can be late.

Me:  (continues to sit at computer, having moved onto Facebook)

Me:  You're an idiot.  Now there are only 20 minutes.

Me:  Stop judging me.  I want to know what's going on with my Facebook friends.  Look!  Jessi posted pictures of her new bathroom!  (scrolls through pictures)  Ahhh.... it looks nice. (smiles and nods head appreciatively)

Me:  Just do a blog post now.  Don't try to get deep or philosophical.  You don't have that kind of time, and it takes you forever to put together something worth reading.

Me:  You're not very nice.

Me:  You're still an idiot.

END SCENE

It COULD finish itself, right?
I mean, that's possible, isn't it?