December 2006 Archives

A few notes of holiday delight and then I'll move on to my new year's resolutions.

1. I'm listening to Justin Timberlake's "Sexyback" on the treadmill the other day. And there's some very prominent guy in the background, I'm sure, following up each line of his lyrics, "TAKE IT TO THE CHORUS!" Stuff like that. It occurs to me as I increasingly begin to lose oxygen that I've heard something like that before. But where? I get showered, get the kids, get in the car, and crank up the CHristmas music. And that's when I heard it. Mr. Frank Sinatra and Mr. Bing Crosby are crooning Jingle Bells to me and I think it's Bing in the middle of the song who freestyles, "Rap the verse". I kid you not. I could not be more proud. Of what, I'm not sure, but I'm so proud to have found what I feel is the original gangsta rapper.

2. Bette Midler has a new Christmas album out. I love Bette Midler. Love her music, her books, and her cause. But I just giggle everytime I think of her having a Christmas album out seeing as how she's JEWISH and all.

3. I shopped with the kids at the mall so hard, so focused one day that I didn't know how to get back out of the store. I had to ask the cashier for directions out of the store. While he obliged my odd request, my kids sat on my feet while I walked. They are almost 50 pounds each. I didn't get very far. On my way out, with my directions, I asked, "Okay, that's the way out, where's the martini bar?" The kid just laughed, but I was pretty serious.

After bathing each of the kids this morning, I was getting them dressed. Max, ofcourse, insisted that he wear his Nebraska football jersey, helmet, pants, but could go without the shoulder pads for the time being. It's Christmas, or it was. So, I opted to not fight that "you can't wear this every day" battle. For goodness sake, santa brought it. So, I got him all dressed. And as I went to brush his teeth, he stopped and said,
"Does this make me look fat?"

I don't know WHERE he may have heard that...

I'm guessing he's heard the phrase enough to just regurgitate it. However, what he MEANT was, did it make him look BIG like a football player. The kid is tall and skinny.

I'm off to the therapist!
That's how I roll.

At the risk of spoiling our children we went wacko buying Christmas gifts for the kids this year. I try all season to beat it into their heads what the TRUE meaning of Christmas is, and the bonus ideas that come of it.

"Lucy, what's the true meaning of Christmas?"

"Jesus' birthday."

"And what's the other true meaning."

With a monotone boredom in her voice, "Sharing and giving to others."

Sigh. It's hard for me to hold back the other points of Christmas: a time for family to drive us crazy only to open up the gift they have selected for you. It's a perfect communication of whether they love you, or know you at all. And then there's baking. That's an important factor of Christmas, yes? Do you think Mary carefully deliberated on what kind of snacks to have out when all of those visitors came? Triscuits or Ritz. Spinach artichoke dip or Queso. I'm sure she was heavily conflicted on the dietary restraints and preferences of the three wise men, as giving birth to the Messiah wasn't enough, she was going to have to wow them with delicious food.

Ricardo and I had so much fun shopping for the kids. We let them tell santa one item they want for Christmas. That's because santa and the reindeer can only carry so much for the 4 millionish children of the WORLD. Lucy's request proved that she is indeed sharp. She opted to go really vague: A princess doll. What's that? Crap. Max asked for a Nebraska football helmet. You can imagine my delight of greatness that I revelled in when he asked for it, I'd already had it stored in the house. I'm THAT good, people. Woohoo! The kids visited santa about 3 weeks before Christmas. 3 DAYS before Christmas, Max pleaded with the both of us that he needed to tell santa he was "just joking" that what he REALLY wanted for Christmas was Roller Shoes. Super. Santa brought him his helmet. Mommy and Daddy gave him the roller shoes. All is right with the world.

Just when the kids were getting whiney and we were concerned that we were spoiling them, Christmas came and we were reminded of how gracious our kids are.

Ricardo explained last night, "I just almost cried." Apparently Max had come up to him and said, "Dad, thanks for my modified (that's a specialty race car). It's off the CHIZNAY!" He's four. And we are so proud that we've taught our four-year-olds gratittude and the language of Snoop. God Bless us one and all.

That's how I roll.

We just got back from the mother of all road trips. I've mentioned that I road trip before. I just like it. Getting out and seeing the open road, seeing the countryside at 80 mph. But getting to sit down with the kids in the back, quiet and happy and strapped in...that's what I'm really going for. 15 hours to Austin. 3 hours to DFW. 12 hours back home. We travelled to see several people. I'm hoping that we did not offend anyone by missing them, by not seeing them, but really. We saw so many people in such little time, the day we woke up to go home, I told Lucy, "We're going home today!"

Her response, "MOM, we need to go see more people!"

Interesting, coming from a 4 year old who had slept in a different place each night for 5 nights.

I revisited my cousin with the pantry, as noted here. She has a new home and new pantry. I told her part of my plans when we got there was to inspect her new pantry. She explained that she has a bigger home with a smaller pantry, almost with a tone of shame. So, I hunted it out as soon as I got there. "Oh, it's a MESS, Les. I haven't gotten to organize it lately." Um, yeah. You be the judge:

I am so not worthy of this woman's greatness.

But the beauty of having a Martha Stewart in the family at Christmas time is sweets! That girl can cook! I was expecting to get my hand on some bourbon balls while visiting my family. It's required at this point. Martha didn't disappoint me. She had a little to-go box for me, packaged just beautifully, ofcourse.

Somewhere in Kansas, on our way back, I was in search of yet another snack. I love to snack continually...non-stop...I'm not even exaggerating, on road trips. The issue arises when I'm working on hour 15 in the car and still gnashing. No joke people. I can do it, and I do. Sure, I've got gum and sunflower seeds, but most of the time it's me alternating between something crunchy and salty and something sweet. For HOURS, I do this. To interrupt my grazing, I call people and catch up on my correspondence. Should someone call me, I usually answer with muffled "Hello" as I chew. I have no shame in the eating game.

Back to somewhere in Kansas... I was driving, and I was in search of sweet. And so, I grabbed a bourbon ball. I took a couple of bites, and Ricardo decided he'd try one. He took one bite and said, "Are you sure you should be eating that while driving?"

I worried for the next two hours that I'd fail a breathalizer should I be pulled over. It was worth it though. Man, that girl can cook!

Upon my arrival, we were greeted with Farley The Wonderdog and a note from his very gracious sitter. Here's an exerpt of the people I choose to surround myself with:
"I let him up on the couch to watch a documentary on Billy Graham with me. Hope that was ok...about the Billy Graham thing! Then he ran upstairs and jumped on your bed."

Good boy, Farley!

That's how I roll.

Dear Lola,
I refer to you as a new mom of twins, although you haven't had the babies, yet. The day you discovered you were pregnant, you were a mom. It's a wonderful adventure you've jumped into. I thought I'd share a few things with you and the thousands, wait, maybe millions of my readers. So, without further ado, here's a little side order of my infinite wisdom, so far.

The recipe for success with having twins, in my humble opinion, is that they have a good father. I know the guy who did this to you. Rocky is a wonderful man, father, friend and person. It's been recent that I've noticed his unending energy. This can only help you. I've NEVER seen Rocky tired or dull, so this is good. Take advantage of that. Those babies will suck the day right out of the both of you. I know you're thinking, it's two babies, what could they possibly need that would be so hard? NEVER EVER ASK THAT AGAIN.

What to expect when you're expecting Really, this book should only be one page. This is what it should say, "Expect nothing." Take all of your plans, and wad them up, because those babies are in your womb right now writing their very own version of what you can expect. Rule numero uno: take advice with a light heart. People mean well, but really, other than me, they aren't usually quite right. It's a big melting pot of trying to remember what someone told you they did, and living in the moment of sheer exhaustion mixed with not one, but two screaming babies.

Desperate times call for desperate measures since you have that great guy, Rocky, around, it's time to tell you the secret to it all. Love is good, respect, and all that stuff. Blah, blah blah. The true key to life with twins is communication. Talk everything out. Assume nothing. Lay it all out there. If you can squeeze a please and thank you in there, that's bonus. It's hard to, but try to take care of each other as well as the babies. Tell each other what you need.You're about to be two people who are madly in love with each other who will be trapped in a house, starving, exhausted, and shuttling babies to and from the feeding station and the diaper changing table. You'll be miserable, tired, hungry, worried you're not alert enough for your babies. It'll be the most wonderful experience your sleep deprived heart will ever experience.

The thing about pooh: A very wise woman once told me when I was pregnant something that's still applicable today. "You and Ricardo will talk about the consistency and frequency of pooh for years to come." Man, was she RIGHT! Max and Lucy are four-years-old now, and still overwhelmed with the thing about pooh.
We are so excited for you because truly, as much angst, worry, exhaustion, confusion and guilt these kids have given us, it's been more greatness than we could have ever imagined. Even, the pooh. Unite forces together.

The same wise woman told me "You can't spoil babies, it's impossible." I still think there IS a line there that you can, indeed cross. Here's what we were adamant about: never EVER put them in bed with you. Up until this past year, the kids were not allowed in our bed at all. Now, they are allowed to get in our bed when they wake up because there’s days we just want to sleep just a little bit longer, which never ends up happening…But the line is way over on the other side. When they are babies, enjoy all your time with them.

Your happiness is based solely on your children's consistent sleep and eat schedule. Still to this day, the kids go to bed at 7p and wake up at 7p. Sleep and eats are the key issues here. They are happy kids when they have full bellies and are well rested. I'm a firm believer that they just need their sleep.

You really will be trapped in the house with them. There's issues of illness risk and all that. Have I mentioned you'll be too tired to leave the house? So, treat it like a hurricane. Stock up your pantry, and get the generator out. When I was a kid, we had to get ready for a few hurricanes, and I just remember thinking, it'll be nice to just stop and be together, enjoy the time together. That time wore off quickly. Make sure before these babies come, that you and Rocky have a good repoire and know what to expect of each other. You have no clue what two small babies can do to you. So, go with what you know and what you CAN plan for. And that is, talk it out with each other on what you two expect of each other. The kids have their own agenda, usually filled with pooh.

Don't be a hero. This is my final and most important PLEA to you. DO NOT BE A HERO! By that, I mean, don't try to poo-poo Rocky and do it yourself. Most moms do this because he doesn't do it right, or it's just easier to get up and do it yourself. That's crap. You'll be a better mom if you guys do this all together. And I mean ALL. Now, I am well aware that men can't breastfeed. (Can you imagine if they could? They'd probably never leave the house.) BUT, you're damn right he can get up and bring the babies to you. Go halfsies as much as you can. Tag Team it.

For now, this is all I can tell you -in public. There's more, but I'll wait for you to ask. Here's some topics that might cross your mind:

-That pee thing when you sneeze.
-Items you'll need in preparation for the babies' coming home.
-Items you'll need for the hospital when you deliver.
-What you'll need two of, one of, and multiple bulks of.(Consider a membership to Sam's Club or Costco)

I hope in some way, this has helped. We are so excited for you and Rocky! Ricardo and I have been successful in all of this in that our marriage is in tact. We have survived unending amounts of diapers. We are now well rested people who still like each other as well as our kids. That's a tangible measurement of our success. We think we're doing all right, atleast...hmmm....

That's how I roll!

I've got some new routine on the treadmill. At this point in my life, I'm just going with it, because I like it. I've been known to put on a few pounds simply because I don't wanna. I don't wanna go do that lame ass workout. And I get FITNESS magazine. They give you all kinds of new tips on how to firm up an already fit body. But really, do you really want to see some fatty at the gym trying some one-legged squat and then pop-up push-ups? 12-15 reps. You're welcome. Really, I'm sparing you. Us "big-boned" people simply don't want to draw anymore attention to ourselves in our already freaky deaky looking FatGuyInALittleCoat workout clothes. You know what I'm talking about too. Yes you do. Tank top and bike shorts? C'mon. Uggh.

I'm quite the sight too. I have preferences. I don't want sleeves. Don't want my legs to show. Don't want my hair to bounce or touch my skin. My socks have to be just so that the seam doesn't rub on my pinky toe. So, there it is, pasty white 6'3" chick with WIDE LOAD BIRTHIN HIPS sporting horns on top of head so that hair does not bounce, nor stick to skin at nape of neck. Mmmmhmmm. Yeah, wearing a tank top and capris or yoga pants. Why do they call them yoga pants anyways? I wear them all over the place. My favorite pair, I got on sale. I now know why. The right leg is three inches longer than the left leg. So, one leg is full length, one leg is a long capri. And I care not. Clearly, the odd pant legs is the least of my visual worries. Yes? I'm quite the sight.

I've mentioned this before, I'm sure, but if people had a clue what this freaky looking, big-boned, horned-hair stay-at-home mom was listening to. Oh Lawdy. I like motivating music. But I like ironic tunes as well. So, I'm guessing, who knows, that I'm the only 30 something mom there rocking out to some gangsta rap. I'm just guessing. Lately, my favorites have been stuff that I think I should be the female version of Weird Al Yankovich. Like, Sexyback. Justin Timberlake should have called me. I can see a video of sheer mockery of me singing it on the treadmill, maybe even a little treadmill jig. I'm working on it.

There's a song by the Pussycat Dolls I like, too. Now, visualize a big fatty singing this to you:
I'm tellin' you to loosen up my buttons babe (Uh huh)
But you keep frontin' (Uh)
Sayin' what you gon' do to me (Uh huh)
But I ain't seen nothin' (Uh)

Typical and hardly
The type i fall for
I like when the physical
Don't leave me askin' for more
I'm a sexy mama (Mama)
Who knows just how to get what I wanna (Wanna)
What I wanna do is bring this on ya (On ya)
Back up all of the things that I told ya (Told ya)

You've been sayin' all the right things all night long
But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off
Baby, can't you see?
How these clothes are fittin' on me
And the heat comin' from this beat
I'm about to blow
I don't think you know

Here's some more lyrics I rock out to every day on the treadmill. I feel it's worth sharing:
1. Lend me some suga', I am your neighbor ahh here we go!
Shake it, shake, shake it, shake it (OHH OH)
Shake it, shake it, shake, shake it, shake it, shake it (OHH OH)
Shake it, shake it like a Polaroid Picture, shake it, shake it
Shh you got to, shake it, shh shake it, shake it, got to shake it
(Shake it Suga') shake it like a Poloroid Picture

2. Love the way my ass bump bump bump bump bump bump
Keep your eyes on my bump bump bump bump bump
And think you can handle this ga-dunk ga-dunk dunk

3. Yo, if your boss is a S-O-B
Tell him to S-H-O-V-E the J-O-B
Put your middle finger up slowly
Put it close enough to his face so he can examine it closely
Say I ain't workin here no more
Who do you think you are?
Rip your apron off, throw it on the floor
Run to the door, to the payphone
Make a toll-free call
Tell your spouse what happened and where you are
So they can come and get you in the car later on
And help you search for a new 9 to 5 job
If the unemployment line ain't that long
You can take your time printin out W-9 forms
Eventually, you'll get on if you try hard enough
And you'll get money if you keep punchin your time card enough
Maybe you hate it, maybe you love it
But if you hate it all you gotta do is get mad and tell the boss to
[Biz Markie]
Take this job and shove it
I ain't workin here no more
Take this job and shove it
I ain't workin here no more
Take this job and shove it
I ain't workin here no more
Take this job, take this job, take this job and shove it

Oh man, I'm laughing as I read it. Hope you enjoy. If you need some references so you can download this stuff, just let me know. I'll be happy to help liberate your workout experience.

Off to the gym.
That's how my rolls roll.

Max, one day, I'll explain why it's so important that I share your infinite insight with the world. For now, just know that it's your undeniable wit and charm that just needs to be shared with all. It's a gift.

On the way home from school today:

"Mom. When we go on road trips and we have to go outside to pee, you can see ALL THE STARS!"

Maybe we're roadtripping in desolate places just a little too much.
That's how he rolls, and so, It's how I'll roll.

While searching for the ultimate parking space at the gym, I realized something ironic. The Employee of the Month parking space is always empty.

Some may say, "Hey, if you're on the way to the gym, why do you need such a great parking space? Can't you park and walk?" Well, yes, I can. It's managing myself, a large gym bag and two 4 year-olds that tends to be the end of me. Also, it's' noteworthy to mention that yesterday it was 2 degrees. I don't function well when it's below 80. I should really move closer to the equator...

I am a tshirt reader. I love reading tshirts. I particularly enjoy clever tees. So, when I saw a guy wearing a shirt on Bob Barker's Showcase Showdown that read "SPAYED" on it. I had to stop the treadmill and laugh outloud in front of everyone at the gym. That was golden. Thank you mister loser guy on The Price Is Right for the gift of laughter as you got your 5 minutes of fame. I really appreciate you.

That's how I roll.

About a year ago, we loaded up my family and borrowed greatgramma's minivan (we were either that far behind or greatgramma is that advanced) to go clean out my dad's house. Sad as it was, we were in great need to sell it so that we weren't making two house payments. So we all migrated down to Texas to clean out the house.

The 15-hour road trip apparently was going just a little too smoothly. Only 45 minutes left in the trip, and the minivan stalled. It was 2 a.m. and we were in HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS.

After a little cell phone glory, we got someone to come out and help us. The tow truck and 19 year-old kid show up. Lo and behold, he doesn't carry gas in his truck. So, Chris comes to the door, locks it, and says,"Stay here, I'm going with him to get gas."

And if you're from Texas, you know about Huntsville, I'm just going to pause now for dramatic effect. Still pausing.

It was too quick for me to tell him, "You're leaving me and your children on the side of the road at 2 a.m. in Huntsville, Texas." Ricardo isn't from Texas. So, he doesn't know that Huntsville is home to THIRTEEN (that I can count) prisons/penetiaries, one (maybe more) being death row. Super.

Not enough time to tell him, "Oh I know you DIDN'T"

That was the longest 22 minutes I've ever experienced in my life. I checked to make sure my phone was on, thought to call someone. My thinking was, if I was on the phone with them, when the death row victim showed up to kill us all, I'd have someone on the phone to call 911. But who do I call? I didn't want to wake anyone up. And I hear all of my galpals through the screen as I type saying, "Oh GIRL YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED ME!" I know, I should have. In hindsight, it would have helped. But I didn't want to wake the babies up.

And there it is. You know you're a mom when you're not willing to phone for help because you're now going through the scariest Type A Scary Movie Scenario, simply on the basis that you'll wake the babies. DO NOT WAKE THE BABIES.

We sat, and waited.

When Ricardo got back to the car, I laid into him with what I tried to tell him when he left, "OH I KNOW YOU JUST DIDN'T LEAVE ME HERE! WE ARE SURROUNDED BY PRISONS!" His response was brilliant, but not at the time: "Baby, no prisonbreak is going to try to steal a car broken down on the roadside." Good point, but still, don't do that again. Baby, please, don't do that again.

Ricardo who is a car genius and the 19 year-old rookie could not figure out what was wrong with the car. They loaded it up on the flat bed of the tow truck. That's when the babies woke up. Oh, this was scary. I had to lay it out just right,
"The car broke. But Daddy got us help, and look, some nice man is going to tow us to get it fixxed."

They looked out to see how high up they were, and still in a daze, they were frightened. So, I tried again, this time, with success, "We're on a cool tow truck. Max, remember your toy tow truck you have at home? We're riding on one! Isn't that cool!?" I knew if I could sell one on the idea, the other would eventually calm down.

At the garage place, it was discovered that we'd have to stay overnight. And that's when it hit me, for the price it would cost to get it fixxed in the morning, we could have this guy tow us all the way to my dad's house. The kids and I rode on the back of a flatbed all the way to Destination Dad's house, while Ricardo rode up front with poor rookie tow truck guy who had to drive all the way back after we were done.

We made it. But I'm still bitter that Ricardo left me, so cute and petite, unable to fend for myself, in the middle of prime prison break country. I imagine that had anyone tried anything, I'd have whipped out a big ol can of woop ass to protect my kids. But I'm just sayin, baby, don't do that again!

In Ricardo's defense, he didn't know about Huntsville. I think it hit him later that the whole Carla Faye Tucker gig and a few others were broadcast there. But he didn't realize it then. He knows now. Oh, he knows now!

That's how I roll.

In a time when we're willing to brave Walmart to buy presents for others but the task of getting our butts to church on Sunday morning is so hard, it's no wonder that kids don't understand the true meaning of Christmas. The truth is, some adults don't.

Do you know why we put Christmas trees in our houses during the season? Why, it's because Perry Como and Johnny Mathis told us to. Or, there's SOME meaning to it.
"So, let me get this straight mom, Santa is an old man who sneaks in your house and entices us kids with presents?" Uh, yeah.

Last weekend, I dragged my kids to a church we don't attend to see their rendition of Bethlehem. Really, it was cool. We walked through a hallway and there were vendors and such. It was a neat treat to take the kids back in time. They immediately called Gramma to tell her they went on a road trip to Bethlehem AND the Sea of Galilea. They saw baby Jesus, Mary, AND Joseph on a cell phone.

Still, most of our efforts to celebrate the season involve Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, great food and candy canes. Just when I fully doubt that my kids don't get it about Christmas, last night Ricardo checks on Lucy before we go to bed and comes out saying, "You HAVE to see this."

At bed time, we'd both heard her telling a very elaborate story to the 496 stuffed animals she insists on having in her bed. She kept it up a while and then eventually dozed off in mid-sentence. Neither of us could quite make out what the story was about until we saw her sleeping. She was snuggled up to the manger scene we decorate her room with.

God Bless Us One and All.
That's how I roll.

Tonight we made soup and served it in bread bowls. I know. I'm that good. We had to heat the bowls up in the oven, to which Ricardo got all excited and exclaimed, "Hey, there's a bun in your oven!"

I, thinking it was so clever and funny just had to call someone. See, the irony is that MY "oven" doesn't really cook buns anymore. If you need a detailed explanation, just call me. Make sure you're comfy and have a nice warm cup of coffee because it'll take a while, and at the end of it, you'll just say, "Bless your heart!"

I dialed up the perfect pal who would be a little stunned at first, then remember my drastic measures, and then giggle with me. It was perfect.

Ring-a-ling

"Hey girl what's up!?"

Me giggling, and then: "Girl, I called to tell you I've got a bun in the oven!"

"Oh, you too?"

I'm sure I said something clever and funny and then interrupted myself, "Wait, did you just say, 'You, too?"

"Yes."

Super. Just like her to steal my thunder like that.

I'm sure everyone has one. That little mystery that no one is quite sure about. The question you've always wanted to ask, to get the answer to. At my house, it's the natural color of my hair. I can cite countless stories on the grounds of my everchanging hair cuts and colors.

My rockstar pal has told me on more than one occasion, "I love it when we get to visit each other. It's half the fun discovering what you'll look like."

My favorite is my debate with my hair stylist:

"I think I want to go natural with my color. I'm just not loving the color thing, and it's getting a bit old and expensive. I want to go to my natural color"

Foxxy Hairstylist who is 15 years younger than me: "Okay, what is your natural hair color?"

long pause...

"I don't know. It's been so long. I have no idea nor recollection of what my natural hair color is. With what I'm paying you, shouldn't that be something you can assess?"

Foxxy Hairstylist laughs and says, "Well, you'll have to let your roots grow out like you did last time when you cancelled your appointment and waited too long last time. I don't remember what the color was, but I remember the roots were practically down to your shoulders."

Sweet.

Once again, I've decided to go naturale. (Somebody hold me to this when I post that maybe I need to lighten my hair up again.) It was good in theory and on paper I'd be saving about $500-$600. I'm also tired of keeping up with the blondes. I feel like I'm trying to look younger and inevitably pulling off the opposite. All the old fake-baked wrinkly ladies at the gym are blondes with bad roots too. Granted, their boobs are bigger. And perkier. But you know, their hair is really odd looking to me. And so, I decided to go with what God gave me. If I could just remember what that is.

It seemed to me that justifying our budget to Ricardo that I needed to drop even more cash for the very same person who made me blonde to take the hair back to it's natural state was a bit ridiculous. I've colored my hair, and had it colored. I blame my mother and my sister the "cosmetologist" who is way older than me. My mom let her practice cutting ON ME the day before my second grade pictures. Thanks mom. And sister, you know who you are...I'm still bitter. But you two DID introduce me to the junky life of hair color. So thanks for that too. I've been coloring my hair for probably 14 years. Lawdy, was that some kind of step of admission from the twelve step program?

I know that for me to go blonde, I dare not do that myself. But to go dark. I can manage. So I go to the store, get some hair color. I try to get real about it and make sure I get "dull brown" and not the foxxy roxxy red or something like that. I even snagged a mirror out of cosmetics and took it to the hair color aisle. I didn't realize how long it'd been since I'd colored my hair myself. It's an entire aisle. Seriously. The possibilities are endless. And I almost got sucked in with foxxy roxxy red, but stuck with the plan and found a nice dull brown for me.

It's too dark. This will be the first time every, in the history of me, that I will grow my roots out LIGHTER than my hair color. I tried to go with it. Tried to like it. But just couldn't do it. I called Julz and forewarned her that when I walk in her house, I'm not a burglar, I've just colored my hair. She welcomes me at the door, and says, "I like it. It's dark. But it brings out your eyes." Y'all, this girl is too sweet. She didn't even tag on a "Bless your heart" or anything like that. After I begged her for some constructive criticism and threatened to punch her in the belly if she didn't help me she finally fessed up that maybe a shade lighter would be okay, but that again, it looks fine. MMM-HMMM..... So I called my favorite hair advisor who had already advised me that she liked me blonde. Woopsie. She advised me that indeed, I could fix it by coloring it again without damaging it. So I drag my entire family to wally world in December on a Saturday and get more haircolor. Lo- it's DARKER with a red hue now. I specifically got some Ash gig to alleviate any red, and here it is. I give up.

So, here's me, back to a nice "Gothic Bob" for the holidays.

I'm just going with it. I'm not really looking forward to seeing my hair stylist, who rocks out a sweet cut. So, ofcourse I'll be seeing her soon. I'll wait a few weeks. That's just enough time for me to need a cut and scheme up a good story.

I was going to wear black to the Christmas party. But really, that'll not be perty. Mamma needs a new top or something to pull this hair catastrophe off. So, in summary: in an effort to save money for my family, I've botched my hair up and will now take the money to be saved and blow it on a new outfit for the Christmas party, all to make me feel better.

It's just how I roll.