It's the absent-Hubby Shuffle!

Left to my own devices, I get bored. When I am bored, I often decide to do radical things "just for fun." Case in point: tonight, I decided to chop almost all of my hair off.

It started like this:

Here is me with my Papa.

See, nice and long. And a few (thousand) snips later (no, for those of you who are wondering, I did NOT attempt to cut my own hair. My lovely MIL did it for me), it looked like this:

So what do you think?! Big shock right? At first, I was like that too. My initial reaction was something like this:

And it took me a minute to decide if I actually liked it. While contemplating I looked something like this:

And then I realized I LOOOOVED IT! It's cute, and easy to take care of an super versatile. Check this out:

I can pull it back

It's even cute when it's a little messy

And I can make that goofy "I'm-taking-my-own-photo-for-my-blog-let-me-suck-my-cheeks-in-unnaturally" face NO PROBLEMO

So what do y'all think?

For another absent-Hubby inspired transformation, go check out my work wife's blog HERE. She is doing something super groovy to her hair as we speak! 

Confession: Nicknames

I have a bad habit that I want to confess to. I give people nicknames. And I take my time choosing them, because they have to fit just right.

Here’s another thing:  When I choose them, they stick. Like, if I meet you once and give you a nickname because of something I notice about you, and then we later become friends, I will secretly (and by secretly I mean to myself and my husband… and a select few friends who understand my bad habit) always refer to you by your nickname, not by your real name.

And I want to take a minute and say to all of you: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, Bubba, that you were the fifth Megan on my soccer team in 5^th grade and you needed a nickname for Coach’s yelling purposes that had nothing to do/sounded nothing like “Megan.”

I apologize, Jiggy, that you happened to start/be really excited about Irish dance the year I met you. I’m also sorry that I called you Jiggy in front of your fiancé last year when I randomly saw you at a fall festival after not having seen you since 7^th grade.

Forgive me, Mannequin (aka Manny/Quinn, depending on who was around and was in on the joke), for noticing one day in high school that the DAY after American Eagle put up a new mannequin at the mall, you were always wearing the exact outfit that the mannequin was, even though you were nowhere near the standard mannequin size of 2 and some of those low-rise jeans looked like they were being eaten by your tushie. Really I was probably jealous that my mom wouldn’t buy all of my clothes from the trendy stores, but that’s for another post. Another marathon post.  (Oh and another thing: I’m sorry I nicknamed your boyfriend Dancing Queen. But let’s be fair… you chose to date a boy who lettered in Dance Team.) (I shouldn’t say things like that since I lettered in Academics and Choir… *cough* GEEK.)

Mea culpa, Mail Order Bride, that you met/cybered (ok -- we were all in middle school once, we ALL know what that means) your now-husband ON FACEBOOK while he was Facebook-officially “In a Relationship” with someone else. I’m sorry, but that’s trashy.

Point of Order, Jack (name that movie, y’all): I’m not really sorry RE: Mail Order Bride.

And finally, I beseech you, Joseph, Kia, and FTP, to forgive those of us who came up with your nicknames because of the fact that our small colony of cubes makes it impossible for us to ignore your idiosyncrasies.

So there. I said it. Still love me? 

Craigslist: I love you, I love you not...

I love you…

… for finding awesome, nice, really-in-need people to buy our extra washer and dryer, and for the fact that they didn’t haggle me to death.

… for being an online site where I can browse cheap furniture to fill the voids in my home caused by going from an 1250 square foot home to a 2600 square foot home.

… for providing endless entertainment for my (childish) husband and I when we read Casual Encounters to each other in a sexy voice, just to see who breaks character first.

… for the way you provide things right when I need them, like a home last June, or a jogging stroller yesterday…

Which brings me to…..

I love you NOT…

… for allowing married to post in the personals ad seeking “discreet” second relationships. Gross.

… for The Craigslist Killer. Seriously, Lifetime Movie Network, why did you have to do that to me? Now every time I’m selling something and people are coming to look at it, I’m also acutely aware of where the nearest baseball bat/knife/heavy-object –that-I-can-turn-into-a-weapon is.

To protect the (not-so) innocent, this is not the jogging stroller in question.

… for the woman I had to deal with today RE: aforementioned jogging stroller. So here’s the backstory: I want a jogging stroller because I have some baby jiggle around the middle yet to lose, and I just moved to a street that has a butt-kicking hill that I can burn some major calories (read: I eat Nutella every day)on. So I logged onto Craigslist yesterday at work, checked under the “baby&kids” section, and VIOLA, there it was, a $30 jogging stroller.  So I text the woman who is selling it (her request, not mine… I would have rather made a phone call, but ok, jogging-stroller-owner, we’ll play it your way). She is super standoffish when I ask if she is ever in Charlottesville, and waits a full 12 hours to text me back and tell me, “You can pick it up today if you want, but I won’t hold it. It’s first-come first-served.” Which is followed two hours later by one word: “Sold.”  Um, excuse me? I know for a FACT that I responded first to your ad, since I texted you less than 30 minutes after you posted it – so have a little bit of sales integrity and don’t sell it to the first person who can get to you.  Especially since the reason I don’t have much time to work out (aka I need to be able to take my baby with me when I work out and not pay for a gym membership AND childcare at said gym) BECAUSE I WORK ALL DAY. I do not have time to drive 25 miles in the middle of the day to get your stroller. I was temped to text her right back and say, “Well that was rude of you. I was going to give you $50 for it.” Instead, I decided to take the high road and vent via this blog instead. Though I would be lying if I said I didn’t stick out my tongue at my cell phone in a not-so-nice way. 

Reflections on...

For as long as I can remember, I have kept a diary. When I was little, it was my Pocahontas diary, purple with a shiny gold lock, where I wrote mostly about things I wanted, like Barbies, and the odd times when I got mad at my mom for "loving the dog more than me" (I was a little dramatic. "Was??" says Chad). Then I got a little older, and I moved on to pretty, flowery bound journals from Barnes and Noble where I wrote about.... BOYS. In fact, I probably need to go back to my parents' house and burn some of those for the graphic descriptions of high-school make-outs they probably contain. Eek.

And then I went to college, where I discovered the beauty and the simplicity of the Moleskine Notebook (Google it!). I bought them in three packs and filled them up with song lyrics, magazine cutouts, bits of poetry (quotations and my own), movie and concert tickets, random musings, wine reviews, longer and more serious entries, and things I didn't want to forget.

I think around the time Parker was born I stopped writing so often. Apparently I had other things to do (like breastfeed every 90 minutes for SIX MONTHS). But I unearthed my last notebook (#8, covering August 2009 - the present, kinda) yesterday whilst unpacking my office, and I found some things I wanted to share.

My entry from 8/3/2010, a little more than a month before Parker was born.

Things I Want to Teach My Son
(In no particular order)

• Respect women. Women are your sisters and your partners in life.
• Stay healthy. Mind as well as body.
• Learn how to balance a checkbook the old-fashioned way. It's the key to being responsible with money.
• Don't get mad about things over which you have no control. You're predisposed to this because of your parents, unfortunately.
• The only thing you should do in excess is love others. So keep the drinking/swearing, etc. in check.
• Get the best education you can in whatever inspires you the most -- if that means a non-traditional path, that's ok.
• Listen more than you speak
• The old maxim "Never go to sleep angry" is untrue! Sometimes its good to sleep on your anger, then wake up and see if whatever you were angry about is still important
• Keep in mind that all problems are relative. When you think you have it rough, think of others who have it rougher.
• Enjoy reading for pleasure. Everyday authors are some of the best teachers out there. 
• Don't be shy.
• Don't be afraid to speak your mind, even if it means talking back to me.
• Don't be afraid to stand your ground, even if it's an adult telling you you're wrong. Gut instincts are rarely misleading.
• Trust others until they give you a reason not to.
• Have a relationship with God, in whatever form it takes.
• Try new things, but don't be reckless. You'll be able to tell the difference between what might make a great story and what might get you hurt or in trouble.
• Always forgive. Never forget. 
• Be creative. Don't always take the easy way out -- finding a new way is usually much more fun.
• Open doors for women even if they look like feminists.
• Don't pretend to be something/someone you're not for the benefit of others. 
• Follow through.
• Don't hold grudges. 
• Lean on your family when you need to. We will never walk out on you.
• Pick up after yourself, whether or not you're a guest in someone's home. 
• After you pray and talk to God, be still for a while and let Him talk to you. 

And to follow that up, my entry from 11/18/2010, in all of its sleep-deprived glory. (You'll quickly notice the difference between the two).

Reflections on pregnancy:

• First trimester is sick. Second trimester is fun. Third trimester is fat and wobbly.
• I was healthier than at any other time in my life.
• I loved the attention (weirdly enough, especially having to go to the doctor all the time). 
• Maternity clothes are ridiculously comfortable. I honestly never want to wear zip-up pants ever again.
• Everyone laughter when Juno said she was a "sacred vessel," but it's really true. Life suddenly has importance and direction, and you realize your place in the larger scheme of things. 
• Hormones RAGE for 40 weeks. Tempers flare. Tears fall. Doors slam. But it's not you that's the bitch -- it's your hormones.
• Designing a nursery is so fun. But it's easy to go WAY overboard.
• None of the old wives tricks for inducing labor work. So eff you Eggplant Parmesan.
• Being overdue is maybe the worst form of torture ever.
• Use. The. Cocoa. Butter. My spiderweb belly thanks you in advance, amen. 
• People will give you most everything you need -- so save your $$$ for diapers. No really.
• Don't eat for two or you'll blow up. Eat for one chicken and one chicken nugget. Seriously -- 200-400 extra calories per day, and most should be calcium or protein.
• If you won't feel comfortable with one of the tests (ultrasound, amnio, Down's screening, etc...) -- you have the right and the responsibility even to say "No."
• Get pedicures. Your third trimester sausage toes will thank you, as will your OB at the delivery.
• On that note -- keep downstairs trimmed up, even when you can't see it. Trust me -- it will make you feel good about yourself.
• If you crave hot wings like I did, indulge knowing you will suffer the wrath of heartburn all night long. Mmmmmmm jalapeño cheddar. 

Reflections on childbirth:

• The nurses make all the difference.
• Tell them when it hurts, and exactly where it hurts.
• Don't get lazy about pushing -- give it your full effort all the time.
• Eating is not a great idea -- but staying hydrated is a must (Recall: puking up red Jello. Chugging club soda).
• Ask all of your questions
• Do all of the exercises they tell you to do. The birthing ball is interesting. The whirlpool tub is blissful (relatively speaking...).
• Surround yourself with the people you love. It makes the pain not as painful.
• Have people bring you food the next day -- guaranteed you will be starving and will NOT want hospital meatloaf.

Reflections on early infancy:

• It's ok to be scared to death that you're doing something wrong, but rest assured that most of the time you're not.
• Sleep train ASAP. Dark = sleep, Light = play.
• For the love of God, Breastfeed!
• If you happen to cry or laugh for no good reason or your tear spout comes on and you don't know how to turn it off -- it's not you that's the basketcase, it's your hormones.
• Call your mom. 10x a day if you need to.
• Let people help you. Let people take the baby (or your husband) off your hand -- even if it's just so you can sleep, even if they are just in the next room over.
• It's ok to feel lonely when it's just you and the baby. They are basically cute blobs for the first couple months. Don't expect fun company for a while.
• Read to him -- even if it's People Magazine.
• Take too many pictures.
• Take other people's advice with a SERIOUS grain of salt (I know this seems ironic considering the point of these "reflections," but you know what I mean.)

So what do you all think of me now? :) 

Sorry for the marathon post! I promise the next one will be shorter (and not so long coming!).