Weblog of MO

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I took vitamins, I slept, I ate, I drank, I didn't drink, I exercized, I wept.  I consumed snake oil.  When it comes to hair growth, time is your friend.    My hair grew at the exact rate of one half inch per month. 

January 25

Some people don't like to be alone in their impatience.

In a thoughtless gesture of kindness, I went out today and bought two finches for the children. It's been on my to-do list (meaning the girls have been hounding me relentlessly for weeks) and I figured now would be a good time to create some excitement, fill the void while waiting for my hair to grow. I brought home the two lovely finches and set them on a side-table in the dining room.

This sent our two hunting dogs into a hysterical panic. Pleas of "leave it" only redirected their attentions momentarily and have resulted in a honing of their prey-drive to an intensity I've never before witnessed.

I must say this behavior is not entirely unforseen. When walking on the beach, our youngest dog Dori (aptly named after the Finding Nemo character, due to some unfortunate similarities in her behavioral characteristics) is unable to allow any bird to remain seated or otherwise in contact with the beach within about a 300 yard radius of us.

The surprising element was 'Lookout', the dog we purchased specifically for hunting, who has not shown the slightest bit of interest in anything that becomes airborne (other than house flies) is now miraculously ready to kill something. For the past two hours he has been vigilantly staring up at the cage, as if waiting to see if one of the birds will slip up and accidentally fly into his mouth.

So now we are all waiting for something. Although our goals are different, we are united in the common experience of frustration, and that bonds us together somehow on our journey. That is if we all survive it.

Mood: Mischievious

I don't know how they got in, but one must have because the morning of St. Patrick's day, everyone in the house woke up with GREEN hair.  Now, being a stay at home mom, I wasn't phased much because nobody really cares what I look like.  But my husband, who highly values what little hair he has left, and had a "MEETING" that morning, was NOT so relaxed about the whole thing.  I keep trying to get him to have a little fun, but it's all work, work, work, and unfortunatly he was able to wash it out & looked human when he left the house at 7.

     The children, who never actually bathe except for an occasional visit to the swimming pool, were forced to go to school and explain to the rigid parochial administration that there was a fault in our home security system and that today, they HAD to break the dress code.  Backed into a corner (I knew the administration had gleefully ransacked the first 3 grades all in the name of the Irish) the principal gave me the evil eye and shuffled the girls through the side door.  

   A similar fate had befallen the pre-school and the 3/4 year olds were met with tiny footprints on all the windows, toilet paper everywhere, golden flowers, toppled tables and chairs, all liquids (milk, toilet water, the turtle's water) turned green, as well as the chicken's feathers (please don't call the SPCA).  I stayed to work at school for my 'work day' and we partied leprechaun-style and fit right in with the melee.

     So, I may have an inch of hair growth, slower than I would have hoped by now but I'm having FUN with it! 

    I spent the day in the ER.  It has been 'spring break' for the past 2 weeks & during that time we've had our house appraised and visited Texas.  In addition to whipping the house and garden into pristine condition, I *(as is my custom) laundered everything in the house and flew there and back solo with 3 chidren and got minimal sleep.  I have had a migraine since last Saturday that I've shotgunned with every OTC available to get me through each day. 

   This morning I couldn't take it anymore. Convinced I had a brain tumor, or aneurism, or some other impending tragedy, I called the babysitting/friend circuit and could not find a soul in town able to handle the troops- so we all went in.  We were whisked through the system in a mere 4 hours only to be told- TADA- I have a migraine.  I was going for the full body scan but they offered me Fioricet...I said I can't drive on that stuff...so they said I should take it tonight, to give myself a break.   I guess I might get a night off after all.

Mood: Uplifted
Listening to: The hum of my server (again)

February 11
I could hear the alarm clock ringing down the hall, and hustled to preserve a few minutes of morning solitude. Rounding the corner I saw my 3 year old slide to the floor, cross the room, slap the snooze button and climb back into bed. I waited for my thoughts to process. At first I was gently amused he'd inherited my tendency to doze (perhaps to excess). The next thought- that no child should be aware of a SNOOZE button at all- left me pondering.

I have always been a big sleeper, pulling 12 hour stretches if given the opportunity. It was a way to avoid things I didn't want to think about, or do- and slipping back into REM won out often over faciing the day. Margaritas came in a close second. These days, I've forsaken the booze and am left with little else to supress the stark realities.

In the hair department waking up has taken on a new meaning. Where the pillow once had gently mussed my hair leaving it pleasantly tossled in the morning, it now swirls and batters it upwards to the point I've taken to keeping a ball cap on my nightstand. I still reach to pull out my ponytail before hitting the pillow at night, a sad reminder of what I feel I've lost. The next morning in a fog I've forgotten and find myself reaching to straighten my hair a bit and experiencing the sadness all over again. "Oh yeah".

In my own little world it is a crisis, one brought on by my impulses- an affliction I've lived with as if they were something external. I'm sure that it is similar to the experience of those who awake after 'real' losses, realizing as if all over again that something they loved is gone, or has changed and it wasn't just a dream. Whether it is their own body, a parent, son, home, or country that has been shaken, we open our eyes to a new day that is always different. I'm grateful for the insignificance of my tragedies and thank God for all I do have, even if (as the photo shows) it is only a half inch of hair growth.

As for my 3 year old, if I can ease him into to being aware of the world around his own, maybe he will have no need to hit the snooze button before facing the dawn. One can only hope.