Sam’s First Haircut by Daddy

…and probably the last.

When we were still dating, Tony got the idea in his head that his $8 Great Clips hair cut was a gigantic rip-off (Obviously the man has never gone to a spa for a haircut. Eight dollars? Try eighty!). So he bought himself some clippers and started cutting his own hair.

The first two words that come to mind are skin head. Or is that one word: skinhead? I don’t know, but that’s beside the point.

With his pale complexion and close cropped hair, it looked like Tony was some sort of thug. Like he should be wearing black army boots and a tight tee shirt, riding the NY subway.

But I didn’t say anything. Because I’m like that.

Well, okay maybe I did, but we weren’t married yet so I couched it in that delicately worded language that you use when you are still pretending that you are a nice person. But it didn’t make a difference.

When we got engaged, Tony was still shaving his head cutting his own hair. I requested that for the wedding he grow his hair out a bit and get it cut by a barber. Which he did.

Once we were home from the honeymoon I took the clippers and hid them in a place that he would never find them. And he never did, for a long, long time. He started going back to the barber and all was right with the world.

That’s an exaggeration. All was right with his hair. Mostly.

Several months ago, we moved. And somehow in that move, Tony rediscovered the clippers. I told him in no uncertain terms (we’ve been married for almost 14 years now so I don’t couch my requests in that delicately worded language anymore) that the clippers were not to be used on his hair. He would continue going to the barber and shelling out the cash despite his newfound knowledge of the clippers whereabouts.

But then we got Sam. And Sam needed a haircut. Tony eagerly volunteered. And for some strange reason my common sense flew out the window and I agreed.

I was very specific with my request: Short on the sides, longer on the top. Just like Daddy’s.

So Daddy sets up the barber shop in my kitchen and begins to clip away. Look at this picture! Two things are wrong right off the bat.First, my precious son doesn’t have anything covering him so that he is protected from all the itchy hair that is falling in his lap. Second. Tony is clipping off the top. Hello? I said clippers on the side, longer on the top!

Okay, so he remedied the hair-on-the-clothes thing, but look: he is still clipping off of the top!

And even after my nagging gentle reminders nagging, he is still clipping off the top. Geez man, don’t you listen?

Sister lending her moral support to Sam with a gentle pat to the back of the head.

Sam is wondering why Dad is not following Mom’s panicked instructions.

Molly is thrilled that Dad isn’t cutting her hair.At this point I stopped taking pictures and jumped in to give more advice, which was unheeded, of course.

Let’s just skip over the rest—because it’s not pretty—and jump right to the end. The end being that Sam got an all over buzz cut.

Which I hate.

Hence the reason that Daddy will never give another haircut.

And the clippers are hidden.

Again.

Until his hair grows out, Sam will be sporting this outfit.

Eeeeeewww! That’s Gross!

If you have a squeamish stomach you may not want to continue reading this post. Really. It’s gross.

But I see it as a public service announcement to all of my friends who have adopted kids from China, because the information contained within could change their lives.

Okay, not dramatically change their lives, but change them a little for the better. I think.

Three guesses as to what this is:

Not sure? Here’s another view.

It’s earwax. My daughter’s earwax. Eeeeeew.

Yes, my adorable, chubby-cheeked daughter has this nasty stuff lodged in her ears and it takes some doing to get it out.

You see a Q-Tip won’t extract Asian earwax. It’s different that the type of earwax that most people of European decent possess.

I say this like I am an expert or have researched this, but I haven’t. So don’t confuse what I am saying with actual documented fact. Heck, I just asked around and got some feedback and information from friends. Wikipedia may actually be more accurate than me on this one.For once.

Anyway, Molly’s earwax is hard, crumbly stuff that gets wedged in her ear canal like a plug. Using a Q-Tip only pushes the mass of waxy grossness father into her ear. Doctors can get it out, but I can’t.

Until now.

You see, I did a little digging (I use the term figuratively here), and found out that many Asians use a little ear spoon to extract earwax. So I searched on Amazon for Asian Ear Spoon and what do you know…got a lot of hits.

So I purchased one of the models shown and wouldn’t you know, it worked like a charm. I pulled out a hunk of wax from Molly’s ear on the very first try. And then I photographed it. I’m like that.

Here’s the ear spoon that I purchased along with the earwax that I extracted. I like that word. Extracted. It sounds so medical.

Thrilled with my success, I went back on line and ordered this little gem. It’s a lighted ear spoon. Now I don’t even need a flashlight to extract earwax. Look at me go!

Now I can just hear all of my critics: “You should never put anything inside your kid’s ear, or your ear for that matter, blah, blah, blah. You should let a doctor do that.”

Hey, I’m not a doctor, but I play one on my blog.

And that’s about all I am going to say about that, because it was quick, easy and Molly much preferred me over the doctor, who by the way, took much longer, hurt Molly, extracted less wax that I did, and charged me my copay.

So there.

This and That

Here are some random pictures from my camera that don’t fall into any neat little category which would warrant a witty little post dedicated specifically to them.

Here’s Sam crying. I post so may of him smiling that I probably have given you the false impression that he is always happy. He is happy. A lot. But he is human and he cries. And with a mouth the size of his, its loud. Just saying.

Molly writing thank you notes. If you still haven’t got yours for a Christmas present you sent, don’t worry. They.will.get.written! Or my name isn’t Mother.

Looking cute at the dentist’s office.

Teeth cleaning. They never gave me big fancy glasses when I was a kid.

Molly celebrates 100 Day at school.

Molly and Sam show off a Duplo block creation.

No, my son is not playing with a doll. He is practicing being a good father. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Reading books before bedtime.

They looked so cute that I had to add a few more.

Eating snack while watching Pleasant Goat and Big Bad Wolf (Chinese cartoon) on Youtube.

See, random. But fun!

My Sweet Little Valentines

Let me start by saying that Valentines Day is not one of my favorite holidays. It’s total Hallmark made up nonsense forced upon us so that we will go out and buy a bunch of crap that we don’t need in order to not look like a total loser to our significant other who has also been brainwashed to go out and buy a bunch of unneeded crap.

Although I do like the chocolate. But that is beside the point.

Despite my jaded view of February 14th, I do remember being a kid and loving it. Decorating the shoe box, addressing cards, receiving valentines, eating red lollipops. Ah, the memories.

Sam’s a bit young to get involved in Valentines Day, but Molly is just the right age. She had a count down going at the beginning of the month. She was excited. And who am I to squash my child’s excitement with a cold dose of reality. So let cupid loose. Let’s get this party started!

Molly making a Valentines Day card at her school party.

Decorating a cookie…

…and then eating said cookie.

More treats at home. I had big helium balloons for the kids, but I accidently popped one when I was bringing it in the house. Therefore neither one got a balloon because, even though I am new to the mother-of-two-kids thing, I already know that you can’t give to one without giving to the other.

Sam and Molly examine their treats and wonder why their Mom was such a loser and didn’t get them helium balloons.

Molly and Sam fake a smile and try to hide their disappointment over not getting a big helium balloon for Valentine’s Day.

Molly with her goodies.

Sam with his goodies.

Sam loved his cards. Because there were three. And he could line them up (see this post).

Molly with her cards. She’s not as linear as Sam.

Molly going through her Valentines from school.

Trying to convince me that she really needs more sugar today.

Looking at her favorite card.

Showing you, the viewers at home, what she was looking at.

Happy Totally Made Up Holiday Invented So That You Will Go To the Store and Be Guilted Into Buying Useless Crap Day!

Outsourcing: A New Concept For Me

Molly’s birthday is coming up very soon. Typically I have some big, theme based party at home that takes oodles of planning and a ton of orchestration to pull off. I pride myself on the fact that I have never held a birthday party at one of the many locations geared toward just that type of occasion.

Until this year. See, Sam’s cleft surgery is just 8 days before Molly’s birthday. The thought of giving him everything that he needs while still hosting a major event in.my.home! was just a bit more than I thought that I could handle.

So I caved, took the easy way out, made the well thought out decision to hold Molly’s birthday off-site and let someone else do the planning. For a control freak like me, that is a big step. A very big step. And I am still feeling a bit like a loser a little guilty about it.

Anyhoo, a new place just opened up close to home. It looked like fun so my friend Susanne and I took the kids to check it out. The place is a big warehouse which is divided into 3 sections. Part of it is a huge playland. Think McDonalds Playland on steroids. It is a huge structure that will hold 200 kids with activities galore. Another part has a bouncy house and other inflatables reserved exclusively for parties. The third part has a café, party rooms and an interactive dance floor.

The pictures were taken with my purse camera which does not have the range needed for this place. The pictures are blurry, but you’ll get an idea of what the place is like. I’ll have to bring my big camera for the party.

Despite the fact that they have a toddler section to this place, Sam decided he needed to be with Molly and Max. Since he didn’t meet the height requirement, I had to go with him. Inside the playland. All 6'1” of me. And motherhood great?

Mommy and Sam on the giant slide.

Gee, that was fun. Sort of. I mean, I’m sure it is if you are like forty years younger than I am.

Sam was eager for another go.

Luckily Susanne volunteered to take him. Score!

Then Molly volunteered. Double score!

Max joins in on the fun.

Molly and Sam attempt the daring side-by-side slide.

Just so you know we didn’t spend two hours on the giant slide, here is Sam on the dance floor.

Bust a move!

Molly and Sam in the rope web.

Molly zipping along.

Max’s turn on the zip line.

Stay tuned for some better pictures of this fun place on Molly’s birthday. Because, ya know I’m a failure as a mother breaking out of my usual birthday routine, and outsourcing this year’s party.