After the Cut

Okay, here are my Post-Haircut pictures. I loved my stylist, and will definitely be going back to her. Went to The Hairem. It was an awesome experience! I told her that I would never be able to make the haircut look as good as it did when she finished, but it's actually not all that hard, it just takes a while. And some mousse, styling wax and hairspray... and a hair straightener. And a half-round brush. I don't have the brush, and I need to get a straightener that doesn't pull my hair out when I use it (mine was very cheaply made). I love the haircut, though, and will most likely keep it up even after the blonde fades.

Y-luh-doo

Sounds strange, I know. But this is Sammy's new phrase for the week.

Have you guessed what it is yet?

Yes, you're right.

He's saying "I love you."

My heart melts.

Originality

"Originality is not doing something no one else has ever done, but doing what has been done countless times with new life, new breath." -- Marie Chapian


I think this means that every time I fold a load of clothes or load the dishwasher for the third time today I can do it with originality. But how does one achieve originality?


Is it found by buying new things that make me happy to look at them? My new little white and green sauce cups from Crate and Barrel do that.


Is it found by doing my chores a different way each time I do them, or on a different day of the week every week? I have never kept a cleaning schedule, with the excuse that I could be more flexible if I wasn't tied down to doing a certain thing on a certain day.


Or is it found by just being happy and content in the midst of my chores, and letting the routine become a soothing part of my life? I believe that the men in my home would appreciate some order and routine.


I tend to lean toward the last option as the "right answer", if there is such a thing. It is the right answer for me, anyway. People are different, and I know that not everyone has my tendency to wait until something absolutely has to be done before doing it. Some people thrive on schedules, lists, routines, etc.


I have always believed that I would not be able to stick with a routine. And perhaps that is why I never have. Believing something about yourself changes many of the choices you make in life, and that can impact your life positively or negatively, depending on the belief.


Say I believe I am overweight. My thought pattern tends to be "Oh, I can't shop at that store, I'll never find anything that fits." But if I *believe* that I am losing weight, there is a smorgasboard of new opportunities that await me (and not just in the clothing department). I will say "Yes, it is a bit tight now, but I am losing weight, so it will fit perfectly in not too long!" or "My stomach is shrinking, so I'll pass up the triple bypass burger today because I couldn't possibly eat it all." Or maybe even "I need to go to the gym today because I really wouldn't want all of the work I've put in so far to go to waste!"

Wow, that was pretty motivating, huh?

Blonde Bombshell

I think I'm going to like being a blonde. :) And it cost a whole lot less than going to the salon! I spent a little over $10 for Loreal Frost and Design's "Dramatic" (that it is!), "High-Precision" (we will only do every *other* hole in the cap next time), "Pull-Through Cap" (and poke, and pull, and poke, and pull, and poke, and pull), "Highlights" (would have been if we'd have only done every other hole).

Mike worked so long and hard last night poking all of those little holes in the plastic cap, and pulling the little bits of hair through. Then I mixed up the formula and he was nice enough to spread it onto my hair and make sure it was all evenly placed. He spent at least an hour pulling all of the hair through. Gotta love a man who'll do that!! You have no idea how much work it is to highlight hair with a pull-through cap until you have done it at home (or are a hair stylist, God bless 'em). Mike asked me how much it costs to have it done at a salon. I told him I would have spent $50, and he told me I could tip him later. ;)

I love my new hair color. I can't wait to do fun things with it as it grows!

Her arm is... where???

Okay, I just realized that it appears as though Bonnie has an extra arm in the picture I posted with her in it. Sorry, Bonnie! Hopefully you don't run for office someday. That picture might come back to haunt you. But isn't she cute?

Bonnie's Lemon "Lick-The-Floor-Clean" Cake

Bonnie makes a fantastic homemade lemon cake that has four scrumptious layers of lemon curd sandwiched between moist lemon cakey goodness, topped off with a mountain of fresh whipped cream and sweet-tart berries. It is the picture of perfection, and I'll post some pictures of the actual cake when she sends some to me (hint, hint!!). She made one for Valentine's Day, and our family got to come over for the first-ever Lemon Licking Cake Tasting! No, it's not actually called "Licking" cake, I just made that up.

She came to our house a few weekends ago and baked two more of these delectible perfectionisms (hey, it's a word now!) for a baby shower while we listened to the audiobook The Secret, which I will write more about later. When the cake was done, she whipped the cream. As she transferred a spoon coated in whipped cream across the kitchen floor, two things happened. First, a small "plop!" Next, two small boys plastered themselves on the floor to lick up the results of the plop. The floor was clean, by the way. Or I could say... the floor WAS clean.

Sammy was especially excited about the prospect of actually licking the floor!! And when he graduated to licking the whipped cream spoon itself, he was in High Heaven. Until Bonnie (oooops) accidentally dropped (after a couple of firm shakes of her wrist) another plop on the floor.

She had to do this, as my camera had needed new batteries and the first plop-licking was un-photographable. But my new camera batteries were raring to go, so her ploppings were photographed with delight. Oh, that sounds so wrong...

We were all bent over laughing by the time the whipped cream was all licked up.

And two little boys can't wait to taste Bonnie's Ploppings again.

Eight Thousand Words

For Caleb

So we're on our way home from the American Indoor Sports Arena last night, where we went to walk around and watch the people and kids (not that kids aren't people) play soccer.

Mike says "Griffin, what does the cow say?" and Griffin says "Eat More Chikin!" just like the good boy that we taught him to be. Actually this time we had wanted him to say "moo", because Sammy tries to say it now (it comes out "mmMMm") whenever he hears someone else saying it, and we wanted to hear Sammy try to say it so we could laugh at him.

"No, what does the REAL cow say?" we asked Griffin.

"Moo" he said after a moment's hesitation. We really should stop confusing him, but it's just so darned funny!

Than Mike said, "Griffin, do you know what Caleb says?"

Griffin went silent.

"Caleb says "Get a Garmin, or get lost!" can you say that? "Get a Garmin, or get lost!""

Griffin ponders things for a little bit, while Mike and I repeat this phrase over and over so that he can become very familiar with it before saying it back to us.

I stop talking and shush Mike, because I think he's finally ready to say it.

The golden moment has arrived!

"Get a Garmin, and GET LOST!"

We laughed all the way home.

The Sammy Game

Sammy is now backing down the stairs by himself, so I don't have to play The Sammy Game anymore. It went kind of like this...

Sammy climbs up all of the stairs. Sammy selects large throwing object (usually something the he knows Griffin will object to, such as Thomas the Train). Sammy then proceeds to throw said object as hard as he can from about 12 feet above the hardwood floor. This makes a loud crashing sound. Sammy giggles. Sammy selects a second large throwing object. Mommy stops what she is doing and runs to the staircase. Mommy looks up at Sammy and says "Sammy, what are you doing?" Sammy throws said object as hard as he can, narrowly missing (and sometimes hitting) Mommy's head. Mommy runs up the staircase to retrieve the little mischief-maker. Mommy carries Sammy down the stairs and sets up the child safety gate. Mommy walks away. Sammy knocks over child safety gate and climbs over it. Sammy climbs up all of the stairs. Sammy selects large throwing object...

This was known to go on for hours, interrupted only by breakfast, naptime, lunch, the arrival of Daddy, and dinner.

Sammy protested greatly every time I showed him how to back down the staircase by himself. He didn't want Mommy to have a reason to end The Sammy Game. But now it is over, and Sammy has decided to cut his ties to Mommy and embrace his freedom. He is now Master Of The Staircase.