Mommy rituals

Today, thanks to a wonderful husband I was able to entertain my favorite ritual. My hair-do. I'm convinced these rituals are required to sustain oneself throughout parenting.

I get to the salon a bit early so I relax with a pint before heading in. Today a good friend of mine was able to join me...double bonus.

Then I spend 2-3 hours with my friend who is also a great stylist and a color master. He single-handedly helpede through the grey hair crisis of 2010 by concocting an almost better red than I had been blessed with. 

He's funny, and he's all over the place, and we laugh. It's fun. It takes a bit longer than other clients' cuts and colors, it seems, but I attribute that to my thick hair and his ability to literally talk about anything.

Then today we were interrupted by an elderly lady. As she walked past my chair,  where half my hair was plastered against my skull with the dye, she said, "Wheb I saw you from the side, your gorgeous hair, I thought you were Shawn White."

That's right, the Snowboarder also known as The Flying Tomato...

Yet, she seemed to earnest, so complimentary. I had to stop myself mom laughing, as did my friend and stylist.

Most interesting ritual night, ever.

And really... The Flying Tomato?

Very unmemorable Memorial (yay!)

This weekend has been relaxing and peaceful for all of us. So much so, I haven't even started to worry about when the next kiddo storm will arrive. 

I've also had time to realize I need to create a daily physical goal for myself to get into shape. I realized this before and lost motivation because of winter, but now is the time. So what shall it be? Suggestions welcome.

In the meantime, here are pics summarizing our weekend so far.

This one's a keeper

After the debacle of last month, I copied Facebook and instituted a point system to let Rose unground herself through various tasks. Tasks and point assignments, Mike and I chose. 

Here's my rudimentary first list.

One of the options is to create a page-long letter to anyone in our house explaining why they're important to Rose. This was stolen, verbatim, from Facebook. I added it knowing Rose would be unlikely to do it. Too touchy... Too much emotion.

Yet, much to my surprise, she did it, and she chose me, her mom, as the subject. What a revealing letter. It really listed of all the needs I meet for her. Makes sense, when other caretakers failed to feed, clothe, or keep little Rose safe.

My highlights are as follows.

The funny: "you will not let me have sex (thank you)" [um...you're welcome? Do other parents of 13-year-olds allow this??]

The touching: "You love me a lot even when I am not being nice or cooperative." [really, I feel like a total monster most times..]

The interesting: "you will not tolerate me stealing." [yup]

The mundane: "you let me have sweets."  [eye roll...this seems like a ploy to get more sweets]

I could go on, but instead I might write Rose a response. 

Here's the letter, which is now safely stored in my hope chest for later, when she's 40 and getting married (ha ha), so I can remind her about the no sex comment.

Badge of honor

Today, Rose came home proudly wearing a medal for making honor roll. Gotta celebrate the small things!

Bear poking

This morning's dog walk lead to the sight above. I almost wonder what the neighbors think, but heck it isn't 1950, and I'd like to see them raise a kid out of foster care. 

What lead to Rose sitting outside in her jammies is irrelevant. What does matter is the realization I am living with a bear. There are times when we are talking and suddenly the little bear seems poked. Me, the accidental and baffled instigator outside her cage.

I pause, trying to pull the stick back to calm the bear. It rarely works. Once Rose's brain has launched into argument (fight) mode, poker beware. Suddenly, the bear roars and claws at the cage non stop about everything.

I helplessly stand outside the metal bars, then my fight instinct kicks in. I am, after all, a woman, and a first born, and Irish, and a granddaughter to a stubborn and amazing woman...so I don't back down from a challenge easily.

In the last three years, I have leaned to be better than that. To put my stick away, which is what I pretty much did today. It's so lovely out, the warm air made me peaceful. Even after the bear felt so provoked she threatened to choke me, I maintained my composure. Yay, me!

Hence, angry little bear sits alone outside gathering her thoughts as I drink coffee and eat a doughnut. Not to say there won't be consequences for bear's threats. It's just a good feeling to know today this poker didn't get a bigger stick.

Blushing politicians

Today, I reflected on how ironic it is that I adopted a child with lying skills that could make a politican jealous. 

I did so because today the whole Cosby parenting trap came to a head. Rose asked if I ate her truffles. I said I didn't, but I couldn't contain my goofy grin, and my eyes sparkled with the truth.

Mom, you're such a bad liar, she said. 

She was dead right.

I tried to act angry at her accusation and turn away from her as much as possible. No dice. My flushed, red face was not gonna let me have this glorious "teaching" moment.  I continued to deny knowledge of the candy whereabouts, even pinching myself as I crossed my arms. No luck. 

Mom, I know you're lying, you have such a silly grin on your face, she said, almost laughing.

Internally I rationalized I didn't eat the candy, which is what she said, I had just hidden it. I'm not lying on a technicality. And I took one more stab denying any knowledge and accusing her of eating them and blaming me. Alas, my stupid face betrayed me. 

Even after Rose left the room, Mike agreed, I totally sucked at lying. Damn it! No more Cosby style parenting for me. I'll have to leave that to Mike who, I learned, can quite easily keep the truth hidden. Must be his strong, German ancestry.

Loved

Today is my fourth Mother's Day. As usual, it's always a kinda hard day for me. I don't really feel like a mom. I feel like a caretaker for a very injured person who never really lets me into her world. Which becomes even more annoying when if she doesn't hate me, she clearly adores me...almost like worship of a younger sister. 

Up/down, up/down...the constancy of hatred and affection Rose constantly bestows on me is nerve wracking. (Excuse the writings style there...I'm now watching "Pride and Prejudice"..)

Plus. I digress, every year Mike sweetly tries to make it a special day despite my bit of gloominess. Even this year, after the struggles of last month, we had dinner out last night, he and Rose made breakfast this morning, and when a crushing migraine forced me to bed, he waited on me. Hand and foot.

Actually, once the puking stage of the migraine wore off, it became a nice Mother's Day because there was a "Sex and the City" marathon on the E network. I slept and listened to the crazy antics of Ms. Bradshaw, which created crazy dreams of New York. 

Finally, the Excedrin Migraine kicked in enough to let me read and now write as the family gets me a chicken strip meal...which may not be fancy but will hit the spot after a day of nothing but fluids.

Oh, and thankfully, a change in meds has made Rose a totally pleasant kid. So Mike spending nearly the entire day with her wasn't as worrisome as it would have been just one week ago. Seriously, it's like a dark cloud has lifted to reveal her personality. Sure, she's still a teen who knows everything, but now she's also not overly defiant. 

I'm not big on meds. I don't think all behavior should be diagnosed and treated medically. Children need to push and act out. I would like to see her ease off of them. However, sometimes they do really help. 

Now I am going to put this blog entry to rest so I can really enjoy the moment when Mr. Darcy kisses Elizabeth Bennett. Sigh....