Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Haircut Hell
Once again, it was time to have Jack's hair cut. I've tried Great Clips, Angel Hair in Crestline and the local Barber Shop -- all of which left him looking like who-dunnit-and-why. My sister actually implied that I had cut it myself (I really think I could have done better than the Great Clips girl to be quite honest). I've finally settled on Christy, the owner of Salon Belezza on Lorna. Driving all the way out to the galleria for a quick trim is not my idea of fun, but at least his hair is as beautiful as the rest of him when she's done.
We set off today for our 9:45 appointment with not a moment to spare. Of course, the weather was misty, traffic on 459 was heavy, and Jack pointed out "big trucks, mommy" for most of the way. Now that I no longer drive for a living, I really wonder how I ever did it at all. Because in case you haven't noticed, other drivers are crazy. Even more so when it rains. We finally arrived at our destination and sprinted up the walk. We didn't have to wait long for our turn, and Jack passed the time by saying hello to everyone in the shop. If I knew their names, I would tell him and he'd give them a personalized greeting. Otherwise, "Hello, Man!" and "Hello, Woman!" sufficed.
At last, our number came up and we headed for the chair. Jack calmly approached the chair and allowed himself to be lifted into it. Just as his fanny hit the booster seat, he asked, "Diaper change, Mommy?" Take a wild guess as to the number. "Did you poop, honey?" I queried, hoping against hope for a miracle. "Yes!" Christy responded for him with a grimace. AARRGGH!!! Back to the car in the rain, I picked up his backpack and began a short but fervent prayer. I peeked inside. Glory, Hallelujah!! There was one diaper remaining. I raced back up the sidewalk (By the way, screw that walking 30 minutes a day stuff. If I could slow down to a walk, I might actually get a nap!), and scooped up a very smelly Jack. The only area for changing a diaper was the massage table in the back room. I did a pretty thorough job considering the circumstances, got Jack redressed, picked up all our gear and headed back to the front for the haircut.
At that point it dawned on me that I had taken on another passenger, a heavy, foul-smelling bundle that I had no clue what to do with. All my little scented diaper disposal bags were in the trips diaper bag (thanks for those, Sam). And my mind was running a little too slowly to come up with an acceptable plan B. The brain fog was due primarily to Jack's sudden change of heart about the whole haircut thing. "No! I don't wike it!" he shouted and headed for the door. Still holding my purse, his backpack, and his coat in my right hand -- with the left occupied by the aforementioned biohazard -- I scooped him up and placed him forcibly in the chair. This action brought the diaper dangerously close to both of our faces. I don't know about Jack, but I think I may have blacked out for a moment. When I was once again aware of my surroundings, Jack was nearing full-blown tantrum. I quickly ditched the purse, coat and backpack in the empty chair next to Christy's and placed the diaper on the roll-away dye table nearby.
Some mothers say bribing your children with candy is a major no-no. I say they must not be doing it right, because it works GREAT! Provided of course you have the goods. "If you get your hair cut, you can have M&M's, Jack!!!" The fountain was turned off instantly.
"O.k. -- M&M's. M&M's, mommy!"
I headed for my purse only to remember very clearly NOT putting any M&M's in it. Think fast, Mommy!
"Good boy! You get your hair cut, and you can have M&M's when we get home!" Despite my delivering this line with almost manic glee, you can probably imagine that it received a somewhat cool reception. By cool, I mean Jack began screaming M&M's repeatedly and with increasing volume. At that very moment, my eyes lit on a small basket underneath Christy's workstation. In it were various sugary goodies, including suckers, Starburst and Hershey's kisses. I don't know if she's diabetic, and this was actually her private stash. I really hope not, because I pounced on it like a drowning man would a life preserver.
"Look, Jack!", I said while unwrapping a kiss, "This is a really big M&M. If you're a good boy, you can have it. See, it's chocolate!"
He looked at me askance. "Chocolate?" he asked.
"Mmmm...hmmm -- chocolate," I replied.
He knew something wasn't ringing true, so he followed with "Big M&M?"
"Uh-huh. A BIIIIIIG M&M!" my desperation was definitely starting to show. "Now eat up and let's get your hair cut."
After one more credulous glance at me, Jack gave the kiss a final inspection and popped it in his mouth. "Mmmmm...good. Chocolate, " he sputtered around the kiss. "Big M&M."
Thank heaven -- we were in business at last, but we weren't out of the woods. She finished his bangs and crown, and a second kiss was needed to begin work in back. Even with the kisses in play, I was still extremely busy keeping him looking forward or down as Christy requested.
All was going as well as could be expected, considering that I was practically standing on my head shouting, "Look at me, Jack! Here's mommy by your shoes!! Look down! Look down! Look...o.k. no kicking, young man!!" With a third and final kiss, the job was done. I managed to ignore how much hair had been consumed with the 2nd and 3rd candies, and home was just over the horizon. I picked up purse, backpack, coat and...blast it all!!! There was still that dirty diaper to be dealt with. Jack was marching toward a bookcase full of highly breakable items for sale. Sometimes, you just know the "you break it, you buy it policy" is in effect without the words actually being said. I stood frozen, with the world in slow motion, glancing from Jack to the dirty diaper then back to Jack again -- this time much closer to the breakables. Christy gave a pat on the back, took the diaper and said pityingly , "I'll take care of this honey." The world snapped back to real time, I paid and we were on our way home...in the rain...with lots of big trucks all around us and Jack repeating "M&M's mommy?" 100 times and me answering, "When we get home baby."
O.k. I answered that way 99 times. The 100th time I shouted, "Jack! Are we home yet? No we are not! Therefore I cannot give you M&M's right now, so STOP ASKING!!!!" I heard him take a deep breath, and turned the radio up louder pretending with all my might that I couldn't hear the word M&M's breaking through the music. It worked for a moment, until XM Kids actually began leaking into my consciousness. I realized we were listening to the Power Ranger's theme song. It consisted of the phrase "Go! Go, Power Rangers!" chanted in a monotone at varying intervals accompanied by various techno thumps and crashes. With the stress of the morning still a fresh, raw wound, each cymbal cut deeper and deeper into my brain. I would have changed it, but for the moment Jack seemed mesmerized by the cacophony pouring from the speakers. I choked on a slightly deranged giggle, and tried to wait it out. When the DJ announced that Michael Buble was up next, I almost wept with joy. Then the familiar phrase, "Spider Man. Spider Man. Does whatever a spider can" wafted from the radio. THIS was Michael Buble? "Spins a web any size. Catches thieves just like flies."
At this point, I decided that none of this was really happening. I must be having an incredibly realistic nightmare, and just needed to pinch myself to wake up. As of 3 PM, I'm still pinching. And if this is a dream, shouldn't I be thinner?
We set off today for our 9:45 appointment with not a moment to spare. Of course, the weather was misty, traffic on 459 was heavy, and Jack pointed out "big trucks, mommy" for most of the way. Now that I no longer drive for a living, I really wonder how I ever did it at all. Because in case you haven't noticed, other drivers are crazy. Even more so when it rains. We finally arrived at our destination and sprinted up the walk. We didn't have to wait long for our turn, and Jack passed the time by saying hello to everyone in the shop. If I knew their names, I would tell him and he'd give them a personalized greeting. Otherwise, "Hello, Man!" and "Hello, Woman!" sufficed.
At last, our number came up and we headed for the chair. Jack calmly approached the chair and allowed himself to be lifted into it. Just as his fanny hit the booster seat, he asked, "Diaper change, Mommy?" Take a wild guess as to the number. "Did you poop, honey?" I queried, hoping against hope for a miracle. "Yes!" Christy responded for him with a grimace. AARRGGH!!! Back to the car in the rain, I picked up his backpack and began a short but fervent prayer. I peeked inside. Glory, Hallelujah!! There was one diaper remaining. I raced back up the sidewalk (By the way, screw that walking 30 minutes a day stuff. If I could slow down to a walk, I might actually get a nap!), and scooped up a very smelly Jack. The only area for changing a diaper was the massage table in the back room. I did a pretty thorough job considering the circumstances, got Jack redressed, picked up all our gear and headed back to the front for the haircut.
At that point it dawned on me that I had taken on another passenger, a heavy, foul-smelling bundle that I had no clue what to do with. All my little scented diaper disposal bags were in the trips diaper bag (thanks for those, Sam). And my mind was running a little too slowly to come up with an acceptable plan B. The brain fog was due primarily to Jack's sudden change of heart about the whole haircut thing. "No! I don't wike it!" he shouted and headed for the door. Still holding my purse, his backpack, and his coat in my right hand -- with the left occupied by the aforementioned biohazard -- I scooped him up and placed him forcibly in the chair. This action brought the diaper dangerously close to both of our faces. I don't know about Jack, but I think I may have blacked out for a moment. When I was once again aware of my surroundings, Jack was nearing full-blown tantrum. I quickly ditched the purse, coat and backpack in the empty chair next to Christy's and placed the diaper on the roll-away dye table nearby.
Some mothers say bribing your children with candy is a major no-no. I say they must not be doing it right, because it works GREAT! Provided of course you have the goods. "If you get your hair cut, you can have M&M's, Jack!!!" The fountain was turned off instantly.
"O.k. -- M&M's. M&M's, mommy!"
I headed for my purse only to remember very clearly NOT putting any M&M's in it. Think fast, Mommy!
"Good boy! You get your hair cut, and you can have M&M's when we get home!" Despite my delivering this line with almost manic glee, you can probably imagine that it received a somewhat cool reception. By cool, I mean Jack began screaming M&M's repeatedly and with increasing volume. At that very moment, my eyes lit on a small basket underneath Christy's workstation. In it were various sugary goodies, including suckers, Starburst and Hershey's kisses. I don't know if she's diabetic, and this was actually her private stash. I really hope not, because I pounced on it like a drowning man would a life preserver.
"Look, Jack!", I said while unwrapping a kiss, "This is a really big M&M. If you're a good boy, you can have it. See, it's chocolate!"
He looked at me askance. "Chocolate?" he asked.
"Mmmm...hmmm -- chocolate," I replied.
He knew something wasn't ringing true, so he followed with "Big M&M?"
"Uh-huh. A BIIIIIIG M&M!" my desperation was definitely starting to show. "Now eat up and let's get your hair cut."
After one more credulous glance at me, Jack gave the kiss a final inspection and popped it in his mouth. "Mmmmm...good. Chocolate, " he sputtered around the kiss. "Big M&M."
Thank heaven -- we were in business at last, but we weren't out of the woods. She finished his bangs and crown, and a second kiss was needed to begin work in back. Even with the kisses in play, I was still extremely busy keeping him looking forward or down as Christy requested.
All was going as well as could be expected, considering that I was practically standing on my head shouting, "Look at me, Jack! Here's mommy by your shoes!! Look down! Look down! Look...o.k. no kicking, young man!!" With a third and final kiss, the job was done. I managed to ignore how much hair had been consumed with the 2nd and 3rd candies, and home was just over the horizon. I picked up purse, backpack, coat and...blast it all!!! There was still that dirty diaper to be dealt with. Jack was marching toward a bookcase full of highly breakable items for sale. Sometimes, you just know the "you break it, you buy it policy" is in effect without the words actually being said. I stood frozen, with the world in slow motion, glancing from Jack to the dirty diaper then back to Jack again -- this time much closer to the breakables. Christy gave a pat on the back, took the diaper and said pityingly , "I'll take care of this honey." The world snapped back to real time, I paid and we were on our way home...in the rain...with lots of big trucks all around us and Jack repeating "M&M's mommy?" 100 times and me answering, "When we get home baby."
O.k. I answered that way 99 times. The 100th time I shouted, "Jack! Are we home yet? No we are not! Therefore I cannot give you M&M's right now, so STOP ASKING!!!!" I heard him take a deep breath, and turned the radio up louder pretending with all my might that I couldn't hear the word M&M's breaking through the music. It worked for a moment, until XM Kids actually began leaking into my consciousness. I realized we were listening to the Power Ranger's theme song. It consisted of the phrase "Go! Go, Power Rangers!" chanted in a monotone at varying intervals accompanied by various techno thumps and crashes. With the stress of the morning still a fresh, raw wound, each cymbal cut deeper and deeper into my brain. I would have changed it, but for the moment Jack seemed mesmerized by the cacophony pouring from the speakers. I choked on a slightly deranged giggle, and tried to wait it out. When the DJ announced that Michael Buble was up next, I almost wept with joy. Then the familiar phrase, "Spider Man. Spider Man. Does whatever a spider can" wafted from the radio. THIS was Michael Buble? "Spins a web any size. Catches thieves just like flies."
At this point, I decided that none of this was really happening. I must be having an incredibly realistic nightmare, and just needed to pinch myself to wake up. As of 3 PM, I'm still pinching. And if this is a dream, shouldn't I be thinner?
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Jack's Birthday Pics
Jack's two favorites: Pizza and Food Coloring
Gus suffered through all this indignity and didn't even get any cake.
Tom -- every day is a party for this wild and crazy guy.
Sam screamed throughout the entire party. This was actually taken the day after.
Will, hampered by his lack of teeth, wonders if he can gum a slice of pizza.
Monday, February 05, 2007
S.O.S.
If you're reading this message, drop your mouse and SEND HELP! I've been marooned here for over 4 months now. The natives are a comely people...smiling and dimpled with soft apple cheeks. But don't be fooled. They're cunning and highly skilled in the most diabolical forms of torture. They began with sleep deprivation -- which, in hindsight, seems tame -- but have quickly moved on to far more effective means. A variant on water torture involves covering me from head to toe in regurgitated formula. They elude all my defenses -- burp cloths and lap pads are useless against the onslaught. Next comes sensory deprivation through constant screaming -- effectively preventing me from reading, watching television, talking on the phone or stringing together a coherent thought. The cruelty is inhuman. It is now evident that the screaming was simply a precursor to their sprouting tiny, but incredibly sharp teeth. Coupled with their incessant drooling, I grow more certain each day that they plan to eat me.
I am not sure what I hope you, dear reader, can accomplish in light of their superior intellect and highly evolved defense mechanisms. Perhaps an e-mail, a kind word of encouragement...or muzzles. Muzzles would be good, too.
Yours most sincerely,
The Castaway
I am not sure what I hope you, dear reader, can accomplish in light of their superior intellect and highly evolved defense mechanisms. Perhaps an e-mail, a kind word of encouragement...or muzzles. Muzzles would be good, too.
Yours most sincerely,
The Castaway
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