Midwestern Mommy

Dana, aka dear friend/stylist extraordinaire is probably still hiding in her basement, rocking back and forth in a corner as we speak. Turns out I have freak hair. Freak with a capital “F.”

As in some spots on my head absorb various dyes super fast, while some are incredibly slow. And some parts don’t really absorb much at all.  AWESOME, right? (snicker)

We had no idea as we embarked on this quest to turn me to “the dark side”. But we soon found out that the process wasn’t going to be as easy as we’d thought. So there wasn’t much margarita consumption, unfortunately. Apparently certain medications I take GREATLY hindered the process.

When I left Dana’s Thursday night, we thought the color looked pretty good. But the harsh light of Friday morning revealed all sorts of different colors. (And not in that attractive or quirky-funky-cute way.)  On Saturday, Dana turned into the ”little stylist that could.” I got to her house about 10:30 a.m. She spent the next six hours trying to get an even, natural color. When I was ready to say, “Ah, screw it, let’s just shave my head already,” she was the one to say, “Don’t worry, I can get this to work.”

This photo is the final result. So if you’re reading this right now while sipping some sort of beverage, please join me in a toast. To Dana — the determined friend/stylist who pulled a miracle out of her ass. Yeay Dana!

Do you have a hair color horror story? Please share!

This afternoon, I have a date with a feisty and funny friend named Dana. (No, not the funny and feisty blogger friend named Dana. Although the two do have lots in common which is probably why I love ‘em both!) It has been decided that we will do a little something called “margarita hair.”

Margarita hair:  Your beloved friend who used to “do hair” (or “hahhhrrr” as some say around these parts) for a living will highligh/color your “hahhhrrr” at her house while you both drink margaritas and your kids run amok and eat junk.

I’m looking foward to the experience, as is “the boy”. (He loves her kids. And her trampoline.)

Being that I’ve been a blondy-girl all my life, the decided color is far different– a warm brunette. Been wanting to do it for awhile now. (Yes!    All     of      you      super     hot      brunettes      have      truly      inspired     me. )

So by 6:30 tonight, I’ll either be laughing, crying, or both. Will I bemoan the color I chose? Is combining alcohol with hair color a bad idea? 

Stay tuned…

Have a little review of The Zula Patrol’s “Explore Space!” dvd on behalf of the Parent Bloggers Network at Midwestern Mommy today. Go ‘head. Have a looky-loo. There’s a virtual margarita in it for you!

She’s not one to walk into a room. She sashays into a room. She owns the room.  

People don’t just notice her — they are entranced by her. 

She may be petite but she’s got this larger than life personality. Within the first minute of meeting her you can’t help but realize that she is a force of nature. 

And when she dreams? Of course she dreams big. She was a track star in high school. She was a cheerleader for the Arizona Cardinals. She has been a lead singer for a number of popular bands in Arizona for more than 10 years. In fact, she’s performed throughout the United States and even abroad. THIS VIDEO is proof that she can not only pack a venue but whip the crowd into a state of fun and frenzy.

Honestly? I didn’t like her when I first met her during the (hubby’s family) Thanksgiving extravaganza of 1997.  I felt incredibly threatened by her. Here was this outgoing, georgous woman with amazing hair, a perfect figure, and limitless talent standing within inches of me. I was overwhelmed by her confidence. I’d never met anyone like her. She had this amazing energy and charisma! She represented all the things I so desperately WANTED to be but wasn’t. 

One day, I finally admitted to myself that I was insanely jealous of her. Being brutally honest with myself gave me clarity. I wasn’t just jealous of her appearance or accomplishments but of her ambition and attitude. Once I admitted that, I saw how much I could learn from her. I began to follow her career with great interest and excitement. Like the rest of Marc’s aunts, uncles, and cousins, I was cheering her on. I was very proud of her and envisioned the day I’d hear her voice on the radio.

And then she got cancer. She didn’t know it though. She brushed off symptoms because she didn’t have health insurance. Her symptoms became more prevalent over time. When she finally saw the doctor, in late 2005, she was told her cervical cancer was at a Stage 4. It had spread to her abdomen and lymph nodes.

She quit performing and underwent chemo, radiation and a few surgeries. She focused her energies on beating her cancer.  She was fiercely determined to grace the stage again.

In mid-December of 2007, doctors told her there was nothing more they could do.  They gave her a week to live. She was transferred to hospice. But she never gave up fighting. She, her parents, sister, fiance, extended family and friends never stopped hoping. They never stopped praying for a miracle. 

She survived the week. She was even strong enough to move back into the home she shared with her fiance.  She survived another week. She was able to attend Christmas festivities with her family. She survived the month. And then another. And then another. No matter how tired… No matter what disappointing news the doctors threw at her… She never stopped fighting. She never surrendered.

But today, on Easter Sunday, her body stopped working. She was 34.

My heart aches for Amanda, her parents, sister Ashley, fiance Gary, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. I didn’t know her well but I’m grateful for our brief encounter. She had no idea of the precious gift she gave me. She’s a shining example on how to pursue one’s passion –  and to live, as well as love, with everything you have.  To me, that is the essence of Amanda Star.  

As many people know cancer not only leaves a wake of heartbreak but also monumental medical expenses. Donations are greatly appreciated. Click on this site for more information.

My heart is so heavy these days. 

I have a difficult enough time sleeping. But when I travel its far worse. I’m really weird about noise, pillows, texture of blankets, mattresses and a few other things. Usually I don’t manage more than an hour or two a night when on the road. After awhile the stress of being in a new place and no sleep wear on me. My routine is disrupted, I don’t get any time to myself, and I get really edgy and bitchy. I usually end up with at least one migraine during a trip and several after the trip. (Ask poor Kristie. She was my BlogHer roommate.)

Before the trip I was completely stressed. Things only got worse while on the trip. I took on some projects I thought I could finish while on the trip. I vastly overestimated the time I MIGHT have to get these projects done. I barely slept and had a super nasty migraine over the course of the trip. Honestly, I was ready to go home 12 hours after I got there. And no offense to Texas. Ya’ll have great weather but I seem to get this way anywhere I go these days.

During our last day in Texas, my cell phone died in the middle of a conversation with Marc. Our flight got cancelled. I got angry. Because he was trying to make back up arrangements, he was late in picking us up (he dropped us off at a movie while he went to a meeting). And I when my son asked why daddy wasn’t there yet (we’d be waiting almost three hours.) I had no idea and I assumed the worst. I said something very mean and unfair about Marc which Seth repeated within minutes of seeing Marc.

To make matters worse, I felt betrayed by my son for saying this to Marc. I know! He’s five. How stupid. I had no right to badmouth my husband in front of my son, let alone feel hurt by what Seth repeated to his father. The next day I made my son feel guilty for relaying my comment to Marc.

Oh and did I mention that at one point while in the car with Seth and Marc (we ended up driving home. Yes! At least 11 hours in a car — all of those miles covered in about 20 hours.) Seth was talking and I yelled at him to “Shut up.”

God, I can be so ugly and mean. And I’m so horrified and ashamed. I hadn’t packed enough meds for an extra day so that meant no sleep and a raging migraine. I hurt so bad I seriously thought I should go to the hospital. Most of my energy was directed at not throwing up. Turns out I have a nasty sinus infection now which was probably a reason as to why I was feeling so crappy before as well as during the trip.

My husband is really angry and disgusted with me. I patched things up with Seth but my marriage seems as if it might not recover from this. There have been other fights through the years and I think we are both so tired of fighting. I don’t know how to fix this. I fear its a permanent rift between us. And that really scares and saddens me.

My migraines, sinus issues, and insomnia don’t help. Because there are times, after a good week or so of not sleeping and feeling almost constant pain, I start to feel like a raw, exposed nerve. I seriously start to wonder if I’m on the cusps if I’m losing my mind. I start feeling shakey and sick and weak. My husband doesn’t understand what it is like to live with constant pain. (But I can see how it would suck to live with me.) I start to get depressed. I’ve tried all sorts of medications to help. So far what I’m on now has been the best way to stave off migraines but even the meds are no match for all of the triggers that can set off a migraine. (It is better now. But I still get weeks where I’ll have 4-6 migraines in one week.)

But insomnia, sinus issues, and migraines aside, I feel so ashamed of my behavior to the two men I love dearly. When I apologized to Seth again today he said, “Don’t worry mom. You were just having a few bad days.” I feel like I don’t deserve his love. Even now, the whole thing just reduces me to tears. And I’m working on taking some steps that will hopefully prove to be constructive. I feel like I’ve sunk to an all time low. I didn’t control my frustration and got irrationally angry. And I took it out on two people I love the most.

So I’m sorry about not visiting. I’m sorry this is so heavy and depressing. I’m sorry I can be so toxic. Trolls, or anyone for that matter, if you want to tell me what a horrible bitch I am, you are more than welcomed to. Because I deserve it. I did act like a totally selfish, horrible, ugly, hateful person. And I’m so horrified. But I just wanted to let you guys know why I haven’t been around. I felt like I owed ya’ll an explanation.

Oh and I wrote a review for Building Bobland Bay for Parent Bloggers Network. If you are interested click HERE.

Hi Ya’ll!

How are ya? I haven’t visited too many blogs last week (if any actually). Life is happening at an even MORE insane pace than usual. The winds of change keep swirling around. Some of the change is good. Some of the change is sad. And some of the change can’t really be talked about just yet. (In fact, I’m not even in St. Louis right now. I’m in Texas.) I’ve had the stressed/insomnia induced headaches to prove it that yup, all of this change is feeling a mite overwhelming right now.

I hope to get a chance later this week to visit you guys. Gosh, I MISS visiting ya’ll and reading up on what everyone has been doing. (Withdrawals? Definitely.) Hope to catch up later on this week.

Oh and if you’ve got an itty-bitty Barney fan and no clue as to what to give him or her for Easter (or any upcoming occasion) think about this new dvd, Animal ABC’s I reviewed on behalf of Parent Bloggers Network, k? You can find it at www.MidwesternMommyReviews.blogspot.com .

Once upon a time, many years ago, there lived a sweet little pup by the name of Abbey. Abbey was a needy little creature of almost nine months. Being that her daddy traveled quite a bit, Abbey would follow him all over the house whenever he was home.

 Earlier on a fateful Saturday, unbeknown to Abbey, her daddy had eaten White Castle on the sly. She had no idea that White Castle + human alpha male = stink of epic proportion. (It was so bad, he was banned from eating the greasy yummies unless he was out of town.) A few hours after his feast, when the daddy felt the urge to “go”, he went to the bathroom.

Needy pup followed only to get the door closed in her face. She whined a bit. Her dad finally relented and let her in. She didn’t realize he’d done so while laughing evilly.

Dogs have an acute sense of smell, yes? 

After a few minutes, the odor got to be too much for the poor pup. At first she started to whine softly. Then she began to paw at the door in desperation. She wanted out. She could take no more! She whined louder. She scratched at the door with more fervor.

 The alpha male laughed manically.

 Just when the poor pup thought she could take no more, he flushed, washed, then let her out of her hell. She shot out the door as if her tail was on fire. She didn’t go near him the rest of the day.

Abbey learned a painful lesson. And to this day, she won’t go into a bathroom with her daddy.

I’m pretty sure that if Abbey could talk she’d tell you herself that being a homeless itty bitty puppy with worms (before we adopted her) was far easier than being stuck in that bathroom with her dad. In fact, even at the ripe ole age of nine, she’d probably still shudder from the memory.

Disclaimer: This is a gross story. And frankly, it is in terrible taste. But this is what comes with raising a boy — or at least one with the genetics of Seth’s kind – so proceed with caution.

Five days ago, I cleaned all three bathrooms, scrubbing sinks, toilets, tubs and floors. Two days later, while passing by “the boy’s” bathroom, I smelled a strong unpleasant odor. I moved the wastebasket next to the toilet and found a BIG puddle of pee.

Did you know that as urine begins to dry, the outsides of the puddle crystalize, yet the inside portion takes on a whole other property? (Most moms with boys know this.) It is nasty, nasty, nasty! Yeah, I didn’t know that until I had a little boy with really BAD aim.

There was also a puddle behind the tank of the toilet and a small amount in front of the bowl. I was PISSED. (Pun intended.)

The lack of trying within the “aiming department” is nothing new. I’ve kvetched, cajoled, and have gotten incredibly cranky before. He’s even had to clean up some of the mess a few times but that didn’t seem to bother him. Once I even told him I was going to start charging him a $1 to clean up the really nasty spills. (He gets an allowance now for certain chores.). Forking over a buck didn’t bother him in the least.

So this time?

“Peeing while standing up is a privilege. And you just lost it for a week,” I said. “From now on, if you’ve got to go, you SIT on the toilet – LIKE A GIRL!”  

A look of horror and dread filled his face. I watched the notion sink in. The idea tortured his manly little soul.

“NNNNNooooooooooooooo,” he screamed desperately. “I’ll do better next time! I promise!”

 ”Pfft. I’ve heard that before,” I retorted. “I’m tired of cleaning up your messes. Its disgusting. You’ve got to pay more attention to your aim. If you can’t do that, you’ve got to sit down.”

Its been three days. Each day he asks, several times, when his “privilege” will be restored. While he IS sitting down, he still ends up “spraying” some odd places. That’s not helping his cause. I think I might tack on some extra days to his “sentence.” I hope with all my heart that someday he fathers four boys who can’t aim worth a damn and HE’s the one with bathroom duty.

Just wait child. Karma! That’s all I’ve got say.

On another note, how do the rest of you moms nip this behavior in the bud?

The little next-door neighbor girl came a callin’ yesterday. She and her family are the owners of  Maddy, the dog we secretly nicknamed “Sneakashit” last year.

“Sneaks” is a power pooper who likes to roam the neighborhood and leave “presents” all over our yard and on our back patio. (Once she left a big ole steaming “gift” on our patio two-minutes before a bunch of rambunctious 5-year-olds invaded the house for Seth’s birthday.)

Sneaks also enjoys getting into our trash. If our garage door is left open for even a few minutes, she considers it her obligation to seek and destroy. She also loves to spread other people’s trash — aka the neighbor’s USED maxipads – all over our yard. Although Sneaks otherwise is a very sweet pup, she’s not our favorite dog in the ‘hood.)

Anyway… Here’s the conversation the little girl and I had.  

Neighbor Girl: I got a new puppy today! I want to show Seth.

Me: You did? Uh, Wow! (Confused. Almost too scared to ask.) What happened to your other dog?

Neighbor Girl: Oh we still have her.

Me: So now you have TWO dogs?

Neighbor Girl: (nodding excitedly) YEAH!

Me: Ohhh… (Silence. Glad NG is only 6 and can’t recognize an “Oh Crap!” expression when she sees it.) Sorry sweets but Seth isn’t here. He’s at a friend’s house. But I’ll tell him you got a puppy. He’ll be really excited for you.

Neighbor Girl: Ok. (Turns around. Stomps off. Starts screaming at the new dog.)

Me: (Watches her leave. Feels very sorry for this new dog.)

Anyone know where I can find a truck-sized pooper scooper. Wonder if Amazon’s got those?

*** We are thinking of going to Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston for spring break. If any of you live in that area and want to meet up, pretty, pretty PLEASE let me know!

One of the most exciting aspects of parenting is the wonder.  You eagerly await to see what traits your child will inherit. You wonder what passions and talents she or he will develop. You know your child has limitless potential. So you dream and hope. And when your child develops various interests? You do your best to cultivate those passions.

Amanda of Tumble Dry recently wrote a post called Ropin the Moon  that captures the essence of that parental excitement as well as the yearning to nurture our children’s interests.

“From the first time Sean put headphones on my pregnant belly, we had dreamt of having a piano. Now we knew that girls had the music gene. It seems such an essential thing, this nurturing of passion, particularly musical or artistic, and so the yearning began to burn. I had looked casually for months, scanning classifieds and online auctions, but never taking it too seriously.A piano for our girls. How could we possibly afford it? Where would we find it? How would we move it?”

Do they find a piano? You’ll have to read her story to find out. Amanda’s excitement and motherly pride radiate in the way she tenderly tells this story. That’s why I chose this entry for a February Perfect Post award.

This month is the two-year annivesary of the Perfect Posts Award. For the complete list of winners, go to sponsors www.suburbanturmoil.blogspot.com and www.petroville.com.  

P.S. Did you know In the Motherhood is beginning its second season? YES! For details go to Midwestern Mommy Reviews.