If I bring this to my doctor today, will they finally understand? Since they don’t hear me, maybe a game of pictionary instead?
If I bring this to my doctor today, will they finally understand? Since they don’t hear me, maybe a game of pictionary instead?
I do stupid things. Many, many stupid things. But of all the stupid things I do, my family would say that the stupidest of all is cutting my own hair.
The problem is that while *they* tell me to stop, everyone else in the world fawns over how creative I am and what an amazing job I did. They ask me for my stylist’s number!! Do you know the rush of being able to say “It’s me! It’s me! I did it!” No, you don’t. But you probably also don’t know the sinking feeling of realizing you just gave yourself a mullet… again.
Oh yes, there have been failures. Epic failures. The most epic failure of all, even more epic than multiple mullets (pause to let the word “multiple” sink in), was the time that I decided to give myself “pixie bangs” and ended up with a crew cut on my forehead.
Crew. Cut. Bangs.
Crew cut bangs.
So what’s a crafty girl to do?
Glue. In. Bangs.
Being one who often cut too much, I was getting very familiar with glue-in weave. I was actually pretty pissed that, up until that time, no one had ever told me how easy it was! It was like they were hiding it from me; I would get so many compliments when I used it… But I digress.
Glue in bangs…
My sister groaned. My mother was pissed. But everywhere I went, people loved my hair! I had quite a lot of fun telling them that my bangs were fake – the looks on their faces!! Really, I enjoyed the humor of my stupidity a bit too much, in retrospect, but at least I had a sense of humor about it, right?
All this is embarassing enough as it is, but it was about to get better. Or worse, depending on how you view it.
So I was at my job, working with children who have autism. Having about thirteen years in the field at that time, I actually preferred to work with children that had severely agressive behaviors because, well, I was really good at it. With one client in particular, though, there was danger of getting my hair pulled straight out of my head. (Can you forsee where I’m going with this?)
[And before we go any further, let me just say that yes, I *genuinely* loved (and still do love) working with children who have autism – especially those with more challenging behaviors, and that not all children on the spectrum have these kinds of behaviors. Regardless, I love, love, LOVE my work!]
I arrived to that particular client’s home, along with my boss. Our session went on as usual, which meant I was on high alert for the dreaded and extremely painful hair grab when I suddenly heard a brief “Look out!” from my boss. As I see my client’s hand reaching for my forehead, I don’t even bother to flinch, block, or move. I know what’s coming…
There I was, in front if my boss, in front of my client, in front of my client’s mother with NO BANGS! Just a patch of gluey hair, and a child with “my bangs” in their hand.
People, let me tell you something. I love each and every one of my clients so dearly, so please understand that when I say nothing really ever shocked this particular client I am not being cruel or making fun. Nothing really *ever* surprised them. But looking down to see my bangs in the palm of their hand?? They were a bit surprised. And that was surprising to me.
My boss’ face went pale.
My client’s mother’s jaw dropped.
And I just freaking laughed harder than I ever have in my entire life.
“They’re fake! They’re fake! I’m ok! I’m ok! See? They glue on!!”
Now, the look on my boss’ face as I pulled the mini bottle of glue out of my purse and proceeded to re-stick my bangs on top of my head like nothing happened? Priceless.
I’d like to say I stopped cutting my hair or that my client stopped pulling hair, but I can’t. I’d like to say I haven’t touched any hairglue or weave since, but I can’t say that either. I can say that my boss couldn’t look at me for quite some time without laughing hysterically, and I can only speculate that this was the catalyst of our beautifully bizarre friendship.
So there you have it, folks – my Saturday Secret. Moral of the story? Stay away from the scissors and the weave because rarely do anyone else’s stories turn out as hilarious as my own. (:
Just a simple illustration of how I feel, or, rather, how my body feels right now. Fibromyalgia is very real and very painful.
There are rules for using online dating sites. Just because no one posted them when you signed up doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
#1 Get to the Point. The purpose of a profile is to give someone an idea of who you are. Generally you want to give them the best looking idea, but an idea nonetheless. This means don’t lie, don’t lie by omission, and don’t only talk about how you can stay in or go out or how you like everything but rap and country. Really? Wow. You’re such an enigma…
Look, just talk about what’s important to you and your life and if you happen to not know yourself then have a friend write something for you. Nothing is worse than reading a profile that says nothing. The point is to help people decide if they are into you. And that brings me to…
#2 Be Interesting. Not “not yourself”… just interesting. Don’t send messages to people that just say “hi.” or “what’s up.” Why? Because those questions can be answered with one word AND you are the one who is interested in the other person, so you need to pique their interest. Let’s face it – if they were interested, they would have messaged you first! If you send out a message that can be answered with one word, it ill be answered with one word or not answered at all. And this brings me to…
#3 It’s the Internet – so two things apply – 1) we have the right to be picky and browse and read and stare, and 2) we have the right to not respond. It’s the essential beauty of the internet – anonymity. I don’t have to see your puppydog eyes when I tell you “no” and you can’t get creeped out when I download your picture for the 40th time. Stop getting indignant over people not responding to you. If they were interested, they would answer. It happens to everyone.
And with *that* I bring you to…
#4 You Don’t Know DateyMcGee83. *Do not fall in love with DMG83* based on their pics, or after one date, or even after three. Don’t commit suicide if DM83 doesn’t answer your 49 messages or never calls you back after your date. Don’t make out with DM83 on the first, second, or even third date. Hell, don’t do it for 3 weeks. Why? BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW DATEYMCGEE83!!!
If you truly want to be in a happy relationship, know who you’re dating. After you Google search, CCAPS, and Facebook stalk them, wait to fall for them until after you’ve seen them handle a bad situation. You may have to wait a while, but it’s easy to put on a front when things go well and not so easy when unexpectedly bad things happen. Also, pay attention to what they do and not just what they say. AND don’t be so eager for them to be everything you want – you’ll end up seeing only what you want to see and either covering up some serious warning signs or missing out on some awesomely surprising things.
Now take these rules, go forth, and get your creep on. Just be honest, interesting, thick-skinned, patient, and keep your damn tongue to yourself for at least a month!
Oh, and keep smihlen (:
Our summer has been very interesting so far… if you consider being the only adult in a house full of at least three children, sometimes four, “interesting”. I call it insanity, but a happy insanity – like a big padded cell with lots of pills happy insanity. :::hysterical laughtet:::
My only child is almost 5, about to head to kindergarten, and I couldn’t bear a whole summer with me as his only playmate (nor could he, I’m sure) considering there are no kids his age in the neighborhood. So, we invited my niece and nephew over during the working weekdays so my son would have friends and my brother could go to work without being arrested for leaving his kids at home. 😉
Curious as to what this arrangement sounds like? You sick, sick puppies. Well, I guarantee you that it doesn’t sound anything like your parents’ house (no “get over here, missy” in my world)! Here are *my* most used phrases, in no particular order:
Child! Why is your voice is stuck on “sonic boom”?
If you mess with it and it bites you, I will not feel sorry for you.
Popsicles in the pool does not mean popsicles underwater!
Put your damn bikini bottom on the right way or you are banned from bikinis.
Don’t eat that, it’s gross.
Don’t drink that, it’s gross.
Don’t touch that, it’s gross.
Don’t lick that! Jeebus!
“Pool water tastes like bug blood! ” Then dont taste it.
“My water bottle tastes like pool water!” Then don’t drink it.
“She won’t share!” Then don’t play with her.
“I’m hungry!” I’m Mom/Auntie Stacy. Nice to meet you.
Find something better to do.
Not in *this* house!
Put clothes on that barbie now, or you’re not playing with them anymore!
I assure you, no one wants to see your butt or your weiner.
No more boyfriends and girlfriends! You all have invisible ones from now on!
LEAVE THE CAT ALONE!
Do you need to get your hearing checked?!
Leave him alone!
Leave her alone!
Leave them alone!
Leave me alone!
Eat your vegetables or you’ll get scurvy.
Eat your vegetables, they have the antidote to the zombie virus I put in your juice.
THIS. IS. SPARTA!
Turn The Lady Gaga off now.
It’s Lady Gaga, not Baby Gaga.
My most used phrase is, without a doubt, You guys are weird, but I like weird kids. I know this because I overheard my niece say “I’m a weirdo, but Auntie Stacy likes weird kids!”
Hope you all are enjoying your summer as much as we are! (:
(Saturday Secrets is where I tell embarassing stories about myself. On a Saturday. Here is an embarrassing story that happened last month…)
We’ve been going without toilet paper for quite some time over here. Now, before you get grossed out and concerned, let me tell you that we just so happened to fall into a huge box of wetwipe packs back in December that have carried us all the way to the end of May… but the real concerning issue is that since December we have had no extra funds to afford such frivolous things as toilet paper. Since DECEMBER!
Yes, it has been a rough season for this family. And just as the check I had been waiting for arrived and I was finally able to plunk down a wole $10 for a 36 pack of precious toilet paper…
Yep. Those bastards shut us off.
So I am literally hysterically laughing and crying at the same time at the fact that I was so happy to be able to pick up toilet paper, but now we have NO POWER in our house.
That is the way it goes, I guess. There is always a struggle somewhere. This particular struggle has actually landed me in a great spot, though. I learned how to ask for help. Real help. Real problem solving kind of help. And you know what the result was? A friend and I worked out a deal for the summer. She needs care for her child once school is out, I need money for utilities, and my son needs a playmate. She needs someone to maybe make dinner once she was done with work, and I need help with dishes. The power will be back on tomorrow or the next day, but even better than that is the feeling of still having something to offer the world that isn’t tied to money. That feeling is priceless.
And it is an important lesson for single parents or parents in general – make friends with people who need you as much as you need them. Be creative. Let go of the idea of perfect independence, because if we were all truly meant to do everything alone we wouldn’t have mouths or hearts.
This next bit is a possibly inappropriate confession: I love when the power is off. My child has to find other things to do besides watch freaking Adventure Time. I know, I know… I could simply tell him no and blah blah blah. Look, it’s different when the power is off. It just is. I will admit I am weak at times and give in if you can admit that the power being off is a little more reinforcing. I also llike the natural light glow of my home without electricity, something I often forget when all the nightlights are left on throughout the day.
I like the silence. Really. No buzz from the tv or refridgerator, no clacking of the heater or grinding of the AC. It is so peaceful. And at night? Who knew it would be easier to sleep if it was completely dark?! And I mean completely. We usually have a hallway light on at all times for those midnight potty runs, as well as a nightlight in the music room for when you walk into a dark house late at night. But without them all, it was inky black and perfectly serene. I kinda loved it.
I don’t mind the extra creativity needed to figure out meals, either. I just call up a friend and ask if they woud like us to come make tem dinner. It works very well. Cooking real food is so cheap, and cooking for more peope isn’t much more expensive than cooking for two if you pay attention to what you’re buying. Plus, we get some much needed social time – me with other adults and my son with other kids. It is win-win all the way.
Yes, of course I want my damn electricity back on. But in trying to make the best of a situation I have learned a few things. I’m definitely going back to electronic-free Sundays, for one. That was a beautiful tradition that got lost in the busyness of life. Next, I think we will offer to cook for people more often. Lastly, some of these damn lights are getting turned the hell off during the day. And we will probably start to limit television time again.
There is beauty everywhere, even in the tough and embarrassing parts. Find your beauty wherever you are, and if you just can’t find it – call in reinforcements.