i ♥ babies

I'm baffled by how precious newborns are. I never really caught the vision of babies until I had one of my own. And he is growing TOO FAST. I wondered if I would understand "baby hunger" after I had a baby, and I think despite feeling like I was about to vomit about 90% of the time during pregnancy (the other 10% was a combination of pre-morning-sickness, in ignorant knocked-up bliss, and also actually vomiting), and despite a somewhat horrific birth experience (which even now, a short 7 months later, doesn't seem quite so awful as it did at the time), I might want another someday. Because, well, newborns: aren't they just so sweet? If we have the opportunity to experience being parents of a new baby again, please bless he/she isn't colicky. But even if colic did encroach on Shep's sweet newborn qualities a bit, it was still super neat and so ephemeral.

quince

image from simplyrecipes.com

I bought one of these impulsively at one of the many local Hispanic markets the other day. I wasn't going to act on my interest in the strange fruit, but then Tim said something about me being cool for trying new things. So of course I had to go for it.

I came home and cut into it and took a tentative bite before realizing that it isn't something meant to be eaten raw, which the Internet then confirmed. But it did strike me as similar to an apple, which the Internet also confirmed. (Same genus apparently.) I have yet to eat it properly, but I imagine it will be good. It smells nice.

Anybody ever had quince?

lemon

Yesterday I gave Shep a lemon wedge to suck on just to see what would happen and he seemed pretty into it.

This kid is totally my child, and I didn't know it before that moment. Do you remember how my host family in Russia was really cute and put a little plate of lemon wedges out for me at meals because they knew I liked lemons? That was cute of them.

I'm going to interrupt my blogging now to go make some lemonade.

P.S. Thanks for your responses to my post about sleep issues. I was nervous about posting that because I've struggled in the past to express myself honestly without being a source of frustration. It's like, I think I'm just sharing when I'm actually being annoying. Oops. So I was a bit hesitant to open up on the blog, but it seemed to go okay. Thank you.

sleep problems

Shepherd hasn't been sleeping too well. Thus, I haven't been sleeping too well. He has never slept awesome, but I was okay with the things were going for the most part. Recently, I was reading a book a friend of mine gave me as a baby gift called Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, specifically a part about colic and sleep. When we were going through that stage, I didn't think that Shepherd was that colicky, mostly because his bouts of crying usually didn't last huge periods of time. I think looking back, though, he was more colicky than I was willing to admit. The only reason that his bouts of crying didn't last forever was because we were constantly trying new things to calm him down whenever he was upset. Also, I didn't want to label him as a colicky baby because I felt like he was perfectly healthy (he didn't seem to have any problems with his stomach, which many people say causes colic), and I was afraid about what that said of me as a mother. I always felt a little responsible for his apparent unhappiness and my inability to resolve it permanently. But I suppose I have a bit of a different perspective now that we're past that stage. When Weissbluth was describing the difference between normal infant fussiness and extreme infant fussiness/colic, I felt like my baby fit comfortably in that category of "colicky" (especially when it comes to the sleep problems). Now that he's a bit happier, I feel a little less responsibility labeling him that way.

I see now, also, that many of Shepherd's sleep behaviors are a direct result of my response to his colicky behavior. As I said, we were constantly trying to calm him, and we were constantly trying to get him to sleep. His fussiness almost always indicated tiredness and overstimulation. One of the things that worked more reliably was nursing. Thus I became the mother that nurses more than anybody I know, and Shep became the baby who would only fall asleep if he nursed down. During the day he would only nap for short periods of time, but at night he seemed to sleep better. It was actually working fairly well to nurse him to sleep and have him in the bed with us. Except for a brief phase when he was waking up like every 45 minutes, it seemed to maximize the amount of sleep he got, and the amount everyone got. He grew out of that phase on his own and went back to how things were before that phase, waking up 3 or 4 times a night and not fully waking, even, to nurse, and then quickly falling back to sleep.

I have no idea why, but the last week or so he's been going through another phase: he refuses to nurse back to sleep easily when he wakes up during the night, and I keep having to switch sides to get him to nurse again. I wish I could understand it. Like the phase he went through before where he was having issues, I'm revisiting the idea of sleep training. To be honest, I've avoided reading much about it because I know I'll feel like I'm doing things wrong if I read too much. I think a lot of the recommendations, with sleep or anything else, depend so much on your individual baby. Even before Shep became colicky, he wasn't really great at sleeping. He's never been one to self-soothe, nor is he usually happy or comfortable by himself for long. I've really struggled to know what will work for him to teach him to sleep better on his own, because I don't think crying it out will teach him anything but resentment for his mother (me), who for some odd and inexplicable reason is suddenly no longer responding to his needs. Based on what I know of him, he would just become increasingly more angry and ragged and he would refuse to be comforted by anything but suckling at the breast. It seems to me that people who've had success with just leaving their baby to cry might have babies who eventually stop crying? Not sure. Other more compassionate methods of sleep training seem to take a lot of time and effort, and I honestly felt like I'd lose more sleep trying to go through that process than just maintaining the status quo. I don't exactly have the most free schedule, either, because while I have a lot of flexibility and free time at work, I still am at least in theory working from 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day.

The fact that nursing is not working so well to put him to sleep lately has kind of thrown me for a loop, though, since it was the main method. I think he might be ready to start sleeping on his own--as he grows, he's becoming increasingly picky about the environment once he's asleep, and when and where he will fall asleep. I think he is getting a little old for the co-sleeper, so I finally broke down and ordered a crib. (I thought we'd be fine going without before.) I think we're going to try putting him in it once he's asleep and gradually do it more and more until he learns to sleep there on his own.

I'm a little worried it won't go well but this current phase doesn't seem to be letting up and I'm not sure what else to do. This morning, he was getting increasingly agitated and I kept trying to nurse him to sleep, which normally works somewhat well. He wasn't having any of it, so I figured if he was already crying I might try to start the sleep training now for a nap. I finally got him asleep through a combination of distraction, rocking/walking, nursing, and then I extracted myself from his side and left the room and closed the door.

He woke up sobbing not five minutes later.

obsessed

At the risk of being prosecuted as a pirate, I'm going to admit that we have been watching Downton Abbey series (season) 3, which is not yet available State-side via PBS. I was going to wait until January like the rest of America, but then somehow things got desperate and the Internet does have its ways of delivering all our favorite British sitcoms.

We just watched episode 5, which is the latest episode aired, and let me just warn you now: if you haven't seen it yet, do not search Google about it because something big happens and the big thing will be spoiled by the stupid bloggers if you go there. Run-on sentence, deep breath.

I'm not generally a TV watcher. We don't own a TV and are growing increasingly apathetic toward the shows we formerly enjoyed. Watching TV and movies is kind of hard with our baby, too. But Downton Abbey is an exception. Ignore the baby's demands for attention, I have eyes only for the computer screen! We watched almost the entire second season in one go, and half of the third in another. It felt disgustingly good. Disgusting because it was excessive and we were putting off necessary things, but good because that show is just quality TV. I don't mean to pepper my response to watching this show with Britishisms; I think it is just happening by itself a bit. Cheerio, moving on.

The point is: we are/I am a little obsessed after watching that last show. It doesn't help that something big happens and then the episode ends without much resolution or aftermath. I wish you all had watched it so we could discuss and commiserate. I guess that's what I get for being a pirate. I feel like a soap opera addict or something. I had dreams about it after watching that episode. Weird, right? Who dreams about people from TV who are not actually real? Me, apparently. Then I couldn't stop thinking about it next day. I haven't thought about it as much since then, but it springs to mind on occasion.

I think some intervention is needed here. Or maybe I just need to watch the next episode. First world problems, right?

life without internet

My life is so internet-dependent these days.

And I'm making a choice right now to not capitalize the word internet, I hope that is okay with you, Chicago. Sometimes I talk to Chicago in my head, and what is Chicago, anyway? Chicago is the god of words and how they should be used, or the god of editing. The orange-turned-blue bible.

That was a tangent.

We moved over the weekend. It all happened rather fast and I have some residual stress about it all that I can't shake exactly even though it's really quieter here. One of the more hectic aspects of the move was the forced vacation time that I don't have available but have taken anyway because we thought there was already internet (I almost capitalized it that time! Argh!) but really there wasn't.

In days bygone this would've meant I'd go somewhere else to work, but where can I take a baby these days and hang out and have a bed to lie down with him so he can nap? Answer: Nowhere. No working for me. P.S. New development: I have laid him (lain him? Can't remember. Chicago?) down on the bed and he has stayed asleep like three times recently! This happened.

I kept thinking in my internet-less time that I was going to do X, Y, Z when I got the internet. Like "When I get the internet, Imma do this," you know? But instead here I am being distracted and feeling like I'd like to take a nap. This is the way the internet works, folks. Why does my life have to depend on it?

The internet is awesome in some ways though. The other day I went to John's Marketplace which is this random grocery store we live close to now. I went there because I sometimes love grocery stores and also because Tim was going to die or kill or something bad if I couldn't get him ice cream. I decided while I was there that I'm not going to go back unless I'm somehow aware of a good sale occurring therein, but the point is that while I was there I heard this song that I think I've heard before and I wanted to know what it was called and who wrote it and such. If I'd had internet in that moment, that burning desire to know might have been satisfied. But alas, I can't remember the lyrics well enough to ask Google now. Something like "I wrote you this letter just to tell you I'm alright." I don't know, probably some dumb breakup song. Who cares about songs like that these days? I'm married now and I'm not gonna break up with nobody. (Sorry, Chicago.)

odd dreams

Last night I remember dreaming about this thing I saw on Pinterest to clean cookie sheets with tea tree oil. In my dream it worked really well. I haven't tried it in real life.

I also dreamed I was giving birth to my little guy again but this time he was a twin with a baby sister who followed him after. I haven't tried that in real life either.

mango

I cut up three ripe mangoes last night and refrigerated them and now I'm eating them and it reminds me of that one time I went on a road trip and got one of those Costco bags of dried mangoes and ate like the whole thing in like ten hours and like I couldn't stop eating them mangoes and now I feel like I can't stop eating these mangoes.

hooray to self

I'm finally starting to fit in pre-pregnancy jeans. I was thinking about it the other day, and I gained 40 pounds in 3.5 months at the end of my pregnancy. Now, 3.5 months post-partum, I've lost 40 or more. It makes me want to say something pithy and proud, like "Hey guys, check out my new weight-loss program! It's called having a baby!" In terms of weight loss in the usual sense, I suppose this is cheating, though. Also, I can't lie to myself and pretend I'm the bee's knees, physically. I'm egregiously unfit right now, weight loss aside.

But in case you wanted to know, other pithy sayings that describe my life currently might include, "My new perfume is called spit up, a.k.a. baby vomit." Gross, right? Generally it doesn't stain, though. And my philosophy about laundry has always been this: if it ain't stained, I ain't gonna wash it.

blog edit

Wouldn't it be so rude if I went around the Internet and left comments on blogs and articles and such only to point out minor grammatical mistakes? So rude. Everyone would think I was such a hater. Experience in editing has taught me the importance of being nice when offering criticism and correction. I think I'm a little better about that than I used to be, but it's still kind of tough. Criticism and correction can seem so JUDGMENTAL.

So instead, I'll just leave comments like: 'I think you meant "fewer" not "less," but I still like your blog post!' 

Actually, scratch that. No comment.

watched: Under African Skies

We took the little man to an outdoor film at Red Butte Garden last night. I was a little nervous that he'd start screaming and there would be no quick escape, and I hate being in public when he is screaming. Unwanted attention to the max. Last week he was doing just that, screaming, and I took him for a walk outside because that seems to help him fall asleep sometimes. A woman from India who lives in a neighboring building stopped me to ask about him. Her curiosity was friendly and intended to be helpful, but I suppose it seemed ill-timed. Trying to hear her over the wailing and respond to her queries about what was wrong with my child (I think he's tired! Maybe gassy! I don't know!) proved somewhat frustrating. She said she heard him screaming at several points throughout that day (?). I thanked her for her concern, which I both did and didn't appreciate, and kept walking. He kept crying and then we were both crying because I wondered what was wrong with him, too, and what was wrong with me as a mother. Then I met Tim on my way back as he was taking out the trash and cried some more to him.

I digress. The point of that story was really just to say that sometimes I find it stressful to be around other people when my baby is distressed. Also, to point out how on display I've made myself recently. (Guess I've never had a problem in the oversharing department.) So an outdoor movie seemed like a risky move. But the baby did wonderfully well. He was contentedly awake near the beginning, then slept through the remainder. What a pleasant surprise.

When I wasn't worrying about whether the baby would start crying at any moment (smart), I was paying attention to the documentary. Overall it was interesting, focusing on Paul Simon's collaboration with black South Africans under Apartheid at a time when there was a U.N. Cultural Boycott. I love the Graceland album. Apparently so does Oprah Winfrey (she and Whoopi Goldberg appeared in the film to talk it up, which seemed kind of irrelevant--black celebrities talking about black people making music?). And apparently everyone loves Paul Simon and it was okay for him to ignore the cultural boycott in order to work his mad artistic genius and thereby provide some amazing opportunities to a few black South African musicians. I am not sure I agree with the slant of the film, but it was an interesting watch because I was completely unaware of the controversy involved with the creation of this music.

Here's a YouTube video of a concert performance of "Homeless" by Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mumbazo:

baby change

The first day or so after delivering Shepherd, I thought I was in for an easy ride because he was super mellow and hardly ever cried. He's almost six weeks old now, and he's kind of colicky and doesn't seem to sleep much. Actually, he's never been a champ sleeper. I get comments sometimes about how awake and alert he seems. I say a little too awake and alert, because "they" say babies shouldn't be up for six hours straight or something.

This picture is from a while ago and I can't believe how much he's grown already. Seriously, though, close your eyes!

Sometimes people ask me about him and I wonder what to say because I've never done this baby thing and don't know what they're like. I feel like I can't comment on his individualness because I have no baseline from which to compare. I assume everything he does is just a product of being a newborn. But then I hear other parents say that their baby doesn't scream every time they put him/her down (Shep wants to be held constantly, apparently), or that they only have to wake up once or twice during the night for feedings, and I think maybe this kid has quite his own little character. I really am looking forward to seeing what he's like as he grows. This blog post maybe sounds complainy, which I don't exactly intend, because I'm really loving this kid and being his mom. But I admit I feel that I should be able to do more when he's crying pretty constantly, as he sometimes does. Like right now.

baby breath

I have been wondering: why is it that my baby's breath isn't rotten after not brushing for a mere 24 hours like mine is? Not that I want to add teeth brushing into our routine or anything, but I'm just curious. Lack of teeth? Homogeneous diet?

that was a good story

Today I was changing little man's diaper and he started peeing. He seems to like to do that once the diaper comes off. I was impressed by the height of the arc so I moved my wrist, which was partially blocking the stream, to witness the truly remarkable trajectory. Then I realized he was getting pee all over the couch so I put my wrist back in the line of fire and successfully blocked the rest and saved that couch's  (fabric) hide.

getting there

My body is returning to its pre-pregnancy in most respects slowly but surely. My attitude toward food resembles how it was, which is a relief. I no longer find sweets very interesting. Drinking milk (I feel like I need to say cow's milk here because there's a different kind of milk that I'm dealing heavily with these days) is less desirable. Potatoes are just decent and not the stuff of my dreams. Tortilla chips with melted cheese (a.k.a. nachos) are no longer my daily companion. I'm getting reacquainted with hunger pains, which mainly took the form of nausea in my pregnant body, and I'm getting back into drinking water because I like it and not because I am forcing myself to hydrate.

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two weeks since I birthed a human child. Life is totally different right now and I feel like I have a long way to go until I can get back to doing things like cleaning, cooking, running errands, working, etc. I keep thinking of people who do this whole having a baby thing with a young'un already in tow and wonder how that's logistically possible. I'm pretty immobilized. The baby sleeps a lot and I try to sleep sometimes when he's sleeping too. When he is awake, he spends a lot of time nursing. He proves the adage that babies tend to do not much more than sleep, eat, and poop or pee. As his mother (I'm a parent?!), I'm doing much of the same for now.

Tim wrote about his birth story, which is posted on the married blog with some pictures: http://timandarowan.blogspot.com/

I could say a lot more about his birth, but maybe the blog isn't the best venue. It's all been pretty unreal and I'm coming to terms. It's amazing, though. I like to remember the moment when he first came out and the first few hours afterward, especially in the midst of some mild baby blues. I fell in love pretty hard right then.

d-day

40 weeks and counting . . . funny, I don't feel huge. Well, not huger, anyway. I feel like my belly hasn't changed for weeks. But then I see pictures like this one or step on the scale (it's official, I have now surpassed 50 pounds), and I realize I'm being deceived.

Due dates are mostly meaningless, but I feel mine (today!) deserves a commemorative blog post. And maybe the kid will decide to show himself sometime this week! Here's to you, kid. We promise to give you a real name someday.

whale

blimp

Sometimes when I go to the doctor and step on the weighing device otherwise known as a scale, I'm kind of shocked. Really? I never imagined I would weigh this much. Not that I considered it much. I mostly ignored the existence of scales. But going to the doctor with unheard of frequency changes things, I guess. At my early prenatal visits, I was asked how much weight I'd like to gain. That was a hard question for me to answer. Do I get to determine that? The "books" say 25-35 pounds of weight gain is healthy for someone who has an average pre-pregnancy weight. So I said I'd like to stick within that range.

After some initial weight loss (go figure) I'm nearing 50 pounds according to my last scuffle with a scale. You'd think I was some sort of emaciated cadaver pre-pregnancy. (By the way, it took me too long to remember the word emaciated. I almost wrote inebriated but then I stopped myself.)

Meh, what do I care? I don't trust scales anyway.

nice song

pillows

I made some pillows! I haven't sewn anything since junior high probably, to my mother's dismay. But recently, our stake had a sewing class, so I decided to participate and make my mom proud. Now I kind of know how to use a sewing machine! And this probably makes me a legitimate blogger, too.

the best part of my day

Yumtastic.

getting out

Lately whenever I drive anywhere, I always think of a million places to go while I'm out because, let's face it, I don't get out and drive anywhere all that often and it seems efficient to consolidate tasks. When I leave the house, I usually do the first thing I left to do, and then I come home as soon as possible. Sometimes I don't even make it that far.

I'm sorry, WinCo, I miss you too.

Normally today would be the last day of February

But today is the the second-to-last day of February this year because it's a leap year, which last happened in 2008, I'm told. Do you know where I was on Leap Day in February 2008? Me either.

I feel like Leap Day should be a huger deal than any holiday because of its relative rarity. Something that happens only once every four years has to be cooler than something that happens annually. I mean, really. I'm not sure what I would be celebrating if I did celebrate Leap Day, but I feel a lot of holidays are arbitrary, so that's not a reason to stop anyone. I should have been planning what to do tomorrow for the last four years in order to commemorate it. Unfortunately I've got nothing.

But nothing seems pretty appropriate, doesn't it, because normally this day doesn't exist? Time is weird; it's weird to think of time as a construct and not a constant. Who came up with the units we have that don't quite work with how long the sun takes to get around? Probably someone smarter than me, but still. The section about the Gregorian calendar on Wikipedia's "Leap Year" article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leap_year#Gregorian_calendar) is kind of confusing. In 8000 years, we may or may not be a whole day off. What does that mean? It sounds like an existential crisis waiting to happen.

Also, it's weird to think about how time changes when you travel, right? Also traveling takes time. I need to stop thinking about this.

I've been feeling a little sensitive lately (probably attributable to hormones). A while back, we saw a blind man using a cane to find his way to Great Harvest Bread. I was amazed that he could get anywhere. Our car was in the parking lot and he bumped it with his cane and then averted it. We watched him fumble for a while when his cane hit the curb at the head of the parking space next to us. He eventually figured it out and stepped over it, continuing on his way. Then a woman came up and asked him if he was going to Great Harvest and offered her assistance. He accepted her offer gratefully. When he spoke to the woman who offered her arm to him, his voice seemed to indicate some mild disability.

Describing the experience makes me feel like we were observing him for much longer than we actually were. All of this happened in a few short moments as we were getting in our car and leaving the parking lot. It made me sad, though. I guess I just keep thinking about the little person we're bringing to our family, and I want so much for him to have the best chance at life and happiness, whatever that means. Even though I think it's important for us all to experience and overcome difficult things in our own lives, I want to protect him from any disadvantage, any meanness, any unfairness in the world, any confusing unanswered questions. I'm not sure what he's going to have to face outside of our home, but I hope that in spite of how badly I fail at expressing it, despite my own inability to explain the world, that he will always be confident in my love.

the ring to rule them all

I've been wearing a ring on my left-hand ring finger for the past three years straight, plus a little. I took it off recently because my finger is too fat and it doesn't fit anymore (dash pregnancy swelling?). Three days of no ring-wearing after three years of constant ring-wearing feels pretty weird. So I guess what I'm trying to say is this: Happy Valentine's Day.

I can't figure out how to work Lord of the Rings into this situation more fully. Any clever ideas?

more Rancho love

1 bunch cilantro	$0.17
3 red bell peppers	$1.01
3 yellow bell peppers	$0.97
2 limes	$0.30
1 cucumber	$0.33
9.48 lbs navel oranges	$1.17
3.48 lbs fuji apples	$1.72
total bill	$5.84

I am a big fan of produce prices at Rancho Markets.

29-ish weeks

Does anyone remember when my belly didn't look like this?

Me either.

I just got back from spending my morning at the nearby health clinic. After not having eaten for about 18 hours, having been pricked with a needle 5 times, and sitting in a waiting room for 3 hours, I'm just happy to be home nomming on Great Harvest's honey whole wheat bread. Nom nom.

The reason I was doing all of these things (fasting, getting blood drawn, sitting around at the health clinic) was because I failed my glucose test, which is a standard screen for gestational diabetes that they do around 24 to 28 weeks gestation.

Failing the first test means you have to go back and do another, more intense test. One which requires you to fast, get your blood drawn, drink an even grosser glucose drink (which is too bad, because if you're consuming a lot of sugar, it should at least taste really good, in my opinion), then get your blood drawn again, and again, and again. Three more times every hour.

I don't know if you were paying attention to the math, but if you were, you might be wondering why,  if I only had to get my blood drawn four times, did I have five needle pricks in my arm? Well, that's because I was shooting up drugs one of those times. Just kidding. Or am I? Actually, my veins are small, so one of the attempts to draw blood was unsuccessful. 

I guess my take-home message is to reduce my sugar intake because my body is not handling it super well. Regardless of whether my insulin resistance is at diabetic levels, I can say that my pregnant self has much more of a sweet tooth than my non-pregnant self, which has resulted in considerable sugary food intake on my part (and Tim's). Apparently that's not healthy. For some reason, the only things that sound appetizing whatsoever these days are ice cream, cinnamon rolls, and cookies. But on the bright side, we have this food group ("sweets"?) to thank for my weight gain. A couple of months ago, I wasn't doing well at gaining the right amount of weight (my midwife told me to eat more). But last week my weight gain looked good. I chalk it up to the cookies. Nom nom.

The other take-home message, I suppose, is don't do drugs.

how to chop an onion, or the greatest regret of my life

Once upon a time I went to culinary arts school. Tuition at the DATC (Davis Applied Technology College) was free for high school juniors and seniors in our district. I started the culinary arts program the summer after my junior year. Unfortunately, I had too many schedule conflicts that summer to keep up the course, so I ended up quitting after a few weeks.

The first few weeks were all about food safety and regulations. You had to pass that part before you could actually start working in the kitchen. Once I was qualified for work in the kitchen, I learned a neat way to chop onions. Shortly thereafter, I quit cooking school, which is possibly the greatest regret of my life.

I chop a lot of onions to this day. Usually I do it like this (the special way I learned when I went to cooking school):

the day I got two haircuts

I struggle with my hair sometimes. I would like for my hair to look nice, but I don't like to spend money. But in order for my hair to look nice, I need to get it cut sometimes. Also, I'm pretty sure it looks better when I have some highlights in it. I do that on occasion, as well. Generally about twice a year, perhaps.

Because I'm cheap, I generally go to places like hair schools and Great Clips for my hair needs. Anyone who knows and cares about their hair will probably tell you this is quite often a bad idea. Maybe if I knew a really great stylist already, I'd be more resistant to the voices of low prices that call out to me, but I generally succumb to their siren calls. About a week ago, I went to this place called Sexy Hair that was advertising $7.50 cuts. I went there with dirty hair because I was expecting a shampoo and style. Despite my suspicions, I didn't realize at first how bad the cut really was since spray-bottle cuts tend to result in ugliness no matter what (for me).

I got home and felt too tired to worry about my hair, so I took a nap.  Then it was time to really evaluate the damage. After showering and styling my locks, I was nearly in tears and felt desperate measures were needed. I had asked for a trim and received a butcher job like some worthless piece of meat. So to Great Clips I dashed, and now my hair situation is somewhat manageable, though not ideal.

In my heart, I wish that hair wouldn't grow or that we were all born completely bald, but I guess I've learned a lesson: when you're cheap, sometimes you get what you pay for. Whether this will stop me from frequenting second-hand stores and Great Clips-esque hair-cutting institutions is another matter.

another embarrassing moment brought to you by a younger Amanda

Remember tear-away pants? 

I used to have a pair. I also used to be in a dance class. Once, I wore my tear-away pants to my dance lesson. Supposedly, it was standard practice with these pants to wear shorts underneath. As a harmless joke, a fellow dance classmate decided to tear away my pants. The joke wasn't as harmless as it could have been, though, because instead of revealing shorts, she revealed my underwear. Just to be safe, I might have never worn these pants again.

2012

I've seen the words "May 2012 . . . " a couple of times so far, and every time I do, I read it as the month of May, not the verb (as it is used). It's tripping me up.

May 2012 bring you and yours the best!