Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful

Okay, enough kid stuff for a while. On to the really important things. Like my hair.

I got it cut and colored last night and it probably wasn't the best idea to make a big change during PMS week. The color is good -- I usually get highlights all spring/summer, so by fall, I'm looking pretty washed out and am tired of keeping up with the roots, so I go back to brown. This time I went a couple of shades darker than my natural color and I like it a lot.

The cut, however? Well, it's cute, it's just not all that cute on me. I didn't think the long, blond hair was doing anything for me, but at least it was covering up more of my face. I look like a pumpkin wearing a short, brown wig (if pumpkins were not orange so much as pinky-Caucasian colored, and had not only wide faces but also double chins).

Oh, well. It'll grow back. It always does. I've done these dramatic hair changes at least once a year since high school. Funny how it never used to scare me like it does now. I think I almost went for the cut this time to prove to myself that I could still do it. Like riding a roller coaster as an adult when you really don't want to. I told my stylist I'm terrified of becoming one of those women on "What Not To Wear" who keeps the same hairstyle for 10 years. I don't want to get set in my ways. I think that ages a person faster than just about anything.

And speaking of aging a person, while I was getting my cut and enjoying a song playing in the salon (can't remember what it was right now), my stylist (who I adore, by the way; very nice girl) said, "Uh, I'm so tired of this awful 80s music." Them's fightin' words, so I said, "Watch it sister!" To which she said, "Oh, I'm a child of the 80s -- I was BORN in the 80s." Ugh. Just keep cuttin', Barbie.

Great Expectations

Operation Paci Removal went off perfectly. Friday evening Lauren willingly put all her mimis, one by one, into an envelope to "send to the babies who need them." Then she opened her "big girl present" and really liked it (yea! I picked the right thing!) and has been sleeping with it ever since. She went to sleep fine that night (and for her weekend naps) and she didn't wake up crying for the pacis. She never once whined about not having them, and when she asks about them, she answers her own question. The conversation goes like this:

Lauren: Mimis? Babies!
Me: That's right -- that was so nice of you to give your mimis to the babies who needed them.
Lauren: Mm hm!

She's pretty proud of herself and I think that's great. I guess she wasn't as addicted as I thought. Or else I was able to tap into her compassionate nature and she was happy to do something nice for babies. Don't know, but, whatever it was, I'm still shocked.

She also shocked me Sunday because we visited a new church and she willingly went to the nursery without crying. I guess overall I need to have higher expectations of her from now on!

Take On Me Redux

A shout out to Tela for this one!

You already know I'm an 80s music freak -- I'm not too proud to say I loved this song/video back in the day (give me a break -- I was 16) and this very literal re-do Cracks. Me. Up. Turn up your sound and enjoy.

Adventures in Parenthood, Vol. 437

I am terrified of this weekend. We're taking away the pacifiers. Lauren has used them only during naps and at night for several months now, but Dr. Betsy (fantastic pediatric dentist, except that she referred to Lauren's birth mother as "mommy" -- uh, no, that's me) said it's time for them to go. In fact, it was time for them to go a couple of months ago. It's not what they do to the teeth so much (they are baby teeth, after all) as the mouth. And I can already see what she's talking about -- the narrowing of Lauren's upper jaw. She's starting to look a little buck-toothed. So, I really don't want to make her give them up, but it's time for the "mimis" to go (her word, not mine; I think she just couldn't say paci and somehow it came out mimi -- who knows).

There are lots of ways to do this -- some people say to cut the end of the pacifier off and then the kid will give it up on her own because it won't feel the same. Some people say to pretend like they're lost, but like Bret said last night, I feel like I owe her honesty even at this stage. Or at least, our version of honesty. Because we've decided to go the give-your-pacis-to-the-babies-who-need-them route. We'll see how this goes, but I think how it'll work is we'll have a box or an envelope that we'll help Lauren put all the pacis in and tell her we're going to send them to the babies because she's a big girl now. And because she's a big girl, she can take her new toy to bed instead of her pacis (a $22 stuffed cat I bought in the hospital gift shop -- I'm not even sure if she'll like it but I didn't know what to get). She's not old enough to tell me a toy that she wants the paci fairy to bring her the next morning in exchange for forking over the pacis, so I really can't do that. And I refuse to put hot sauce on them, as someone suggested (honestly, she probably wouldn't mind all that much -- the kid loves salsa).

I am fully anticipating a sleepless weekend for everyone at my house. Although we managed to wean her off full-time paci use fairly easily, Lauren is a serious nighttime user, and having her give up her plastic and silicone fix is going to be rough. She not only keeps one in her mouth all night long, she also keeps one clenched in her little chubby fist like an NRA member clutching his sidearm.

I will let you know how it goes.

WTF???

I read this today and it so perfectly captured my thoughts about the VP debate (in a far more coherent and reasonable way than I could've written), that I wanted to share the link with you.

I watched the first hour of the debate and decided I'd had enough. I told Bret, "I'm going to bed now because every time Palin speaks, I'm losing IQ points."

I was floored Friday morning when I heard on the news and read in the paper how "good" she did -- uh, were we all watching the same debate? She was merely vomiting the material that had been crammed down her throat in preparation for the "debate!" Sheesh!

Okay, never mind. Just read Alice's post.