Tied In A Knot

I have had long hair for the majority of my life. In high school, it was to my waist and through college and beyond, not much shorter. When I had Little Miss, I cut it significantly, as she was a hair puller. Since then, I've been growing it out. I recently reached a milestone.



Yep, I can officially tie my hair into a knot. And it stays. It's pretty cool, I think.

I usually wear my hair curly, and it looks much shorter that way, but it's actually pretty long. Gotta love how curls shrink the hair up.



In fact, this gives you an idea of how much curls shrink up your hair:



That is ten inches of my hair. Gone. Chopped.

I donated my hair, and it's officiallly on its way to Pantene's Beautiful Lengths. I've been planning to donate my hair for awhile now, and I wanted to make sure that I had plenty to give.

Most organizations that collect donated hair make wigs for children who need them, obviously replacing hair lost from chemo being the major reason. Pantene is the only one that also makes wigs for adults. After thinking long and hard, I realized that I've been touched by cancer in adults too often lately to not try to go this way.

J's mom is a breast cancer survivor, a neighbor passed away last month of brain cancer, a friend from college passed away Thursday (unbeknownst to me that she was that close to dying when I donated, although I thought of her when making the donation) of breast/brain/liver cancer, a friend's mom passed away yesterday from breast cancer, and the list goes on.

On Wednesday, I took a deep breath and drove to my salon. I told them that I was going to donate my hair, and that they had the freedom to do whatever they want with the end cut. I don't know what my hair looks like short, so I have no real opinion. They thought it was a neat thing, and I think I may have encouraged a few others to go this route, too.

Interestingly, the woman at the post office (we have the nicest post office in the world) is a frequent donor. The first time she donated, she gave 18 inches - wow! Things I learned from her: most places will cut your hair for free if you're donating and they'll also take care of mailing it in if you donate to Locks of Love. However, Pantene appears to be the only organization that will send you a letter confirming your donation.

As for me, I'm planning to grow my hair out again and donate until my hair is more than five percent grey (when they can no longer take it). It was a really neat feeling... and I need some neat feelings these days. There hasn't been nearly enough rainbows and sunshine in my life with the recent passings and other issues (a friend's required hysterecomy due to health issues, another friend's third miscarriage since September). This -- such a great feeling!

So what do you think? This is the cut they gave me from the salon (the girl didn't know how to style curly hair, so she blew it straight).





Fortunately, I've also discovered that my hair is still curly -- or at least somewhat so. I'm still getting used to the new cut, especially when I go to shampoo or brush it and I remember my old length just isn't there.



Have you ever donated your hair? Or thought about it? Just tell me I didn't make a huge mistake with this haircut!

I Should Be Working

It's 9:12am as I start this post. It's a Thursday, which is one of my work days. I work twenty-four hours a week. This was my agreement when I went back to work, and i's what I'm comfortable with.

It's not that way lately. My boss at my annual review in March made the comment that three days a week is now the equivalent of 30-35 hours a week. I'm not ok with that, and his boss and his boss are with me on the twenty-four hours thing.

So far this week, I worked my eight hours on Monday, nine and three quarters on Tuesday, and I had three hours of conference calls on my day off. They were spread throughout the day, which meant that it was exceedingly hard to run the errands and get the things done that I need to, let alone spend time with the wee ones. I had no Fourth of July holiday last week but worked as normal instead. Per my log, I've already worked enough hours as of yesterday to cover this week and next week, with a couple to spare.

And yet, I have this feeling eating at me that people think I'm not doing enough. That they might "catch" me during this seventeen minues that I "should" be working. Logically, I know I won't get in trouble if I don't answer my phone or email because I'm not logged in. Logically, I know I have and I am going above and beyond the time and effort that is required of me -- down to not taking lunch breaks because I'm busy working and often in meetings.

But I'm still paranoid that it's not enough. I still feel like I'm trying to get away with something because I'm not logged in ninteen minutes into the official workday.

I'll ignore the fact that my boss frequently doesn't make it in until 9:30. Who cares that the people in the office will spend an hour or more a day gossiping and doing their own personal things instead of working. Who cares that the entire office checks out on Friday afternoons. Who cares that there is a strong contingent of people who come in at nine on the dot, take an hour or more for lunch, and then leave at five on the dot -- putting in seven hour days.

I'm paranoid that I'm not seen as doing exactly what I need to do. And this means that everything at home suffers, from the dinners that I don't have time to always prepare to the gym workouts I miss to the playdates I have to cancel.

Needless to say, this paranoia -- which my boss feeds -- is driving me close to the edge. I have a deal with myself right now that I'll quit working once the school year starts, just to get me through the next two months. After that (if I don't quit), I'll tell myself that I'll stay until the end of the year to make sure I use up my vacation, which I haven't done in the three years since I started back part time.

It's not healthy, and I know I'm not happy. How do you justify quitting your job in this economy though?

9:25am. I really need to go log in and start work now.

I Don't Beat My Children

I swear I don't.

However, this is Little Miss today. I've faced the question constantly over the past four days, "What happened? Did you punch her or something?"



*sigh*

No, I didn't touch her. I would never touch either of the wee ones. Little Miss happens to be allergic to mosquitoes. If you look carefully, you can see the bite -- now that the swelling and bruising has gone down slightly four days later.



You'd think that I would keep her at home when she looks like this - and worse in previous days. You'd think that I'd have the sense to avoid the questions and the suspicious looks.

Nope. Not so much. Little Miss has been to the nursery at church, in church, to the childcare area at our club, to the pool, to Spanish classes, to gymnastics, out to dinner, and to the grocery store.

And everywhere I go, I now preface it with, "Little Miss is allergic to mosquitoes. Her eye is pretty well swollen, but it isn't an eye infection and nothing is contagious."

We stay inside whenever we expect mosquitoes, and we use the new clip-on bug keep away things. They work, for the most part. But wow, were those mosquitoes vicious on the Fourth. She got bit twice on her arm and one additional bit on her jaw line. Poor kid.

But next time she gets bit near her eye and it looks like she's got a shiner versus the usual swelling and bruising on her arm or leg, I'm putting her into hiding until it goes away!

Fingers crossed that she outgrows this allergy someday! Soon.

Tasty Tuesday!

I know I said that once the temperature turns up, my oven turns off, but I do occasionally make small exceptions. When new neighbors moved in, I made M&M cookies for them (with a couple extra for us).

The wee ones loved helping, with Mister Man making sure that every M&M was placed M side down and Little Miss making sure she added exactly four extra M&Ms to the tops of each cookie before they went into the oven, which Mister Man then had to alter of course. They're just chips off the old block.

I mentioned this, and I was immediately told that I have to bring cookies to BlogHer, especially to the sleepover the night before. Twist my arm! So far, I'm bringing the M&M cookies and chocolate chip. I know which M&M cookies I'll make, but there are so many chocolate chip options I'm still noodling over!

Regardless, the wee ones will definitely help me again. Both with the measuring and mixing and the tasting. Yes, I allow the wee ones to eat raw cookie dough. The eggs are irradiated!

While I'm mulling the chocolate chip option, I figure the least I can do is share my M&M cookie recipe....

Classic M&M Cookies

Ingreients:
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 c butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
~1/3 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups M&Ms

Directions:

Cream butter and sugars. Keep beating until it lightens in color and comes together again. Add vanilla and eggs, and beat until well combined.

Add baking soda and salt and beat again. Add flour and mix on low speed until just combined. Add 1 c of the M&Ms and stir by hand to distribute.

Drop teaspoonfuls onto cookie sheet. Add 3-4 M&Ms to each cookie top and press in gently.

Bake at 350 degrees 9-12 minutes (it will vary by your oven).

Notes:
This makes 42 cookies when I make them.

Using half butter and half shortening makes for fluffier cookies that are softer while still having the yummy taste of butter.

And it's possible that I use slightly more than 1 1/2 cups of M&Ms when I make them :)

Enjoy! And don't forget to check out more fun recipes at Tempt My Tummy Tuesday with Blessed By Grace!

What's A Bris?

Today, we had the joy of attending Jordan Barrett's bris. He was born 3 1/2 weeks early -- and that's a story unto itself -- but he is perfectly healthy and adorable. His parents are having a great time with him, except for the lack of sleeping thing, and his older sister and brother are enjoying the new addition, too.

On our way home from the bris, Little Miss asked to call Grandma. I discovered she wanted to tell Grandma all about the bris, since Grandma has never been to one before.

So first the baby was hot, so they took off the bottom part of his pjs. Then he cried, so everyone sang a song, and then he was happy. Oh, and I got a lollipop! It was butterscotch!

Yes, that's the bris through Little Miss's eyes.

In actuality, the bris is a celebration (correct me when I start to go wrong Melisa!) of a baby boy inviting the prophet Elijah to join them, as he is an honored guest. He is circumcised at eight days old to signify his bond with God.

Soo, yep, they take off his pj bottoms, but only because they need to get to the surgical area, not because he was cold.

And ummm yes, he cried, but that was partly at the pain (and he HARDLY cried at all -- quickest and least painful circumcision I've ever been witness to) and partly because he was half undressed. A song was song, but it is the celebration of the mitzvah and not to calm the child. I don't know the song, as we aren't Jewish, but Little Miss also enjoyed it.

After the bris, we were invited to the meal, and there was little that Little Miss could definitively eat (it was catered, so she was stuck with the fruit, lox and tomatoes). After all the kids finished eating, they ran in the hallway to play. The older sister attended preschool at the temple, so she led all the kids to the office where they purloined (or were given) lollipops.

In this case though, I didn't see the need to correct Little Miss. I rather liked her version of the bris!

Bad Mommy, Bad!

Sooo, when I picked up the mail today, Mister Man was invited to a birthday party. Really, this isn't anything unusual or shocking. We get invited to birthday parties just as often as any other family.

As I went to write down the party on our calendar, I flipped over to August and wrote the time and place on the 22nd.

That's when I realized that umm I'm doing it again. Little Miss turns four on August 1. This is the first time that I've thought about her party. Once again, she's given short shrift, and this year she'll know it.

It's challenging to have a late summer birthday, especially at her age. While she'll be in the same preschool next year as she was this year (unlike last year!), she will have few, if any, of the same students in her class. She's doing gymnastics, but it's a drop in program so the same students aren't there day after day. We don't do daycare in the summer because my husband is off all summer. And given our schedules, while we play with some of the older kids in our neighborhood, we aren't super good friends with the few children Little Miss's age.

*sigh*

She knows she deserves a birthday party, and she goes to plenty -- in fact, we missed one last weekend when we were in St. Louis and she has one on the 18th. I hate to invite people we may not be seeing in the future, as feels like we're inviting them to get presents, but that's the life of a late summer birthday, right?

So now I have to start calling venues to see who is available on August 1. Or August 29. Those are the only Saturdays in August that we're free already. Somehow, I have a feeling that we're going to need to host a birthday during the week, which will lead to the comments (from the children, but I wonder where they got them) about why on earth we would ever have a party during the WEEK of all times.

Aaaaand, this is going to be a small party. We'll invite our friends from playgroup and from daycare, and maybe a couple from the neighborhood.

What do you do for those late summer birthdays? At least with Mister Man, I can get the class list the first week of school and send out invites knowing he'll be playing with those kids all year long. She's definitely tougher.

So let's see, in the next week, I need to find a venue, settle on a date, determine the guest list and get those invitations out. After I make them. Oops.

At least I have time to figure out how to do a dairy free cake that all the kids can eat, get the decorations, and figure out the dreaded goody bags. A little time.

Sorry, Little Miss. I promise it isn't that I don't love you as much as Mister Man. Somehow, your birthday just sneaks up on us every year. As you get older and have a core group of best friends, I promise we'll do your birthday up right with good fun and good friends. In the meantime, I'll just live with the Mommy Guilt.

And seriously, the girl is turning four in less than a month. How has this happened? Tell me I'm not the only one who forgets to plan birthday parties.

Mommy Love

My husband came home from the store where he had taken Mister Man to relay this. If only I'd been there.

Pssst. Psst, Daddy! That lady asked that little girl who had the best mommy ever, and the little girl said she did, but that's not true! I have the best mommy ever. She's wrong!

I can only hope he feels the same way five, ten, fifteen years from now. Thanks, Mister Man. I love you, and you're the greatest kid ever!