Rora-Juck

What you say is a “rora-juck”? Exactly what I was asking myself for almost two weeks as my 2-year-old son excitedly and repeatedly said that very word to me. There was a definite break in the middle of the word, leading me to believe that it was in fact two words, but what words, I had no clue. You see, we think my son has a slight speech impediment. He is smart as a whip, but his words don't come out quite right. We have yet to have him tested as he is quite young (barely two) and Bug and I can understand him just fine. Worried a little? Of course I am, I'm a mother. Reading up on it and calling around? Of course, but I've raised three girls who were all quite verbal, bossy, and completely comprehensible at an early age so I've told myself repeatedly that boys develop slower than girls on a lot of these kinds of things. Besides, his intelligence far outweighs his lack of speech so for now I am content that a “bammer” is a hammer, a “ba” is a bottle, “Ky-E” is his beloved sister, “e-har” is a car, an “ocket ship” is a rocket ship, “b-bot” is robot, and I am his “Mommy”. He's been making progress, so it's all good!

Still, this thing that meant so much to him was still a mystery to me and we were both getting frustrated, heck even Bug was getting frustrated trying to figure it all out! I mean, whatever he was saying was some kind of important to him and the fact that we couldn't understand him was so disheartening to him. It was heart wrenching since he is such a happy little mister, and so easy to please, but we were disappointing him and it hurt! This, my first son, is the most kind-hearted, loving, sweet, gentle, little soul I have ever met and to see his feelings hurt, his heart deflated, was breaking my heart!

I actually found myself going to bed at night, laying there for what seemed like forever, repeating this word, “rora-juck”, over and over in my head trying to figure it out. But nothing! We'd wake in the morning and even before “ba” or “nack fruits” or “bop darts”, it was always the same thing......“rora-juck” with that huge gappy-toothed smile! Same every day, and I'd say “Bubby, what is a “rora-juck” baby? Show Mommy!”, and he'd run around looking, desperately searching, knowing what I meant but unable to produce evidence of this beast! He would move on about his day bringing up this elusive object from time to time throughout, but Bug and I got to the point where we would just change the subject because it was easier than seeing the disappointment on his little face when we didn't understand!

Then finally, two weeks after this all started, he came running excitedly from his room, holding his prize, his beloved “rora-juck”, repeating the words over and over and over again, smiling from ear to ear! It was his Mater that apparently we had misplaced and he'd found! Yes, his Mater Fire Truck! He was so proud, he kissed it and said “rora-juck Mommy”! Finally, this torment was over, of course a “rora-juck” was a fire truck, how could I be so stupid? Even Bug was ecstatic! We both said (without skipping a beat), “You found your fire truck Bubby!”. He just smiled in his usual fashion and sat proudly in the floor and played with his “rora-juck” for the rest of the day. Since then, he has been sent books by a very dear friend, and wouldn't you know it, there were “rora-jucks” in two of them and they are his favorites!

Looking back, I can't believe I missed it and put him through two whole weeks of torture! Next time something like this comes up, believe me, we will search his room, his toy box, his closet, high and low until we find the object in question! Then once found, we will continue to use the correct word until he “gets it”. He will get it...he's a genius, I know he is! I don't ever want to see that look of disappointment on his face again....EVER! In the meantime, I'm just glad we all found his “rora-juck” and he's happy again! Happy trumps pronunciation any day! Our world is at peace again!

That's Some Kind Of Tired...Bless His Little Heart!

I'm A Dork...I Can Prove It!

I may not LOOK like a dork, or exactly openly ACT like a dork, but really when it all comes down to ME, I AM a dork. I can prove it and once I do, I don't think you'll be able to argue my point. Hold on to your hats people because what I am about to share is serious dorkness at its best!

#10 The word DORK makes me laugh, so does the word TWIRP, but that's a different topic!

#9 The Disney Channel is my favorite! I actually am disappointed when my husband comes home from work and changes it. No, it's not just for the kids anymore. I'm addicted!

#8 I watch my palm tree grow, I chart its growth, and I even post pictures of it on FB and get excited when people comment on it's progress.

#7 I make hemp jewelry, I count the knots, I count the beads, and if someone interrupts my counting, I have a little piece of paper I note my knot count on. Well, this one is dorky and OCD...it's a toss-up!

#6 When we go places as a family, I like if we coordinate colors. Our outfits don't have to match (although that would be fabulous), but I always wait for everyone else to get dressed, then change what I'm wearing to compliment (that's a non-dorky word for match) what they are wearing! 

#5 If I post a status on FB and people don't comment, my feelings get hurt!

#4 I love American Idol. I don't just love it, I mean I get so into it that I campaign for my contestant. I take this very personally. If you knock my contestant, I don't like you anymore! I'm not kidding! If my contestant wins, I will rub it in your face...that's how I roll!

#3 Have you ever watched Wizards of Waverly Place? It's awesome! I SO wish I was in a wizard family. I would most definitely win the wizard contest. Wait, how do I sign up for that? Must.figure.this.out!

#2 My kids and I often dance in our living room. We aren't good, but we think we are and that's all that matters. And hey, I might be a dork, but I do keep the blinds closed when we do it! I'm a dork....NOT STUPID!

#1 I am a Hannah Montana freak! Heck, I'm a Cyrus family freak! I love them! I cried when I heard Billy Ray and Tish were getting a divorce! I have seen all of the Hannah Montana AND Hannah Montana Forever episodes (multiple times) and I will watch them all again. I would wear Hannah Montana and Billy Ray t-shirts if I could find them in my size (and if they coordinated with my families' outfits of course). I know all of the songs AND I'm proud of it!

Yes people, I am a dork! I'm a proud and happy dork! I believe I have always been a dork but I didn't allow myself to realize and ADMIT it until I hit my 40's. You know the 40's is the new DORKY apparently and I'm digging the dorky! Sparkle on people and revel in your dorkitude...it is your right. Be proud! I think there are more of me out there than care to admit it! Don't hide anymore, join me! We are DORK, hear us roar!

Triple Fail In The Kitchen Tonight...WTH?

I consider myself a good cook, not spectacular, not superior by any means, but definitely good.  My family puts me in the fabulous spectrum, but for all intense purposes, they don't count because they are way too biased.  But honestly, I don't think that I've ever cooked anything that people didn't like.  I've been told repeatedly that I need to open a restaurant.  I've been praised enough to know that I am at least "good" at this.  So tonight was a massive disillusioning disappointment to me!  Triple fail...OY!

It all started out with the best of intentions.  I was going to make Chicken Marsala.  Now I made this years ago, but couldn't quite remember how it went so I looked up a recipe by the ultimate, the fabulous, the BAM of all chefs, the guru, my hero, Emeril.  I had everything here except for this Marsala wine which of course was paramount to the recipe.  I had to go to Walmart anyway (go figure) so I figured I'd pick up a cheap bottle since I was only cooking with it anyway.  Well, that's where it all started.  I couldn't find anything that said Marsala and I had no clue if this was white or red (you see, I am not a wine drinker at all so this stuff is foreign to me).  I called my mom and she and my sister concluded that his was a red wine but that was as far as we got.  I asked a lady who had purchased a buggy-full of wine and she was quick to tell me that Marsala is a little more expensive and I could find it at the liquor store OR I could just buy a bottle of red wine here, she suggested sweet as she personally did not care for dry wine.  I took her advice.  $3 bottle of sweet red wine and I was good to go.  I made the rest of my purchases and headed home.  So far so good!

I started by preparing the homemade mozzarella sticks so I could put them in the freezer and get them ready for deep-frying later.  I had this one down so this was not a problem.  B was exercising and the kids were playing along so I had time.  I cut the chicken as instructed, dredged them in the necessary flour and essence mix and started frying them in the preheated oil and butter.  Things were going fabulously!  They looked great!  

After the required fry time, all browning (but not complete cooking) done, I took them out and set them aside, just as the recipe called for!  This was going fabulously, and B was just about to head out for his evening run so dinner would surely be complete and perfect when he got home!  Well that was the plan.  I went to the next step and started frying the mushrooms in the way-too-much butter (no salt variety of course).  The house smelled spectacular and I was sure this would be my masterpiece!  Then all hell broke loose!

I added the wine and began the sauce process.  After the wine boiled in half (what a hard thing to determine... although I am not a wine drinker, I contemplated drinking half of it so I wouldn't have to fret over this step, but I didn't).  I watched, I waited, and when I figured half-ish was gone, I added the needed chicken stock.  Hmmm...what's that smell?  Ewwaahh...well it is foul after all and I am a vegetarian so this must be normal!  But not only was the smell bad, something about my dish just didn't even look right at this point!  I let the boiling continue...despite the smell.  Then, in walks B.  "What is that smell...OMG did something die?".  Really, oh no, he smelled it too!  I hear "Christy, something is really wrong, it smells sour, were you going to feed me this shit?". Yup, something was definitely wrong!  So I look at my chicken broth and oops...it was supposed to be refrigerated so guess what, this foul WAS foul!  Ruined!  Damn!  Oh well, I can still salvage the chicken!  I pour my poisonous mixture down the disposal, realize I have used all of the mushrooms, but I can proceed with making the sauce again.  So here I go (and by the way, I am no longer taking pictures at this point because I am pissed but giggling and spraying Fabreeze to the sound of an exhaust fan)!   I add the wine (again), I add water this time (no stock left thank God) and hope for the best.  After boiling it down for a bit, I add the chicken and start cooking, fingers crossed!  I cook some noodles, I deep fry the cheese sticks, and I complete the chicken that was supposed to be my masterpiece!  


Well as far as this went, all turned out well. The chicken (so they tell me) was really good (without the mushrooms of course).  The noodles were a good side dish, and as usual, the cheese sticks were great, better than ever actually because I changed up a bit!  Ok, so it was an initial fail, with a save!  Whew!


But dumbass me decided to go back into the kitchen...what was I thinking?  B had asked me to pick up cookie dough when I went to the store.  To us, that generally means a box because it's quick and easy and yummy!  Well, true to form for our Walmart, they were out of the "boxed mix" so I bought those prefab tube things.  How hard could this be right?  So while B took his shower, I went in for the kill.  Apparently, I made the "balls" too big.  Instead of the required 9 minutes, mine took more like 20 and they were still gooey.  My family laughed as they ate the cookies.  Ok, fail two, but we're still laughing!


Then, as B was getting ready for bed, I was preparing his lunch for tomorrow.  This always starts with me cooking him a rather large sausage patty that he can heat in the morning, put in some bread, and eat on the go rather than stop for fast food.  I patty it up, put it in the pan, just like every other evening.  He heads to bed and I go to "tuck him in" as usual, knowing that the patty will be almost complete when I come out.  Well, I tucked him in, got the babies out of our room, emerged to check the patty only to find that I never even turned the damned stove on!  Seriously?  WTH?  Thank God my night in the kitchen is over.  


This might only be one night and it's never happened before, and hopefully it will never happen again, but seriously, this one TRIPLE FAIL night has me rethinking my culinary skills all together!  I'm sure I'll go at it again tomorrow night, but this time, I'm asking that you all say a little prayer!  If I have another night like tonight, my family may be eating McDonald's from now on!  Emeril would be ashamed!

The Inevitable’s In Life That Drive Me Insane

As a mom, there are certain things in life, the inevitable things, that we cannot prevent for some unknown reason, and yet they drive us insane. Following is a list of those amazingly inevitable things that drive ME insane!

#1 I talk on the phone very infrequently. But it does not matter if I get on the phone once a day, once a week, or once a month. The minute I put that thing to my ear and begin to open my mouth, no matter how well-behaved my children might have been until this instant, they begin to attack me with a litany of questions and demands. They are hungry, they are tired, they want a toy, they begin to fight, they want, they want, they want, they want. And then the moment I realize I've lost control, I immediately politely excuse myself from the conversation, hang up the phone, and suddenly all of their wants, fears, fights, and demands cease. Coincidence? I think not. Drives me insane!

#2 I have a shower curtain. I like shower curtains. Shower doors are hard to clean, they are a pain. If the shower curtain gets dirty, you go to Walmart and for a mere $2.00, you can replace it and it's all new and clean again. I like new and clean! But why is it that it lays so nice and pretty during my entire shower until the very moment I decide to shave my legs? I make sure to place my leg carefully against the wall, the opposite wall from the curtain, and yet, the moment I place my leg in shave position, the shower curtain has an obsessive compulsion to blow itself right onto my leg, my whole body as a matter of fact. The thing gets possessed. No matter how I place my leg or body, it takes me over, suffocating my very being. Coincidence? I think not. Drives me insane!

#3 My kids can be perfect angels all day long. They clean up their messes, they don't fight, they don't cry, they don't whine, they do nothing wrong. The minute my husband walks in the door, they act like raging lunatics making him believe that I have lost all control and this is the way my entire day goes. Thus he believes that I am not doing my job and he is the only one that can gain control over these wild hellions. Coincidence? I think not. Drives me insane!

#4 My kids don't cuss (much). Really they don't! But the minute we go out, the minute we are around church going folk, and God forbid, the minute we get around my in-laws, my 4-year-old always pulls out the F-bomb! Coincidence? I think not. Drives me insane!

#5 My children, without exception....If I tell then don't, they do. If I tell them do, they don't. Why is that really? Coincidence? I think not. Drives me insane!

I'm sure y'all have items you can add to this list. If you do, please feel free. I would welcome anything....anything....surely I can't be alone!

A Gift On Any Given Thursday....

 

I've always said I'd rather get a gift on a Thursday than I would on my birthday!  Sometimes being a SAHM is rough....everyone tends to take things for granted since you "just do them".  It has its pay offs for sure, but sometimes, every-once-in-awhile, the simple things in life...like roses on a Thursday....make your "job" worth all of the hassles it may bring!  Thank God I have the kind of husband that recognizes when I'm at my whit's end and always pulls out the "Thursday Gift" when I'm about to fold!  And on the occasions that he brings these so-needed gifts, he never makes a big deal.  He comes home from work and quietly sets them on the counter when I'm not looking, usually gives me a kiss, and goes on about his business.  Then I find them and get all teary, EVERY.TIME!  It just never gets old!  I love my life every day, but I live for the occasional Thursday!

O.M.G.....I Will NEVER Do This Again!

Well, it's been two weeks and I never thought I would last this long as a brunette, but I made a pact with myself that if I did the crime, I would do the time.  I've done my time.  It's been HORRIBLE.  Daily, Bubby walks up to me, rubs my head, and says "No, Mommy, No".  My husband comes home and says "You are so pretty it doesn't matter what you do, but I really prefer you as a blond".  Bug continues to tell me she likes my dark hair, and of course we all know she is plotting her quest for dominance over me, so of course she would encourage me to be substandard.  I have been called "Ma'am" over the past two weeks more times than I care to mention, and if I had my guess, some of the "Ma'am" callers were even older than me.  I don't wear my hair down, EVER, not even one day!  It's so heavy on my face, I have to get it off, like the plague.  No, this has NOT been a good thing!

So here I sit, at 11:00 pm, 40 minutes into my venture back to blondness.  I am in the orange phase now and it's not pretty (prettier than the DARK brown that has been plaguing me for two weeks, but not pretty).  I started with that atrocious dark brown, put the bleach on and quickly turned a lovely shade of (ick) red just as the box (and all of my online reading) said I would.  Then orange, and I don't mean a brassy kind of color, I mean PUMPKIN orange.  I've moved beyond the gourd phase now and am at somewhat of an orange/pinkish hue.  Although I do love pink, I'm hoping we move beyond this and turn a little more blond.  Apparently YELLOW is next.  I do NOT look good in yellow!  90 minutes max, that's what it says, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed! 

Why oh why did I do this to myself?  I've been wondering for two weeks, and now I'm wondering even more.  All of this to go back to my natural hue (without the gray).  Such a moron!  Nope, I will never do this again!  NEVER!  I'm glad I tried, I've always wanted to so I'm glad I got it out of the way.  Now I know.  I am a blond.  Not only by appearances am I a blond, everything about me is a blond (you know what, go ahead with the jokes, I don't even care, I'm weak at this point, I have no retort).  I haven't been myself lately and I am looking forward to being ME again!  

The funniest (funny in an odd sort of way) thing about all of this is that I am a reader by nature.  I read everything.  I read anything I can get my hands on.  And yet I realized today while I was reading the best way to undo my horrible act, that I had not read anything about my dumb ass decision two weeks ago.  You see, while sifting through all of the information about how to "change back", I found an article somewhere entitled "The Best Hair Color For You".  I should have bookmarked it so that I could pass on the exact information and ward off any harm you may be intending on doing to your own hair, but alas, I did not.  In a nutshell, the article said that nature knows best and although some people look good in any hair color, most do not.  If you were born blond (or brunette, or red headed) and remained that way throughout your childhood, chances are that is the best color for you and you should maintain that as an adult.  Really?  It's that simple huh?  Well, slap me silly and call me Blondie (or pinky as the case may be at the moment).  Note to self:  Do NOT color your hair (or make any other major decisions) on a whim...you will probably regret them later!


Now if you'll excuse me, my head is itching from all of these chemicals and I believe I am getting dizzy from the fumes.  Must.step.outside.for.air!  20 more minutes until rinse time.  Wish me luck!  Stay tuned....hopefully there will be a happy ending to my tale of woe and Goldilocks will be just that in the morning rather than Orangilocks or worse yet, Baldy-No-Lock! 

It's Cake Mom...I'm A Boy...I'm Supposed To Get Messy...Geesshh...Give A Guy A Break, Would Ya?

I Hate The Cold

I really hate the cold and everything about it. I don't mean I just hate cold like most people mean they hate it, I mean I hate it like most people would hate to get a kidney transplant. I hate socks, I hate long pants, I hate sweaters, I hate coats, I hate hats, I hate scarves, I hate gloves, I hate snow, I hate ice, I hate shivering...well you get the idea. Technically, I hate any temperature under 80 degrees (which really isn't warm enough for me either but I can deal with that). There really aren't many things I truly hate, but cold is at the top of the list.

I've actually spent most of my adult life avoiding the cold and all its nastiness. I was born in California but my parents left there before my first birthday and moved us to the eastern United States where we spent most of my childhood moving frequently around within the vast majority of the snowy tundra. We ended up in Upstate New York when I was in 8^th grade and remained there throughout my high school career, and I stayed there and began college even after my family moved away. I loved it there (except for the snow and cold). In my heart it is still my home (except for the snow and cold). The majority of my nearest and dearest friends still live there (in the snow and cold). I often long to move back there (but that damn snow and cold).

Anyway, when I was 19, my parents moved to Georgia and the heat and sunshine began beckoning my name and I folded, transferred schools, and left the frozen tundra for my new life. The year I moved to Georgia there was a drought with heat indexes apparently in the non-human levels and everyone was miserable, that is except for ME. I had hit the mother-load. I was warm, even hot, all of the time, I had a lovely tan, and although I missed my friends, I no longer had to deal with the snow and cold. I was happy and warm! I lived in Georgia for almost 23 years, got married there, had 2 kids, divorced, and remarried where I gained 2 more kids, then we had 2 more kids of our own. I still longed for my home in New York, but this was my home now. Suddenly though I noticed that each year the winters got longer and colder and this did not please me because as you know, I hate the cold. And lo and behold, it began snowing during these winters. No I was not pleased at all! I was wearing socks again, long pants, sweaters, coats, boots, hats, scarves, gloves....this was NOT what I signed up for! So a couple of years ago when my husband got the opportunity to move us to South Texas, I eagerly uprooted and left my 2^nd home leaving behind parts of my heart again in the pursuit of sunshine and warmth. Yes, I hate cold and snow so much I am willing to make sacrifices and leave family and friends. I began to understand that this was an obsession, almost as bad as a drug addiction, but in case I haven't mentioned it, I hate the snow and cold!

So here I am in Galveston, TX where for most of the year it is balmy, sunny, and beautifully sweat-worthy. For the most part shorts, tank tops, and flip-flops are my daily attire. But thanks to Global Warming (freezing actually), it has been cold here, it is 38 degrees today. I have socks on, I wear my heavy coat to step outside, even for a minute. I have the heat on inside and I am still cold. There is just something totally wrong with this picture. In my lifetime, I've only considered 2 other places home and I've left them both in pursuit of warmth, to escape all of the things that I hate so much about the cold. So why am I still cold? The way I see it, I have 2 options. The first is I can stay put, suck it up, wear my coat, wear my socks (I really hate socks), wear my boots, stay inside as much as possible, and deal with it for the short 2 months or less of cold. I mean it could be worse, it could be snowing right? Or my second option, which I have been secretly plotting since the temperatures hit 70 degrees of course, would be to move south-er! One snow flake and I'm out of here!

Damn, I hate the cold! Oh and socks, I really hate socks too, it's all just so unnatural!

I Do Not Like Brown Hair On Me...I Do Not Like It Friends You See

I do not like brown hair on me, I do not like it friends, you see. I've tried it once, I gave it a shot, but I'm a blond at heart, a brunette, I am not. Give it two weeks, that's what I said, but why oh why did I do this to my head?

I do not like it in the car, I would not like it at a bar. I will not like it at the pool, no as a brunette, I'm just not cool. I will not like it at the beach, no my friends, my love it bleach!

No I do not like this brown hair a bit, but I'm stuck with it now, this atrocious shit! Don't get me wrong, I like brown hair a lot, it's beautiful on you, on me it is NOT!

I do not like it in my tub, I do not like it, neither does Bub. I do not like it on my clothes, why I did this, no one knows. No I do not like brown hair on me, I do not like it friends, you see.

I do not like it, not at all, I do not like it, I'm about to ball. Two weeks, two weeks, that's not so long, I can do this, I'll be strong. But I won't do this again, I don't give a damn, I will not do it, a blond I am!

So in two weeks, I'll buy blond in a box, oh I do so miss my golden locks. No more dark, no more brown for me, a blond I am, so a blond I'll be!

I do not like brown hair on me, I just do not like it friends, you see!

Note: Obviously I took this poetic concept from Dr. Seuss who is indeed one of my heroes. No plagiarism is intended. I give full credit where credit is due! Dr. Seuss is the bomb and I'm certain the good “doctor” would understand that people would like to emulate him!

My Year In Pictures - 2010

Top 10 Signs You Were A Teen In The 80's

#10. You not only wore a side ponytail, you've been secretly thinking of how you can bring this back into style, it was after all your best look to date!

#9. You wore Nike canvas high top sneakers with the blue swoosh with EVERYTHING!

#8. After watching Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (at the theater) you kept saying, “I know you are, but what am I?”. (You probably still say it). 

 

#7. You remember when mullets (bi-levels) were cool...and you had one!

#6. You owned a banana clip (maybe still do?)!

#5. You can do the Carlton (and still laugh every time you do it).

#4. Two words: Hacky Sack!

#3. You were able to figure out the Rubik's Cube without pulling off and rearranging the stickers.

#2. You could ride around in your Suzuki Samurai with the top down, saying “beep beep” and your big hair wouldn't move a lick (thank you White Rain).

#1. When playing Wii with your family, you always opt for the Michael Jackson Experience because you are the only one that ever memorized all of the moves to Thriller. Yes, you grew up in the 80's and you Rock!

If you've read this and smiled even once, you are guilty! Although the clothes were a little gaudy, the music was a little too hip-hoppy, the make up was a bit much, and the hair was BIG, the times were simpler and we could have done worse than to grow up in such a decade. Be proud, but for God's sake, cut your hair silly and ditch the blue eye shadow! Still “I wouldn't change those days for nothing....ohhhh it was 1980-sumthin”!

Happy New Year....I Have Brown Hair!

For some of you (that don't know me well), the fact that I now have brown hair is no big deal. But it IS a big deal. You see Christy without blonde hair is like Barbie without boobs (or well...blonde hair), Sonny without Cher, peanut butter without jelly (oh the horror), the ocean without water. Yes, this is a big deal! But it was a new year, a new decade, so I decided it was time for a new me. I've been sporting my I'll-be-twenty-forever summer blonde for my entire life (with the brief exception of the red week but we won't go there). But let's face it, I won't be 20 forever, matter of fact, I haven't been 20 in forever, so it was time for a change. Yesterday, I decided I would take the plunge, it is only hair after all and I can always undo it right? Right!

So, being on the tight budget that I am, I headed to Walmart. I bought the expensive stuff, a lovely shade of medium brown in a cool tone to avoid the reds I spoke of earlier. I called my oldest sister as I always do before doing something silly to my hair because she does know best when it comes to these things. She gave me all of the tips to a successful color, I listened, but did not follow them all. I am not that patient, she knew that so of course I'm sure she was already thinking up her back-up plan to “fix” me just in case. I conditioned first, dried my hair, colored, waited the appropriate 25 minutes, lathered, rinsed, repeated. I conditioned again and I emerged from the shower as what I thought would be a beautiful brunette. Well, THAT didn't work. I dried my hair only to find a not-so-lovely shade of mousey blonde highlighted with what appeared to be blue, green & silvery highlights. No this was not good! My husband only snickered a little as I walked out and suggested I might want to go back blonde. Bug of course told me she loved the new hue (of course she did, it would make others laugh AT ME). Oh well, it was over for the night and I would do nothing about it until the morning. As a matter of fact, I had told myself (and my sister) that since I don't work outside of the home, I would wait a full two weeks to make any changes if anything went wrong as that was what was best for me (and my hair). So I went to bed a mousey blonde, blue, green, silvery mess. OK, day 1 of 2011 not so successful, but I had my health! It's all good!

Woke up, everyone fed, kitchen cleaned up, toys picked up, time to shower. I wash my lovely locks once, twice, three times. Again, condition because that is key! I step out of the shower convinced that this monstrosity that once was my blonde hair was now shed of all hues that belong in the rainbow. I lotion, brush my teeth, then my hair. I blow dry and well, let's just say that now I had a somewhat ashier tone of the bluish, greenish, greyish hues. Nope, the washing did NOT fix the problem, but I will wait another 2 weeks, that's what I said. So I throw the ugly crap up into a ponytail, put on my makeup and spend time with the family. My husband keeps reminding me that he really wants some tennis shoes so he can go running. He even takes the time to look online what the local Academy has and considering we have a $25 gift card and the shoes are only $30, he assures me that we can afford them and that it would be great if I picked them up for him “if I was going out anyway”. Going out anyway, well whatever would I be going out for? Must come up with some reason to go out. Oh I know....HAIR COLOR! Point in fact, it is his fault that I couldn't wait the two full weeks I had promised myself (and my sister), if I had to go out, there must be a reason other than tennis shoes, seriously tennis shoes are no reason! So now, Bug in tow, I was on a mission! First stop, Academy, Reebok, size 10.5...done! That was easy, now off to Walgreens we go!

Enter Walgreens, hair color aisle #3. Just me and Bug. In and out. Cat said to pick a golden tone that would cancel out the other “crap” going on. I don't think that's literally what she said, but that was the gist. So I begin my search, I am focused, I am ready, I hear Bug talking....I always hear Bug talking, she never stops talking....how can I concentrate on this ever-important decision? Well, I shouldn't have brought her, this was too important, but I did so now I must deal. Shhhh, little Bug, shhhhh! I finally narrowed my choice down to 6 boxes, then 5...4....3....2....3....4.....2....3.....2.....1! YES....this was the fix, I will go with this deep brown natural shade, this will do it and it will fade. After all, last night I had died my hair medium brown and after rinsing, it had turned dark blonde (much lighter than the shade indicated) with of course those other lovely colors that I am through talking about! So this DEEP brown will do the trick. It will cancel the rainbow and actually give me brown. Purchase, mount horse (OK so we got in the car), and head home to complete our mission!

We get home and of course, I text Cat again asking for any last advice before I take the dive. Conversation involving the Wizard of Oz, I'm frightened Auntie Em, the Lollipop Guild, then the dreaded “Leave it in for 45 minute” text came across my screen. What? 45 minutes? The box says 25. It's in my hair and my hair already looks black after 10 minutes...YES BLACK! So I send back the obvious message “seriously?” and the assuring reply comes back “yes, 45 minutes, it may even turn black on your head, but it will fade A LOT”. So I'm good. And I continue to time and swear I won't look in the mirror until after I rinse (of course, I looked at least 50 times and it kept getting blacker). Panic stricken, I wait the full 45 minutes, turn on the shower, hop in at precisely the right time and begin to rinse. Black stuff is spewing everywhere in my shower, it was like a blood-bath in there and I wondered why I had ever began this adventure. Ah yes, that's right, I'm a mom, not 20, time to start looking the part! So I rinse, I lather, I condition, then I emerge ready to face the new not-so-blonde, not-so-blue (hopefully) me! After lotioning (yes I do that quite often), I take the towel off my head. It's dark, I mean really dark, dare I say BLACK? I begin to blow dry because of course hair always looks darker when wet. I must say, this time, it turned out a beautiful shade of brown, VERY dark brown. It has shimmering highlights of gold. It is lovely! But it's on my head, it's taken over my blonde locks. I am somewhat in shock. I emerge to find my family wondering what their take would be (it's always interesting around here). B likes it, he seems to like it a lot (he might be lying, he does love me after all). Bug tells me she loves my new dark hair (yea, not buying that, she told me that last time and it was blueish green). Bubby stops, stares, looks a little stunned, then smiles and starts playing again, that is a good sign! So we continue on with our evening, eat dinner, clean up and nothing else is said. I wonder what they are all secretly thinking but I don't ask. I won't ask. I will wear this color for the next two weeks at least, maybe it will fade, maybe it will grow on me, maybe I'll be blonde again in a couple of weeks. Who knows? But I will give it the full two weeks, new year, new decade, new me, even if only temporarily!

So what's my point to all of this rambling? Hell I don't know other than to say that we all need to take chances, make changes, and forge forward. Today it was my hair, tomorrow who knows? Happy new year to all of you! Oh and did I mention? I have brown hair? Really, really, really brown hair!