Tag Archives: change


My sweet son –

Happy birthday! You turned three today…it hurts my heart a tiny bit just to say it. You are tall enough now that I can rest my hand on the back of your head and kind enough to permit me to do so. You are changing so fast, every day brings something new – words I can’t fathom how you know, skills I can’t believe you mastered so quickly, and play I can’t figure how you imagined.

I’d like to tell you every day is perfect, but you are old enough now to realize that’s not true and tell us when you are hurt or scared or mad, and acknowledge when one of us feels the same way. There are moments of incredible frustration, like when Daddy and I took you to the National Air and Space Museum to see “rocketships” but you were having none of it, pitching a fit on the floor while school kids milled around. But those times are balanced by moments of such gentleness and love; one of my favorite times of the day is when you first wake and come in to snuggle with us, smelling like lavender and sleep. We yell and cry, and are by no means a quiet family. But there is love to spare and you are so quick with yours that it sometimes takes my breath.

You’ve accomplished so much in just one year. Within weeks of turning two you Houdini’d your way out of your crib, grinning at us as you monkey-climbed down the other side. You learned to ride bike, made friends at the park, spent hours reading to yourself and us, helped mommy cook, discovered a love of superheroes and baseball. And your language….one day during the summer I found myself staring at you, trying to decipher your baby tongue, only to realize you were speaking in entire sentences. You have such a way with words and I am so proud to see you try them out, it sometimes looks as if you can almost taste them on your lips. You take on each day with bright eyes and infectious spirit, and I find myself inspired.

As I tucked you in the night before your birthday you pulled my hand down and whispered “You make me happy.” You have no idea, my son. No longer a baby, my heart will not yet allow me to call you a big boy. But you are, without a doubt, my Sweet Boy, and I wish you the happiest of birthdays.

Happy birthday Sweet Boy!

Happy birthday Sweet Boy!

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Posted by on February 28, 2014 in family, Parenting, Remember


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Happy (Hair) Days are Here Again

My husband is what I would refer to as a Cheap Bastard.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s part of the reason I married him.  I’m a firm believer that there is something wrong with paying more than $12 for a t-shirt and I pride myself on the myriad of ways I find to save money (ironically, CB is embarrassed by some of these methods).  That said, CB has a habit of picking the most inopportune time to start complaining about some cost or necessity.

 Me:  Let’s stop at the store on the way home, we need a few groceries.

CB:  What?  Can’t it wait?!

Me:  We’re out of milk, bread and cereal, and the dogs have been eyeing up the baby since they’ve been out of food since last night.

CB:  We get a paycheck next Friday, can’t it wait until then?

Me:  Sure, but when the dogs go wild with hunger over the next ten days I hope they remember this conversation and start with the meaty one.

CB:  Okay.  Wait, am I the meaty one?

If groceries set him off, my beautification needs are an endless source of cheap-bastardly concern.  I am blessed with hair that takes on a Wookie-like demeanor as it grows out and it needs to be cut a bit more often than CB would like, especially since I continue to refuse his offers to cut it himself.  In fairness, the cost of getting this mop cut and highlighted has begun to resemble the GNP of a small island country.  After some hit or miss debacles when I first moved here, I managed to find a stylist I love and have followed her through several salon changes, each unfortunately more expensive than the last.  Having a touch of the CB condition myself, I do make every effort to save for and strategically plan hair and face needs well in advance, make sacrifices (many of my shoes are on their third re-soling) to offset the expense, and when asked for gift ideas always mention either my hair stylist or esthetician. 

Despite my efforts, last week I raised the haircut issue and was once again greeted with “can’t it wait?!” with CB pulling out a slightly whiney voice that made me want to punch him in his face.  Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had my hair cut in a YEAR and I’d been reduced to wearing headbands and ponytails every single day for months.  Either way, it was getting done, and concessions were made.  Which is why I found myself in a gritty salon, sitting in an unfamiliar chair and staring into the mirror to see an unfamiliar stylist into whose hands I was about to place my complete hair trust.  All around me were ladies getting short cuts, or long hair put into beehives, and lots of raspy gossip (seriously, it was like a bad John Waters movie).  I came armed with several examples of exactly what I wanted done and prayed that the stylist could understand what I was saying to her better than what I could decipher through her very thick accent.  And I just kept thinking, praying, that whatever this woman did, it had to be better than another week of headbands.  Yes, definitely had to be.

I’d like to think she did a good job, as opposed to my hair just being so hideous before that there was nowhere to go but up.  For his part, CB took great pains to tell me how great my new hair looked and how I’d never been more beautiful.   They didn’t offer me wine or snacks like my old salon, but based on the snippets of conversation I caught, I’m guessing they wouldn’t mind so much if I brought my own.  I wonder if my old stylist is looking for somewhere new to park her scissors.


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