getting ready

When I was pregnant, I was really careful not to purchase any cute maternity clothes (at the end I bought a couple out of desperation). The miser thought going through my head was: "suffer now, then when baby comes, I'll lose weight, and have money to buy cute clothes and get my hair done." Little did I know, that once baby came, I would be constantly vomited on, I would need easy access to my breasts (at all times), my hair would be ripped out, earrings (= ears) would be pulled (and attempted to be ripped out), and any other jewelry would be subject to torture. To put it simply clothes would be difficult (and so would hair. I now understand why so many moms cut there hair during their babies first year).

So here I am nearing a year after the birth of my  first child, with no new clothes, hair color: dishwater blonde (yep. that's my true color. now you know why I prefer highlighting it :) , and time to get ready is scarce (I'm still trying to figure out how moms with multiple children do it): I'm one of those moms who suffers from extreme guilt. I feel guilty if I do anything else besides play with and entertain my son, when he is awake (thank goodness he is such a good sleeper). And I know that is a bad thing (come on readers, I read "Baby Wise" :) so I try my hardest to be okay with doing other things, but then I just feel bad (being a mom really is one of the  hardest jobs). So in my attempt to do other things while Rivers is awake I have made it a goal to have the kitchen cleaned up after breakfast, beds made, Rivers ready, and me ready before nap time (the "me ready" has been the biggest challenge of all, but today I succeeded! . . . .with a little help from a professional):

When Ben and I were first married, and he realized that I used curlers on a regular basis, he would repeatedly tell me, that he thinks I'm the only one left in America (okay the only one under 45 left in America) who sill used curlers to do my hair. I told him, just because his mom and his sister don't use them (I mean honestly, how many other girls has he been around long enough to see how they do their hair?), doesn't mean I'm the only one who still does my hair with curlers. 

Curlers use to be, hmmmm, maybe once a week thing, the rest of the time I would straighten it. Now it's an almost everyday thing. Why? Because all I have to do is roll them in, and then they cook while I do my make up. It's like having an extra pair of hands. Hence getting ready is shortened by easily 10 minutes. Anyways, so there, it's out. I am officially a curler girl. Even if I am the last 25 year old curler girl left in America, I am a curler girl (I also, enjoy wearing aprons, I love aprons . . .  I think curlers and aprons combined determines that I really do belong in 50's).  

Anyways. . . . Rivers is entranced by my curlers. While I attempt to give him some personal play time I rush to roll my hair up with curlers, then I bring my make-up bag into little man's room, sit down on his floor and proceed to paint my face. Why in his room? Well, first of all, the obvious, I want to spend time with him (and this is my way to try and get things done while still playing peek-a-boo and tag). Second of all, if you came to my house, my second reason would be very obvious, the lighting. There is this florescent light in my dark bathroom. And florescent light just makes me feel bad about myself. That bathroom has always reminded me of a mix between the dormitory at BYU-H (mostly because of the disgusting pinkish purple color that covers the cabinets and counter tops, and BYU-H readers know what I'm talking about. It's so bad.) and the Canal house (the house I lived in for three years in Hawaii: A miniature, very disgusting bathroom, that I shared with 4 other girls - 5 in total. But that bathroom I loved, because of one, my roommates were awesome, so it was easy to share, and two, it was covered in sand. . . . yes, sand - the beach was literally outside our backdoor. Honestly, who would really complain about a bathroom when a secluded beach was outside your backdoor?) Anyways, the florescent lighting stinks, so I bring my make-up into Rivers room, and I do my make-up while he plays with his toys.

Well, he plays with his toys, until I walk in with a head full of plastic curlers wrapped up in my hair. Now that is something worth playing with. Not two seconds after I sit down to begin painting, (in front of his slobbered on mirror) do I have a little boy climbing up my shoulder, studying my head, and slowly pulling out one curler at a time, (which he proceeds to examine it and then eat). By the time my make-up is complete I don't even need to do the last step to "getting ready" because Rivers has successfully removed every one of my curlers and I am ready for the day! Wow am I glad I have that little dude around! 

Job complete! Thanks Mr. Rivers!