37

Yesterday was my birthday. Robbie secretly prepared a lovely big breakfast, and I was thrilled to walk into the kitchen to find hot coffee already made. My day was nice. One of Robbie's patients left two roses in my front door, and another delivered a chocolate birthday cake. We all thought it was quite yummy. I'm a lucky lady. I enjoyed my kids all day, but I was really ready for some time alone with Robbie once our babysitter arrived.

We went to dinner at a place called Bluestem. I have a few friends who are amazing cooks. Becky mentioned Bluestem once when my brother was in town looking for a wonderful place to take his boss. Their website made the restaurant look inviting, and I made a birthday reservation. I instantly loved the place. Our food was placed on a granite placemat, and the room was simple, yet very nice. The menu was set up in courses, and we had to ask our very polite waitress for a translation. Our selections turned out to be amazing, and I can honestly say that I have never in all my life eaten food that was more exquisitely placed on my plate. Robbie was in heaven with the way the flavors blended and complemented one another. I was struck by the fact that the husband wife chef couple/owners saw food as an art and placed it on our plates as such. Tiny edible flowers gave a hint of lavender color. Dollops of pureed vegetables were dropped or drizzled on the plate like paint strokes. I can't even describe how lovely it looked or how impressed I was by every aspect of our food. Each course was delicious and absolutely amazingly beautiful. The price of our food reflected the thought and effort that the chefs put into its preparation, so we will not soon become regulars. However, my 37th birthday dinner was fabulous, and I won't soon forget it.

The Long and Short of It

Wednesday, May 18th - Olivia holds 13 1/2 inches of pigtails.

First Communion on April 30th. I loved her long curls.

This photo was taken today, May 17th, after school. I undid two long braids and tried to smooth things a bit.

The grandparents for whom this blog was started will recall that my first entry described Evelyn cutting off the hair of a little friend who had been growing her hair to donate to Locks of Love. This cool organization makes wigs for children who are bald. Olivia decided many months ago that she really wanted to give her hair to a child who needed some. This was hard for me to swallow, because I've always had long hair. Plus, I may be Olivia's mother, but her hair is more than just a little special. It is pretty amazing. I told her she had to wait until after First Communion before she could donate her hair, and she's been patiently waiting ever since Robbie and I gave her the go ahead.

The days leading up to today's hair donation are a story all their own. I finally got Olivia an appointment this afternoon at an upscale and very reputable salon near our home. Minutes after getting worked into their cancellation list, I spoke with a friend whose daughters have donated their hair. My friend explained that a children's salon in the area provides complimentary haircuts for girls cutting ten or more inches off for Locks of Love on Tuesdays. Low and behold, today is Tuesday. Some of you know that my husband is very particular about the girls' hair. When I told him the good news about how I could cancel the pricey salon haircut for the Sugar and Spice one, he sounded concerned. He encouraged me to just take Olivia to the place where the stylists likely had the most training and pay the money this one time. Daddy spoke. We listened.

Evelyn went with us, and she said, "Does that guy have a mohawk?" The answer was yes. The hair stylist was nice. The lady at the front told us he had experience cutting for Locks of Love, and she said he was an amazing stylist. The girl who scheduled Olivia said the man cuts her hair, along with her whole family. "I'm all about (his name)!!! He's incredible." I felt good about all that I heard. We discussed the plan. Olivia had to donate at least ten inches. If you look at the photos, then you'll see that she had plenty. Her hair stretched to the waistband of the skirt she wore, and we were really excited. Truth be told, I was so nervous that I felt a little off. I got tears in my eyes as we waited for Olivia's turn, and another stylist assured me that Olivia's hair was so long that ten inches wouldn't seem like anything. She said, "It will still look long." Once she was in the chair, the stylist and I discussed the plan. We agreed that a bob would be a good look for the final cut. Olivia said she wanted twelve inches off, and I firmly said, "No, twelve will make it too short. She only needs to donate ten. MAYBE eleven. I don't want her hair to stop at her ears." Famous last words.

He put her hair into two low pigtails. I asked him if he was going to measure, and he said he would. I think he "measured" with a comb that had a length he knew. He started sawing away at her thick, golden hair, and I had to bury my face into the back of Evelyn's head. My heart raced. When he handed me the first clump of hair, I felt kind of sick. After he handed me the second one, and I saw how short the hair at the very back of her neck was, I went into internal panic mode with self talk. I told myself that he was good. He knew how to take what looked like a mistake and turn it into a styled hairdo. Honestly, her hair was a horrible mess at the back. It was 50 different lengths, and some of them were horrendously short. Nothing fell anywhere near her shoulder. "What just happened?" I asked myself. I told him what we wanted. What did he do? Why in the hell are some of the pieces so short?!

He shampooed her hair, then went to work with the scissors. He cut. He cut some more. Evelyn whispered to me, "Her hair looks like a boy's. This guy does NOT know what he's doing. I'm scared for Olivia." I kept trusting. I waited. Then I started fuming. Honest to goodness, I started playing over and over the words in my mind, "If you cut her hair ANY SHORTER I am going to hurt you with those SCISSORS!!!!!" He could clearly cut hair and give it a good shape (thank God), but he had messed up with the initial cut of the length. When we got home I measured that he cut 13 1/2 inches! I was fuming as he cut, and I kept casting angry looks at the stylists around us. "Do you see what he's done?!" my eyes cried. Pretty soon he finished. His back had been to me throughout the cut. He said, "Well, Mom. What do you think?" I looked him square in the eye, then I turned to my precious daughter. "YOU are gorgeous." Then I turned back to him, "But THAT is NOT a bob!!" He basically then asked me to define a bob for him. I put my hand to the base of my neck and moved it all the way around. "A BOB is like this! It isn't cut up to her ears." He calmly explained that her hair couldn't have been left that long if he had to cut off ten inches. WHAT-EVER!! I couldn't fix it. He knew I was not pleased. I didn't want Olivia to think that she didn't look perfectly fine, so I just said, "Okay," took the hands of my girls, turned away from him, and walked to the checkout. The smiling lady waiting to take my payment did not receive a smile from me. I stated our name. He followed us, and he told her that Olivia's hair did not turn out the way I wanted, so there would be no charge. I thought that was good of him, because I believe he knew as soon as he cut that first pigtail that he had gone too short. He had to just carry on and try to pull off a save. To his credit, he gave Olivia a very, very cute super short haircut. We just didn't go there for a super short haircut. We went there to make the life of a little child suffering from baldness a tad bit better, and we hoped to leave with shorter hair that was simple and cute. He also styled Olivia's hair and blew it dry with a big round brush. That got me all worked up too, because I told him I have four kids and needed Olivia to have a wash and go cut for her naturally curly hair. I knew her short hair would look even shorter once it dried curly. I was so mad that I was about to cry. I didn't trust myself to speak reasonably, and plenty of profanities were running through my head. I took the hands of my girls and left without another word once our bill was dismissed. Evelyn went off once we were outside about how much of Olivia's hair he had cut off. I told Olivia that she is beautiful and looks super cute. I just explained that I thought he didn't listen to me and cut her hair way shorter than we discussed. Should I have gone to the salon with my own measuring tape? A friend who is a patron of the salon gave us the suggestion in the first place, and I felt like I should have been in good hands.

I dreaded the drive home. Robbie hasn't been totally thrilled about Locks of Love. We are obviously proud of our young child for being so big hearted and empathetic. Olivia is amazing. Henry stopped dead in his tracks in the garage when he saw Olivia, and he said, "Vivia! Why did you get your hair cut like a boy?" He looked nervous. The baby was uneasy too. She kept looking warily at Olivia. Robbie let out a shocked, "Whoa!" or something, then he scooped up his big girl and told her how cute she looked. When she broke down in tears about the short length, he knelt down with her and very sincerely talked to her about the gift she was providing to another child who had no hair. I love him so much, and he said just the right words in that moment. We told him the whole story, which also included two trips to the restroom for Evelyn. It was dimly lit to set a spa mood, and a large photo of a red lipsticked open mouth hung over the potty. She said, "Get me out of here. This room freaks me out." She was so scared that she didn't finish going potty, which was why we had to go back four minutes later. Oh, to be five years old again.

Olivia had a bath, and her curls were drying as we tucked her into bed. She looks darling. I'm really proud of her, and I know we will never forget this day. We laughed, and I animatedly told her exactly what I'd say to the stylist should she ever decide to donate her hair again. I was stern and precise and didn't mess around with my words. I was tough mama, and the girls giggled.

Maybe God decided to wink at us today. "Hey, Julie. It's just hair," He had to remind me. "It will grow. Lighten up." Plus, some sweet little girl is out there right now without hair. Because of the snip happy stylist, that child will have an extra long, super lovely wig made with long, wavy, beautiful golden locks from the head of a child I love. Also, this experience gives us an opportunity to emphasize the fact that Olivia is beautiful on the inside, and she's beautiful no matter what kind of hair style she wears. Everything will be okay.

Peace Out, Colorado!!

This morning when I went to the girls' school to volunteer in preschool and second grade I never imagined that I would have to sing a punk rock version of The Wheels on the Bus to Olivia's class. Yes, it's true. Her Birthday Book was called Punk Farm on Tour. Her teacher suggested I look it over before the children sat on the reading carpet, and I had to chuckle on the inside as the realization hit that I could not get by with the typical Wheels on the Bus tune for this crazy book. The lead singer sheep in the illustrations totally rocks out on stage, and the pig has an electric guitar and what look to be groupies. One goat said to another animal, "Chill, homie." The band's mode of transporation is a rock van, and they wear their sunglasses at night. I didn't hold back as I belted out....typed as in the book, "ALL THROUGH THE TOWWNNNNN!! YE-OW!!" I then raised my voice for the next page, "Peace Out, Colorado!" I've always wanted to be a rock star. My point is that this parenting thing is unpredictable. I knew I'd get to read a story today, but I didn't know I'd need a a sense of humor and a good deal of self confidence to get through a little children's book. Olivia loved my vocals, and thankfully, I did not embarrass her. Even the boys seemed to think the story was cool, and I had their attention. What fun!

Okay, Reader, so my question is as follows: Does Henry's newfound ability to stand up while peeing outweigh his knowledge of Taylor Swift Love Story song lyrics? Hmmm??? Ev got a CD for her birthday in early April, and I think we now know all of the songs. I often hear Henry singing, "You be the prince, and I'll be the princess. It's a love story, baby just say YES!!" I've also heard something about, "I can't help it if you look like an angel. Can't help it if I want to kiss you in a rain storm." Are we ruining our son, or will he turn out romantic and have the rare ability to understand women? Time will tell. He's so cute at the potty though. He is just barely tall enough to clear the bowl while standing on the ground, and he's clearly impressed with his "pee pee hose" talent. On another boy note, my son has been enjoying his CARS PJs. However, my appreciation for two identical pairs took a southern turn once I realized that he layered two tops and two bottoms this evening after his bath. I imagined that he'd always have a clean pair of his favorite PJs, but this won't be the case if he carries out his heart's desire to wear as much Lightning McQueen as possible...all at once. Henry has also decided that his possession of a new CARS backpack means he needs to go to high school. He has asked me 143 times each day, "Can I go to high school now?" When we get into the van he'll say, "Are you taking me to high school?" "Yes, someday, Henry."

Henry and baby Vivian (who is totally walking now!) have been messing around for a long time at naptime. He climbs in and out of his crib at will, and she squeals as he entertains her and throws toys into her bed. The other day I entered the room to find the baby topless. She wore only a mini skirt over her bulky diaper. Henry claimed she took off her own shirt, but I have my doubts. His big blue eyes looked guilty.

Olivia will soon donate her hair to Locks of Love for use to make a wig for children who are bald. Robbie has a system for washing and grooming her hair, and she asked me with total sincerity, "Mommy, will whoever gets my hair use Foxy Curls so their hair will look really nice?" I looked at her innocent face and gave her the tightest squeeze she could tolerate. God bless my sweet chlid.

My baby is walking. Yesterday she'd propel herself forward, then she'd lose her balance slightly and take a couple of tiny steps backwards until her upper body and legs aligned again. She looked like she was walking on a ship on rough water. She looked so stinking cute. We are all so happy for Vivian. She's our latest walker at 15 months. Her baby boy playgroup friends who are just weeks apart from her in age are now roller blading. Seriously, though, they've been walking since winter. Her siblings lug her around, so why walk? After three nights of interrupted sleep I took her to the pediatrician to have her ears checked. I knew she had three teeth coming through her gums, but the doctor saw swelling by her molars too. She's about to cut six teeth at once. For the love of God, please pray for us. I don't want her to hurt, and I want all of us to sleep. Two nights ago she let loose so hysterically with her screaming that it brought Robbie out of bed in the middle of the night. He found me on the kitchen floor trying to wrestle ibuprofen into my furious baby's mouth. It takes a lot of racket to get Robbie up at such a terrible hour. Vivian is so into Daddy right now that as soon as he held her she immediately quit screaming. He put her back to bed. However, he didn't give her the medicine, and she woke me up again with her crying again in the night. Oh, well. Who needs sleep? Oh, right. Mothers of four young children can really use some sleep.

This evening thoughtful Evelyn asked if we could sing Happy Birthday to Olivia. Tomorrow is the true day, Robbie explained to her. She looked sad, so we modified the song to Happy Day Before Your Birthday to You!!! as we ate strawberries and angel food cake.

My new goal came from inspiration taken from Taylor Swift. She has a line in a song that says, "Capture it. Remember it." When I hear those words I am reminded to live fully. Each day is a gift. Life can change in a moment, and every evening I want to be able to say to my children and husband another line from one of her songs, "I had the best day with you today."

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

I'm going to take a few minutes to write while my sweet husband cooks our brunch. The girls are expected to arrive soon from their time away at the hotel. We enjoyed a nice mass with just Henry and Vivian. They did okay. On Easter the masses were absolutely packed. The 7:30 am one let out as the 9 am church goers attempted to fill the building. We agreed that Robbie would drop me off with the three bigger kids to secure our pew, while Robbie parked and brought the baby inside. We had to stand around as the parishioners left the church, then we slipped into a side door and made our way to our usual seats. A few minutes passed as Robbie tried to find a parking spot in the congested lot. Finally, I looked over my shoulder and saw Robbie approaching. The girls saw him too. "Where's VIVIAN?!" I worriedly asked. The look on my calm, cool, and collected husband's face was priceless. He never looks panicked, but that day his face registered shock and concern. He'd left her all alone in the van. He rushed out to save the baby, and we girls giggled in our seats. The people behind said, "That must have been a very funny joke." We shared Daddy's mishap, and they got a chuckle too. The really funny part of the story is that Robbie found Vivian just hanging out in her carseat sucking her thumb with her blankey. She wasn't the least bit upset. I've said again and again that Vivian is the best baby I've ever had. This seals the deal. She's so easy going. However, during that mass Robbie wore a tie. Something came over baby Vivian, and she kept attacking Robbie's tie knot with her little fingernails. She acted kind of crazed with her tenacious grabs, and Robbie looked at me as if to ask, "What is wrong with our baby right now?" Luckily, such moments are rare.

Henry on the other hand always keeps us hopping. We attended a Saturday evening mass a month ago, and he slipped his hand quickly up the back of Olivia's skirt and lifted it higher than her bottom. Her panties flashed the people sitting behind us, and for once we weren't seated in the second to last row of the church. Olivia wanted to sink into the floor, and she wanted to take Henry with her. She was not pleased with him, but she saw the humor in the situation. I think our eyes were as big as saucers. Robbie has been busily planting flowers and vegetables for me as a Mother's Day gift. Henry managed to step on the front and center flower plant in the bed, and Robbie was very frustrated. Everything had been measured and planned, and my son snapped it to the ground.

When Dad and Jane joined us for Olivia's 2nd Holy Communion the Sunday after her sacrament, I asked them to help me by getting Henry from the Children's Church room. Apparently, he backed into the corner of the room, cried, and wailed, "I want my MOMMY!" He didn't want to leave with them, and the mother volunteer teacher asked, "Who are you?" "I'm Julie's dad," he said. My brother was there too, and they somehow got Henry out of the building. He has been attached to me to a fault lately. He cries whenever I leave him, and there is no talking him out of his fits. He will even flip out when I run five minutes away to grab the girls from dance class while he's with Robbie.

Henry sometimes amazes me in a wonderful way. My little guy was given a Lightning McQueen wrapped gift box on Tuesday from Dad and Jane. He slept with it, carried it around the house, held it in the van, and sat with it in the house for days. He was told he could open it on his birthday, and he knew his birthday had not arrived. On the morning of May 6th, his whole family entered his room to sing Happy Birthday. He looked so incredibly happy. Once we finished our song his first words were, "May I please open my present now?" Luckily, he found a CARS book inside. He was really thrilled.

On the morning of Henry's birthday he told multiple people at the grocery store where we picked up his CARS cake that he was the birthday boy. He can be pretty charming with those big baby blues. One lady gave him a high five and wished him at least another 97 happy years. I thought that was the nicest wish. He can retire his flannel CARS PJs until the weather turns cool again. He received some new springtime PJs, and he happily wore them. He has new slippers like his big boy friend Owen too, and that made his day.

Vivian took her first steps on April 23rd. Her whole family witnessed the event, and we clapped for her excitedly. She can pretty much run with her baby stroller walker, but this weekend she took many baby steps. Her feet are tiny, and her steps really are baby steps. They are quick and close together. She can take five steps and travel one foot. It is very funny. She also claps for herself after she walks. We taught her to do so, I suppose.

Well, many hours have passed since I saved this draft. I had a lovely day with my family. Robbie's from scratch blueberry pancakes and eggs with fresh ingredients were amazing. I got a nap and an hour or so to tool around the Plaza all by myself. I snuggled and read to my chldren at bedtime. I love my children. I cherish my husband. All is good in my little world. I'm blessed with good women who received my Mother's Day wishes, and I hope their day was lovely too.

Oh Where Oh Where Has My Blankey Gone?

I'm in trouble. Robbie and I were enjoying a rare quiet evening when the phone rang and Olivia explained that Evelyn had forgotten to take her blankey to the hotel for her special birthday weekend with Ninnie and Great-Aunt Connie. Robbie is saving the night by making a special delivery. That was a major rookie mistake, yet I am no rookie.

Henry turned three today. He called this his Lightning Birthday. He's obsessed with all things CARS and Lightning McQueen, and he was blessed with many fun gifts in that department today. Uncle Anthony gave him a backpack that he wore while taking his afternoon nap. I control the clothing options in this house, but today I allowed Henry to remain in his favorite flannel CARS PJs all day and evening. He wore them to school to drop off and pick up sisters. He wore them to the grocery store to pick up his Lightning cake. He wore them to the park for some birthday fun. It was fine, and he was in heaven.

Well, my man has returned, and I must pause for now. More details will follow, because this was a blessing of a day for our family.