Haircut

If you've seen me, you know that I don't care about my hair.  It's almost always just stuffed into a ponytail.  I've always had bangs for two reasons: 1) to hide my tall, wrinkly forehead, and 2) I lack the patience to grow them out.  When they get too long, I trim them.  About twice a year, I get a professional cut. 

Over the weekend, I went to Walmart for my biannual cut.  The stylist graduated from high school two years ago (I know this and much more, because she talked the whole time).  I hadn't even brushed my hair that day, because they always wash it before the cut.  This one said she prefers to cut dry hair.  Mike and the kids had finished wandering around Walmart and had come in to the salon to watch.  I've fielded a LOT of strange, inappropriate questions about the formation of my family, but the stylist looked at all four of us, and (as she yanked a fine-toothed comb through my tangled hair till I thought my scalp would bleed) asked me one I'd never heard before: "Was your pregnancy with them very hard?"

Mean Mom

I sent Sarah to the corner as punishment for doing something she knows she's not supposed to do.  I glanced at her once while she was standing in the corner.  I noticed she was drawing something on the wall with her finger.  When her punishment was over, I knelt down in front of her to talk to her.  After a short discussion, apology, prayer, and hug, I released her, and she said, "I'll show you what I was drawing while I was in the corner."  I watched her little finger trace the letters M-O-M, and I thought, "Isn't that sweet."  But then her finger drew a circle around it and put a big angry slash through the whole thing. 

Couch playground

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This is what our couch normally looks like.  When we're expecting company, we put it together for seating, but usually it's just used for playing.  In fact, I started keeping a list of all the things the kids have pretended it to be.  So far, there are 71 different things on the list (if, for some reason, you want to know what they are, send an email or leave a comment, and I'll email you the list). 

My aunt and grandma are coming over for dinner, so Mike put the couch back together.  This morning the kids ran into the living room and both stopped short. They looked dismayed, and Sarah said, "Oh no!  Where's the playground?"

Dale Carnegie

I wonder if I could make millions teaching a Dale Carnegie course for kids.  Probably not.  I've been teaching my "How to Be a Good Friend" class for 8 years, and the results have not been the best.  I keep getting the same two students in my remedial courses, "How to Listen and Compromise" and "Don't Be So Bossy!".  The progress is painstakingly slow and sometimes appears to move in reverse. 

My mom feels sure that they will eventually become fine adults, and most of the time I believe that too.  But some days, I have my doubts...

My little packrat

Yesterday I was helping Noah clean his room.  The kid is emotionally attached to every little piece of junk in his room, so it's very difficult to declutter, since he's always around.  I was stuffing things in my pockets to secretly dispose of when he wasn't looking.  I loaded up the kitchen garbage can  with the loot while he was still in his room.  Then I carefully covered it up with other garbage. 

Fast forward to this morning when I woke up at 2:30 a.m.  I didn't go back to sleep, so I was wide awake when I heard Noah come out of his room at 3:30.  I heard the refrigerator door open, followed by some rustling.  After a few minutes, he went back to bed.  When he got up this morning, I asked him about his middle of the night adventure.  He admitted that he was rooting through the garbage to see if I had thrown away any of his "valuable property"!  I cringed and asked if he had found anything.  He said, "No. I only used the light of the refrigerator, so I couldn't see very well.  I thought it would be my only chance to search without you seeing me."

Too much time on my hands

 

I bought this yogurt only because I had a coupon for it.  I certainly don't need help with slow intestinal transit.  This statement on the container amused me, because that little phrase, "as part of a balanced diet and healthy lifestyle" is really the key.  If you have a balanced diet and healthy lifestyle, you wouldn't need fancy yogurt to speed up your "intestinal transit".  You could insert any food in place of "activia".  For example, "Eating a pound of M&M's is scientifically proven to help with slow intestinal transit when enjoyed daily for two weeks as part of a balanced diet and healthy lifestyle." 

When I read "See under lid for details", I just had to see for myself what these details could be. 

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I took off the plastic lid (on the right), thinking that would be the logical place to find the details.  Nothing.  So I peeled back the yogurt-covered foil lid, and there were the details.  Who's going to bother to wipe the yogurt off to read them?  

 

Yep.  Me.  After going to the trouble to clean off the lid, you can't even read the tiny silver words printed on the wrinkly silver foil.  I got out the magnifying glass and was barely able to make out the details.  You have to mail the company your original receipt (with the yogurt purchase circled), the UPC code (which you have to cut off the plastic container), and, get this...a written essay about "why you didn't see the benefits of Activia."  All this must be postmarked by a certain date, and then you have to wait 6-8 weeks for your refund.  Would anyone really wipe off the yogurt to read the information, cut off the UPC code, circle the receipt, write an essay about their constipation, put it all in an envelope, and spend 42 cents to mail it, just to get their $2.99 back?   

Classic Sarah

Sarah complained to me, "Noah thinks he's better than me, but he's just bragging.  Actually, I'm better than him."
I said, "Aren't YOU bragging?" and she said, "No, I'm just being confident."