The Secret to Beautiful Summer Hair

For those of you in my Day Late Dollar Short club, this week is the week we're getting to our End of School Year to-do lists. Yeah, the rest of the world got to it weeks ago, I know, but we are still in the month of June, so we're good.

As we reach in and tackle those 9-month-long neglected innards of our kids' backpacks, it's not all put your hand in and pull out a green tangerine that your fingers sunk into. There are treasures within those zippered compartments, to be sure.

Treasures like what I found this morning. My backpack haul grew into my Everything I Need To Be Beautiful this summer trove. Not really, but at least Everything I Need To Keep My Hair From Having Its Own Zip Code.

Want to know the secret to summer hair kept tame and free from interfering with your field of vision? Look no further than what you'll find inside your childrens' backpacks.

Here are the Top 5 Hair-Busters that with along with a little Frizz-Ease, came to my rescue:

Shown: The long-forgotten scarf my child took to school in November for a Titanic re-enactment project where he was the Ship Medic and needed bandages. 

Shown: Rainbow Loom wristband slash most awesome ponytail holder for thickest hair imaginable in a Milwaukee summer humidity wave.

Shown: From when son called 1984 and asked for his mom's scrunchy bands back.

Shown: Rubber bands from the secret inside zipper pocket behind the pencil case flap. Why did he need so many? He doesn't want to tell me. But I was in grade school once and I know what a rubber band shooting ammunition cache for the 7th grade looks like.

Shown: Drybar hair courtesy of the school auction gift certificate for the February event that was never turned in for the February event but which was found crushed at the bottom of the backpack and nevertheless had to be used before the expiration date of July 6, 2016.

Happy summer everyone. I wish you hair resourcefulness and smart backpacking unpacking. May the gods of hair hacks smile upon you. 

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I Can Tell A Story With a Little Help From My Friends/Kids/Same Thing

Me: "I had a dream last night that that one singer, Justin Bieber? No ... the other one ... the one that I like ... but not Justin Bieber, but Justin for sure..."

Them: "Justin Timberlake, Mom."

Me: "Yes! Yes yes. Justin Timberlake. Anyway, Justin Timberlake was breaking and entering into a theater - and I could tell it surprised me in my dream, because in my dream I thought That's not like him but I didn't say it, but knew I thought it. So, Justin is breaking his way into the theater to see that one movie I liked ... Hot Mess? Hot Ones?? It started Hot Something ..."
  

Them: "Heat, Mom."
  

Me: "Right. Heat. Heat. That was it. Well, they were selling Girl Scout cookies there at the theater while he was breaking in, but they had other kinds of cookies on the table too - not just Girl Scout. Like there was a basket already opened of my favorite ones ... the thin crisp ones. With the cranberries. Crisps? Crunchers? Cranberry Crunchers?"
 

Them: "Mom, Cranberry Crisps."
 

Me: "Those are the ones! Cranberry Crisps! So, Justin Bieber, I mean Timberlake, gets the cookies somehow, he has them in his hands, still in the basket, and he HIDES them like a little kid underneath a big car. One of those big cars ... you know like the one we saw the other day that your dad liked. But I think they're too boxy. What was that car called?"

 

Them: "Lincoln Navigator."

 

Me: "Ugh. Yes. That big box of a car. Anyway ..."

 

Them: "Mom, does this dream have an ending?"

 

Me: "Well, that's the funny thing. It almost did, see, it was just like that one series we were watching two summers ago. Remember? When we had Hulu for free? It was - what was that series called? That science fiction one that we all liked ..."

 

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The Things That Take Time

This Sunday was beautiful, sunlight was finally coming in through the house windows and there was a moment early this morning when all that was missing as I made breakfast was a bluebird chirping on my shoulder. Hearth and home, plenty to eat, we had it all. With a day that promised long-awaited rest, I pierced it with a sharp needle of haggard and nagging words, "No cinnamon rolls until all the laundry is put away!"

Even before the last s in the word rolls left my lips, I knew it was the dart that would pop the happy balloon of the moment. Why, Alexandra, why? Really? Threats with food? Why was it much too often this desperate take it all away from them cry to action? Do you know of no other way?

In those seconds of gut punching clarity I knew I had to find a kinder, smarter way to ask for what I needed from everyone in this home. Discipline methods that begin with "Here's what you're going to lose if you don't xxx!" are guaranteed heart breakers. My kids love fresh, warm cinnamon rolls, they mean Sunday mornings and introduce a day when we can forget about the work that Monday will bring. As for my threats and promises later that day of a future that does not include screen time, they feel just as half-assed and knee-jerk as the no cinnamon rolls promise.

If I needed any confirmation on how B.S. my discipline methods with my family had become, it was made sickeningly clear when mid-morning I put my hand up to apologize for my wackadackle ways and in unison I heard the kids side-mouth to one another, "Her hand's up, she is so mad, let's get the laundry done."

Right then, I felt it. The spikes that dug, the weight of the metal, the crown that I had woven for myself of raging power-mad Queen.

All or nothing, now or never, do it do do it. What happened to my deep-breaths-and-count-to-three mantra of patience? When did I lose it? Was it with the third child? Was it with the added hours of work and less hours of fun? Maybe it was the financial strain as children grow up, the pressures of trying to keep up with the people in my life, the need to include time to care for our body as we grow older. Yes to all of that and still, those are excuses.

As their parent, I do have the control to influence the energy and spirit in this house. And I am responsible for the tone that I set when I'm short and abrupt. The deep sighs of exasperation when someone speaks, not allowing my children the respect to finish their sentence, dismissing what they have to say because they're kids -- all of that, it's got to stop.

Children need us, and they need us without ever knowing they do. Parents are a significant influence in the temperament of the home, and that is the part that we forget. When we sell our roles short, and lose the awareness of the impact of our presence, we convince ourselves that we are a p.s. to their lives. We matter, and when we live together, we need to help each other.   

We err, we fall short. I did it today. But I have the chance to start again. And when I screw up tomorrow, I can keep trying something different.

I will never be perfect, and don't strive for that. But I can adjust my heart to become the kind of parent who weaves a crown from their heart. A ring made of tender resilient stems that weathers days that at times threaten to unravel but holds together plaited with gentle words of patience, hope, and determination to bloom in beauty for my children.

 

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Interview about a Mother

This week, families around the country are sharing their inspiring, funny, honest, and heartbreaking stories with Yahoo! Parenting in an effort to spark conversations, a little compassion, and change in the way we think about parenting forever. I loved the interview that Raven Snook did with her daughter about Raven's occupation as a burlesque hostess, her Goth dress, and many tattoos, so I did my own here. If you have a story to share, use the hashtag #NoShameParenting or email YParenting at yahoo dot com.

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As a kid, I dreamed about being someone's mom. I had baby dolls that I would diaper and pour asthma-triggering Johnson's powder over their plastic dimpled bottoms like they were biscuits about to go into the oven. I had plastic baby bottles and would coo and feed and coddle and coo and feed and coddle my imaginary children, then go to sleep for the night, and wake up fresh the next day for another day of pretend mothering. Feed Coddle Coo, I loved the rhythm of it. I wanted to take care of little ones in my life, no matter if they were real or not. When I finally did become pregnant, at an age old enough for my OB-GYN to stamp my medical chart with the red letters AMA, and not because they were part of the American Medical Association, I walked on air and patted the kidney bean in my womb for nine months straight. 

 

I had big dreams about motherhood. At the head of it all, even more than wanting to nurture and feedcoocoddle, was how I knew I would be a cool mom. Without a doubt, I would listen to my children, I would possess a bottomless well of patience and wisdom, and they would never be embarrassed about who their mother was.

 

Now that I am a mother, it's time to check the status of that dream of mine. So I did an interview with my youngest, based on the awesome piece by Raven Snook I mentioned above. My life pales compared to hers--that of a one woman burlesque show, but still, I thought my children would answer my interview questions with shouts resounding enough to knock the cedar shingles off the roof . YOU ROCK, MOM! they would yell. Not quite so, as evidenced below: 

1.) When I was a kid, my mom embarrassed me. She was so different from the other moms. I just wanted to blend in and she was having nothing doing with the Sally Homemaker in the Midwest. She was Colombian and loved it. She wore red lipstick when other moms wore pink. She wore gold hoops when other moms had gold studs. She had curls of Ava Gardner hair--don't ask, she's an actress from the stone age you don't know her. What about you? Do you feel embarrassed when I'm around? 

No. You dress like you should for your age. You don't try to be hip and hot like you're not. But you don't dress like a really old lady, either. And you look pretty good for your age. And you don't wear embroidered cat clothes.

 

 

2.) Do you think I wear the clothes I do like my heels and stuff because I like them?

 

Well, you wear like 43 year olds stuff because you look pretty good for your age. You don't dress like the other moms--they dress younger like Old Navy. Because they are younger.

 

3.) I used to worry about my mom. She did things that didn't make sense, and she would sometimes get frustrated over things I didn't understand. Is there anything I do that confuses you?

No. I kind of never wondered about that because you act like you don't care. So anything that happened was just funny, like we would both be surprised. But the stuff that makes me angry... [topic shelved for later at mother's request]

4.) If I were to dress and act like other moms, would this make you feel like you fit in more? Like, do you ever wish I looked and acted like the moms of your friends?

Hmmm. No. How you act created an essential part of who I am.

5.) Is there anything you want to ask me for this interview? I'm good at interviews.

 

Yes. Why do I have to do this interview.

6.) Do your friends ever say anything about how I am as your mother? 

 

Well, when you taught Sunday School they would say they thought you would be a neat parent. And I would tell them that yeah you give us a lot of freedom with how we think and what we think BUT that we need to obey you or you really lose your mind.

 

7.) Nice. Thank you.

[giggles]

8.) Do you wish you had a different mom?

No. Because then I wouldn't be the kid I am.

9.) You got me! A surprise 30 minutes of PS4 for you!

Nailed it. High five!

10.) What bugs you about me? Anything?

No. Wait... yeah. No. Wait. Yeah. With the rights you give me. I have no rights. I wish you gave me technology rights and let me hang out with people without having to know who they are.

11.) If someone asked you what I did all day, what would you say?

Write. Sike! No, I'd say , [lowers voice] "She is productive and makes sure her family is cared for. She probably cleans too. And goes to Starbucks."

12.) Ok, last one and then you can go. If there was one thing you could change about me, what would it be?

 P-H-O-N-E. Get me one. And let me hang out with girls without asking questions about who they are and where they go to school.

 

13.) [me dying laughing] Like that's going to happen.

 

"Mom, I opened all the Christmas presents and not a single dang box has a PHONE in it!"

Be sure to click over and check out Raven Snook's interview with her daughter as part of Yahoo! Parenting's #NoShameParenting campaign. 

 

P.S. It's fun to talk to your kids.

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21 Things Kids Worry about on the First Day of School

 

 

If a new kid comes in and your friends like them more.

If somebody new is better than you in your special talent and they take your place.

If the new teachers are grumpy.

If your new teacher is strict.

If your new teacher is serious.

If you don't get in a class with your friends.

If you get homework right away the first day.

If the subjects will be too hard.

If your friends are totally going to act different than they were last year.

If your friends changed too much.

If your friend doesn't come back to the same school.

If on the first day you get in trouble for something you didn't do because your teacher doesn't know you.

If the seating arrangements are totally bananas bonkers dumb and I won't like where my desk is.

If you feel too old to hang out on the playground with the little kids.

If you have to play football at recess because everyone else is and so you have to.

If your clothes will be cool.

That my haircut will look too short.

That it will be too hard to sit all day.

That I will be embarrassed if our classroom will look childish to the upper school kids.

That there'll be a mean kid.

That I won't get my secret hope that a new super cool kid will come to our school and we'll be friends.

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 *With thanks to the ever amazing eternally brilliant Erma Bombeck for her poem, *"Nothing to Worry About"

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Dear College Freshman Child

Yaaaaaasssss... perfect!

Dear Son:

You've been away at college for five nights now. We miss you but are thrilled for this new chapter in your life. I mean, we all knew you were ready for this step, busting at the seams of this parent/child role was something we all felt. We miss you 'round the clock and your siblings left back home really feel the loss of your presence, especially on family outings. They asked me to write you a letter so that you would know just how much life sucking fun you've been missing.

No need for us to go into the Costco trip you missed Friday morning when your dad came home with gas can sized containers of corn oil that we have piled up against the sink, I mean -- those are just incidental happenings.

No, your brothers want you to know about the #deeplife that is going on this Labor Day weekend. Like today.

Today was the day your dad decided to relive moments of his boyhood. Your brothers explained it to me this way, "You have your writing, mom, dad has his days of what once was." And so this is how it came to be that your dad piled us into the family van this morning and set up the GPS, whose directions he ignored most of the drive up (Ms. GPS no longer even pretends to be patient) and we drove the two hours your dad needed to, to get what was once for him the childhood marking of a summer's end.

We went to small town Wisconsin where today was "Cornival Day," so named because three! free ears of corn are promised to everyone in attendance at the Cornival. You know what's weird, Alec? Your dad never mentioned Cornival Day to me. Ev-er. Anyhow, in theory, since there were four of us in attendance (again, we miss you sorely) we could have brought our Trader Joe's canvas bags and had them filled with 12 ears of grilled corn, but since only your dad was interested in end-of-summer symbolic feeding, we just waited in line (like some kind of outer space aliens were feeding us from a truck, but that's just my opinion) for the three ears of the free corn, for him.

Your brother, Xavier, wants you to know that he volleyed back and forth about whether or not to purchase "chips" at a food stand because "chips" for sale on a sign with "chips" written in black marker "quotes" makes for an unsettling description, add to the fact that they came in "all kinds." He paid the 50 cents for the "chips" but ate them "tentatively."

We missed you today. Your father had a grand time reliving Cornival Days gone by, but the rest of us, the three of us, felt out of our realm. I say out of our realm, Auggie describes it as "unbearable air smelling of Spam." 

I was okay with your dad searching out his corn roast memories. Even the full lines at the drive-through liquor stores that we passed on the way into town didn't worry me. Today was an important family excursion for your dad and I think he needed to do this as a way of working through his feelings on you being up and flown. As your brothers said, I have my writing to work through life transitions. I can talk to you like an adult now, Alec, so I'm going to tell you, your dad was working through some shit.

Your brothers were rough on your dad, I'll admit. I knew he was going through some intense thoughtful moments, and maybe your brothers went too far in calling today a "crushed memories and broken corn cob dreams" family outing.

It wasn't that bad. I mean, yes... unfamiliar and something we're not used to. For example, the turkey  sandwiches we purchased were turkey porridge (Auggie called it brain soup for zombies) on store brand hamburger buns BUT all that can be tolerated by simply tossing the wet sandwich away and considering the $3.00 purchase price a donation toward the free cornfestivus corn. 

And there were some unexpected moments of delight -- like Magic Mark who performed magic tricks, silently -- though he wasn't in a mime outfit, while following along and interactively learning with the audience to the DVD Magic For You! that he had playing on a two foot thick TV on a TV tray to his right.

It's all perspective, I explained to your brothers.

Where else could we see Cornival clientele arguing with game booth workers over the number of balloons they popped with a dart, three chances for a dollar, and the size prize they felt they should have received rather than the one they did receive. Life can be a book, or a Twilight Zone episode, that you step into.

You would have enjoyed today's outing, Dear Son. If you talk to your brothers, it was close to but not as awful as they describe it. The "chips" were tolerable. With your dad paying no mind to the chattering of the GPS, we found our way home. Your family survived this Labor Day without you. More than anything, we missed you.

We made your dad happy today, though there was a moment that we caught him wistful -- almost as if he expected someone to recognize him from 40 years ago. But we returned home, no worse for wear.

Although Auggie says that today made him hate corn forever.

 

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