The Dreaded Growing-Out

You’d think, considering how often I chop off all my hair, that I’d be an expert at the whole growing-out thing by now. You’d think that I’d have more tools in my hairstyling arsenal than hats and despair.

Trust me, this is as good as it was going to get.
Trust me, this is as good as it was going to get.

I loved, loved, loved the extensions I got for Mother’s Day, but they’re long gone now and I’m left with…well, this:

In the absence of an on-call hairstylist, I did what any girl in my situation would do: trolled Pinterest for ideas about how to grow out a pixie cut without wanting to jam scissors into my eye.

Pinterest had many good ideas, most of which seemed to presuppose that the natural disposition of one’s hair was somewhat more tractable than mine. I did notice a couple of themes in all the growing-out posts: curling irons are our friends, and the hair over one’s ears is not.

Ignore the dire face.
Ignore the dire face. It’s just my face.

So I curled. Yes, I curled. Then I got bored of curling and busted out the scissors instead. I trimmed my sideburns and the horrible tufts over my ears, and thinned out my bangs a little. And the result is…pretty good, I think!

I’m much happier with it and may actually go outside without a hat sometime in the nearish future. Possibly. Especially now that Rory unraveled my favorite hat.

Here is an animated gif to memorialize the transition. You’re welcome.

If this GIF does not play it's because of science or something.
If this GIF does not play it’s because of science or something. Also the cleavage is not deliberate; I’m a nursing mama and boy does it show. ::clutches pearls::


I trekked out to the Queenbee studio today & got the cutest bag known to man. Seriously, this bag is so cute I totally want to date it. It looks just like the picture only with teal flowers. Have I mentioned my love thing for teal? Because, yes.

In other news, we’re back from California, where it was unreasonably warm and also lots of fun and also also lots of work (since there is no rest for the small business owner), and I have bangs again. Bangs? you say. Didn’t you just finish growing out your bangs? To which I say Shut up, they’re cute. And yes.


35It was my birthday last week. Yes. I am 35 now, a solid, respectable age. I would have posted about it sooner, but usually I loathe my birthday for reasons which have absolutely nothing to do with age and absolutely everything to do with that one time when I was 14 and no one came to my party, but this year? My birthday did not suck! In fact, it was as lovely as a birthday of mine can be (which, as it turns out? Pretty lovely). Not So took me out for a phenomenal dinner at bluehour, which is pretty much my favorite restaurant anywhere ever, and we partook of the cheese plate, about which sonnets could be written. I also had two lemon drops, and anyone who knows me will recognize that 2 lemon drops = 1 drunk me. (This picture illustrates, pre-inebriation, how ridiculously excited I was to go out on a date with my husband. Behold, the massive smile and flushed cheeks!)

splitting hairs

from the sideSo-o, I got my hair cut. All of them, in fact. Which is always a little nerve-wracking, especially since a) I’m a control freak and b) I go to the cheapest haircutting place in town. I know, right? But up until recently I’ve had really good luck there. It’s just the last few haircuts that have been somewhat, er, lacking. For example, I went in today saying I wanted a chunky A-line bob, and got…this weird gamine cut, instead.

Whatev. It’s cute, even if it isn’t what I wanted. Also (and you can’t see this in the photo) it’s still blue, which is happy-making. It’s fading in an entertaining way, and the bleachy bits mean that I can add fun colors without having to do any real work, and isn’t that what everyone wants from their hair?

out on the town

After a week of ministering to my sick loved ones, I was so ready for some me time. It came in the form of a mama’s night out with my friends from the internet, who arranged to meet at the grand opening of Zenana Spa and Wellness Center. I even cut my hair and wore some makeup. I know – crazy talk. But that’s who I am. I live on the edge.

Zenana is a new spa in Portland that takes the novel approach of catering to parents. According to their website,

We offer a variety of spa and wellness services as well as lactation consultations, classes, support groups, childcare and a boutique offering unique mom and baby products.

Maternity Spa and Wellness Center in Portland Oregon

Awesome, no? Zenana’s space is huge and relaxing, and the staff was friendly and helpful. I didn’t get any of the freebies (aside from some delicious food from Vindalho) but I’m looking forward to getting one of the treatments (a mini facial, perhaps?) once we have a little bit of extra cash.

After that, we wandered over to a nearby pub for drinks and snacks. I had my first post-baby cocktail, a throat-searingly alcoholic Flirtini, as depicted in this high-quality cameraphone shot.

I’m not sure exactly what was in my drink, but it tasted vaguely of raspberry. It was quite good once the burning subsided. The company was good too, and that didn’t burn at all. We were out until – gasp! – 9:30pm, and I was home before 11. In my old life that would be an early night, but as it was I felt like I’d stayed out until dawn.

Happy Fun Baby was so glad to see me that he wouldn’t let go of me for an hour. He just kept looking at me and smiling and then burying his head in my shoulder. I had a fabulous time going out, but coming home to that? Best thing ever.

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