I'm sure you're wondering why I haven't written about Harrison's first day of daycare.
Confession time: he didn't start.
Diary, I couldn't do it. I had the best intentions; honestly, I did.
But on the Thursday prior to the big day, Dee Dee, H, and I went over to pick up the necessary paperwork and introduce him to the teachers. The sweet lady scooped him up and was walking him around the room when...
.... I had a panic attack.
I saw spots. Hyperventilated. Splotched. Sobbed.
And it was an ugly cry, Diary. UGLY. Lots of snot involved.
And if you know me, Diary - you know I don't get upset like that. Especially in public. With people watching.
Diary, I turned in my 2 weeks notice at work later that afternoon. It was both the hardest and easiest decision I've ever made.
Alas, Diary, don't give up on me. I won't be sitting on the couch eating bon-bons and watching soap operas, I promise.
Things work out for the better, Diary. Later that day a company offered me a position that will let me work from home, so I jumped on it like my former-pregnant-self-on-a-cupcake-with-chocolate-icing.
Did I mention that it's a local parenting magazine? Doesn't God have a delightful sense of humor?
... how important poop would be. And how many ways there are to describe it to your pediatrician.
... how victorious you feel if you not only get to shower and brush your teeth that day, but bonus points if your hair and face look presentable.
... how much you could feel victorious on above-mentioned bullet point, yet still manage to find some sort of spit-up, dried milk, or poop on you once you've left the house. Usually it's all three.
... how you could read 1,498 books on parenting before your precious babe gets here, but nothing can fully prepare you for how to raise your own unique little one.
... how perfectly silly you become. The other night H and I literally ballroom danced in the bedroom to Beauty and the Beast's "Tale as Old as Time" which was on abc family. I sang. I twirled. I looked like a fool. He loved it. And I'm sure it was pivotal in his cognitive development.
... how the "Pregnancy Police" wouldn't disappear, just transform into the "Baby Police." These plainsclothed officers of the Baby Jurisdiction want to point out every little thing you're doing or not doing, just as they did when you were preggo.
... how your body becomes a sort of community property. This first happened when preggers, when complete strangers want to rub your belly, inquire about your weight gain, or let you know "You're not that big." or "Your cankles aren't that gross." Upon Delivery Day, you really do lose all sense of modesty. That day, it got to a point where I'm pretty sure every single nurse checked out my progress with the too small pelvis. Now, with precious babe in tow, it hasn't stopped.
... how much you depend on the Mommy Club. Alas, this point was made ever-so-clear at my Reunion this weekend. We might not have seen each other in 10 years, but by George we were comfortable enough to talk about labor and delivery, b-feeding, weaning, and other Mommy Club issues. I loved it.
... how much my parents love me. It hit me like a lighting bolt one early morning as I was wiping Little Man's bottom whilst still smiling at his cuteness. And I realized my parents had done the same thing with me. I may or may not have been instantly shameful for those sassy teenage years. It's humbling, that's for sure.
... how much you could love someone. I now watch the News differently and am thinking about wrapping H in bubble wrap and home schooling him until he's 18.
.... and - how much others could love your child. I see it in H's grandparents' eyes when they hold him and make silly faces and voices at him. The way H's aunts and uncles clamor to get some snuggle time in. The way our friends' drop everything to pitch in like he was their own. And - most importantly - the way your heart literally glows when you see your husband napping with your child, talking baby talk in the recliner, or giving him a bath. Sometimes me thinks my heart just might burst...
Ignore the quality and facial expression of this picture. Mom snapped it on her phone last night in C-town, and I think my expression says it all. Please also ignore the fact that I had four hours of sleep the night before. And the fact that this is at the end of a long day. Ok? Thanks peeps.
Why the bob?
I'm a fan of a good clean, crisp bob as much as the next person. So, when I snagged a Groupon to the swanky Richard Joseph salon I figured it was high time for a sassy new do.
It also has nothing to do with the fact that my 10 Year High School Reunion is this weekend and I'm vain enough to want to look good for it.
Let's chat my salon experience, shall we?
I'm no salon snob, and I've been guilty of popping in to the nearby HeadStart lately for a quick trim.
I heard you gasp.
They usually do a fine, quick job with the ole mane, but last time upon return home I found a chunk missing on the left side.
Enter: Groupon for Richard Joseph.
Since I was clearly out of my element at the swanky place, I was a bit nervous so I left H-man at home with Daddy for some mommy time.
Then I was relieved when I got there and saw a sign on the door that said "Children in salon by appointment only." Whew. Dodged a bullet there.
Upon sign-in, I was directed to a Cafe to wait for Zaque, my stylist.
Out of my comfort zone, I didn't know what to do in said Cafe, where the featured chef was cooking up something fierce that smelled delicious. Do I pay? Is it complimentary? Who knew. I sure didn't, so I passed when offered a plate.
With Zaque's arrival, I was immediately put at ease. Here was an extremely nice young man who guided me over to the shampoo area.
Where I turned to putty.
And perhaps drooled a little as he massaged my neck and head.
Oh, Sweet Lord. I automatically added moola to his tip.
Next we ventured to his Chair of Creativity (my title, not his), where he lied through his teeth said I resembled Olivia Wilde.
His tip then doubled.
After an hour and a half of the Boy Genius, I waltzed out of there like a new woman.
Gracias Zaque, and I will see you again in 8 weeks!