The Hair "Trim"

Do you have a hysterical toddler that hates getting their hair cut? What is wrong with these children? I don't get it. A strange person holding sharp scissors near your head-what's so scary?

I took Gwen yesterday to get her hair cut. She went bananas. Out of her mind bananas.

We left the salon embarrassed (me) and sobbing (Gwen) without the hair cut.

She so needed her hair cut. Her fine wispy hair is a disaster. I do it everyday. Everyday it looks cute. But 15 minutes later it looks like this:

The hair is typical, but the dirt on her face is not. We were planting our garden and she is usually not this homeless looking. At least most of the time.

Her little baby hairs would never hold a clip and they weren't long enough to fit into her piggies. It needed immediate attention. But she was out right petrified.

Last night I explained to her again that we were going to get her hair cut. I would be taking her to the children's salon. And she was going to like it. She was going to like. Because I'm the mom and that's what I said.

This morning, I told her again about the hair cut. And again she got hysterical. I was so frustrated...I was sure telling her I was the mother would make her be okay with it.

I was at a loss. So in all my frustration I sat at the computer and typed into google "toddler scared of hair cut". (I know I should be embarrassed for admitting I searched the Internet on how to handle my impossibly frightened two year old, but seriously, I was desperate...see picture above or scroll through the last 3 months worth of Gwen pictures if you forget why.)

The first article said besides the dentist toddlers are most scared of barbers. Never, never tell a toddler "we are going to get your hair cut."

Great. Been there already. Done that. I'm horrible.

It said "cut" is the scary word. Cutting hurts. Cuts bleed. Never, ever say cut. It suggested you use the word "trim". And be sure to say that hair grows back. Also, make it a fun outing.

Ok, so I was going to give this mumbo-jumbo psychology stuff a try. I told Gwen that she was going to get her hair trimmed and afterwards we were going to have a playdate with her favorite little friend. I said we were going to get her in her prettiest dress and go have a fun day at the salon. She repeated that she didn't want to get her hair cut. I said, "No, no. We're not going to get your hair cut. Cuts hurt. We're only going to get a trim. You can't even feel a trim."

She got dressed and kept talking about her playdate. She repeated over and over, "cuts hurt. Trims don't hurt." We showed up at the salon. We were the only ones there, thank goodness. She hesitated a bit, but picked the pink Jeep to sit in. She ate a dum-dum and watched the Wonder Pets. Didn't even shed on tear.

It was magical. Mumbo-jumbo nothing. That psychology stuff works.

I learned a few things from this experience:

1. The Internet is really, really smart.

2. A pretty dress can fix everything.

3. Bribing with playdates is very effective.

4. Children will do anything to get a ring pop.

5. Saying, "because I'm the mom" works like crap.

Sunday Afternoon

Oh. I'm sorry Joe. Was that you up all night feeding Henry?

No really boys. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You go ahead and catch up on some sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted.

Tulip Fields

I'm a city girl. I'm a city girl who married a country boy. I love being in a busy city with tall buildings. I love the excitement that can be felt with people and cars buzzing all around. The commotion. The rushing about. For me, it's a beautiful place to be.

Joe on the other hand is a small town kind of guy. He feels claustrophobic in the city. All the tall buildings obstruct his view of wide open spaces and he feels trapped. His laid back personality turns uncomfortable with hustle and bustle. He hates crowds, not to mention traffic.

Needless to say, we imagine raising our family in very different places. Good thing that decision isn't ours for a few more years. We're happily not crossing that bridge just yet. It might be a very ugly bridge when we get there...especially for Joe since we all know who really makes final decisions around here!

But recently we headed up to the Tulip Festival and I couldn't deny the beauty of the quiet miles and miles of farms and fields. It was peaceful and serene. Spending the afternoon there with my family was relaxing and enjoyable. We reconnected and it felt like the world's worries were light years away. I saw the benefits to a place so far away from civilization. I could see how it would be easier to stay focused. To remember the important, eternal purpose of life. There wasn't an overwhelming feeling to hurry life along and move on to the next thing. Or to get caught up in unimportant, trivial aspects of everyday living. We were just a family, living in the moment and loving it. I thought, maybe, just maybe, I could live in the sticks.

Then I imagined how far I'd have to travel to the nearest shopping mall and my silly thoughts were quickly laughed aside. Because that is neither unimportant or trivial.

As we drove home, leaving the tranquil farm homes and golden fields behind, through rush hour traffic in downtown Seattle, I thought about our future. I daydreamed about living in Southern California on a huge plot of land overlooking the beach. Joe worked at the hospital down the street. The one he didn't even have to get on the freeway to get to. I was a stay-at-home-tulip-farmer-mom. We had a houseful of children. And we had the best of both worlds.

It was a beautiful daydream. Another silly one I had to laugh away. Oh, what ever are we going to do? Our future is so undecided. But I like to look at it as a beautiful mess. Our future is a beautiful, undecided mess that I am so lucky to be a part of and wouldn't trade the world for.

Rehab

Hi, my name is Henry and I'm a milkaholic.

And my mom is planning an intervention for 3:30 am tomorrow morning.

Little does she know, I'm not going down without a fight. A loud, crying, screaming, squealing, arm flailing fight.

Spring Time

You know it's Spring Time when:

1. Your daughters have their first outdoor picnic with all their favorite dolls and stuffed animals.

2. The trees are blossoming and your daughters point each one out and sing Popcorn Popping.

3. Your strawberry plants finally look alive.

4. You paint your toenails and wear open toed shoes.

5. Your daughters play date includes running and screaming and playing tag...outside!

6. The weather is so nice that after a decade you actually go for a run.

7. When you tell your daughters it's bedtime, they don't believe you because it's still so light outside. Love that!

8. You can go on walks as a family after your husband gets home from work and not have to wear coats and hats.

9. Your daughters want to wear a sundress and finally you let them...jeans include of course.

10. There's rain in the forecast tomorrow...

A Mother's Love

Pictures courtesy of Gabriella

You know what I realized today? Two days after Henry became a month old? The only pictures I have of he and I are from the day he was born. That's it. And they weren't very flattering pictures of either of us if I'm being honest. I wasn't looking so hot after hours of labor, and Henry hadn't even been washed off. So although I'm not looking much hotter from those first pictures (just ignore the belly rolls), at least there's proof that I did do more with this little smoocher (that's Gabriella's nickname for him) than just give birth.

We have had many diaper changes and spit up clean ups. We've talked until the wee hours of the night and stayed up rocking ourselves to sleep. We've kissed and convinced ourselves that there have been smiles already. We've worked on tummy time and failed completely. It's been pure bliss. I sometimes wish these early weeks away with a newborn, because I can't wait to sleep again. But this time around, I'm embracing the sleep deprivation. Because, I know that with a full nights sleep comes a bigger, older baby. And I really love the newborn stage. I love that I get to do everything for him. I love each and every ounce of work it takes to be a mom. Especially to a newborn.

I can remember sitting in our very tiny apartment days after Gabriella was born. It was early in the morning and my mom was still there with us. I will never forget what she said to me as I sat in my robe on the couch, after hours of not sleeping, feeding Gabriella for the millionth time. She commented on how much a mother does for her babies. How much mothers love their babies. And how those babies don't even remember that early work and love their mother had.

I thought about that. And it's true. I have no idea all that my mom has done for me. Especially as a baby. I can't imagine her nights with newborn twins and her days with three other children to care for. I have no idea how much she sacrificed. I will never know that.

But now that I'm a mom, I think I have a pretty good idea of what that love feels like.

My children can't possibly know how much I love them. They just can't. But one day when my girls become mothers, I'm confident they'll understand that a mothers love is the greatest love. That being a mom is sacred and special and the most important, greatest thing they will ever possibly do. Being a mom makes me who I am. I love being a mom. I'm proud to be a mom. I am so grateful that I will never stop being a mom.

When my mom left a few weeks ago, Gabs asked me if I would come stay with her when she had her babies. It chokes me up every time I think of that. Tears welled up in my eyes and I told her I wouldn't miss it for the world. Because, as proud as I am of my girls now, I can't imagine what seeing your babies having their own babies does to a mother's love. For my daughters to experience motherhood and that love is something I am very much looking forward to.

But for right now, I am going to continue enjoying every second of being a mom to these three perfect babies in my life. And love them all that I can. Because that's my entire purpose for being here.

It's Not Fair

Growing up I was lucky enough to have my twin sister to do everything with. We had the same friends, played on the same teams, and went everywhere together. Where she went, I went. Where I went, she went. We were a package deal. No one even expected to see us separate.

I remember the first time we weren't both included though. We were in fourth or fifth grade and Bryn was invited to Knott's Scary Farm with a friend. Not both of us. Just Bryn. I remember being devastated. It was like a dagger had stabbed me in the heart. For the first time we weren't equal. A friend had chosen, and they had chosen Bryn. It was horrible.

So Bryn got to go to Knott's Scary Farm and sleep over at my use to be friend's house. If I remember correctly, my mom was out of town and couldn't believe that my dad allowed Bryn to go without me. I mean what kind of friend splits up twins? It's unthinkable! I'm pretty sure my mom was ticked off enough that she insisted my dad do something with me so I wouldn't feel so bad. He took me to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Woo-hoo (no offense dad, but a fourth grader with her dad...not so cool).

But then, when we were in high school, I was asked out on a date. This wasn't a typical, ordinary high school date. This was a date to LA to go see Phantom of the Opera. I was so excited. And this time, Bryn was left out. Again, my mom felt horrible that one of us was getting to do something great without the other. So, Bryn got to go to Arizona to visit my sister for the weekend. By the way, that was a way better consolation prize mom.

But, I understand now. It broke my moms heart to see us not get the same things. I understand that now, because my heart gets broken when it happens to my girls.

Gabs and Gwen are the best of friends. But Gabriella is older and she has other friends too. She gets to go to preschool and on play dates. Just in the month of March, she went to four birthday parties. We had to tell Gwen each time, that just Gabs got to go. Gwen knew the friends having the party, she thinks they're best friends too. But she's two and of course she wasn't invited. It killed me each time.

We often have play dates at the very homes that Gabs goes to preschool. Gwen just cries in the car when we drop Gabriella off for preschool because she wants to go too. She gets to play at those homes, but doesn't get to go to preschool there. It just doesn't make sense to her. I feel awful each time she has to say good bye to Gabs. I know she is so confused and hurt by it all. Just the other day we went to sign Gabriella up for preschool for next year, and poor Gwen thought the whole time that it was her school too. I broke her heart again when I told her it was only for Gabriella this time.

So, like my mom, I too try to find ways to make Gwen feel better. It's hard for a mother to see how unfair it is. We try to have as many play dates here, so Gwen is included too. I buy her a bag of marshmallows to eat while we're at the super market. Or I'll ask for a few extra suckers at the bank for her to eat. We'll stop in at the local children's museum during Gabriella's preschool. Or we'll drink a few mugs of hot chocolate at home while playing Pet shops together. But, I admit, it all seems like sloppy seconds. I know she would rather be doing what Gabriella gets to do.

We have a rule in our house that no one is allowed to say, "it's not fair." We just don't say it about anything. Who gets to do something first, who gets what color plate, who has to pick certain toys up. Those three words are not allowed to be spoken in our home.

But I can type it. It's not fair.

These two little girls are so close. They love each other and are dear friends. I wish they could have the same exact things. I wish they could do everything together. I wish everything could be equal and fair.

But it's not. It's not fair at all.