Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I’m obsessed with this movie:

Have you seen it?  Go buy it or find it on Netflix or something.  Or invite me over to watch it with you because I want to watch it again and again.

It’s the story of black hair and the lengths (ha, pun) women go to to get long luscious Beyonce hair.  Relaxing, extensions, weaves, they’re all in there.  It was a total revelation and I loved how black girls spilled their hair secrets that I’ve been wondering about my whole life.  I watched it again last week with my fabulous and lovely hair dresser friend Melissa. She was as mystified as I was and I thought, as a hair dresser, she would be privy to this sort of information.  Apparently only black hair dressers know their secrets?  Why is that?

What is UP with Beyonce’s blowing in the wind hair?  How did she get it that long and silky looking using relaxer which I know just fries your hair?  Is everybody related to Native Americans?  How does Michele Obama get her hair to look perfect?  Who is wearing fake hair?  What is fake hair?  How much does this all cost?  And most importantly, HOW DO I GET IN ON IT??

Weave, weave.

A weave means a lot of different things.  These, I’d guess, are full pieces that are sewn onto the head after the real hair is french braided down to the scalp.  It’s a fascinating process and one that takes hours, has to be redone every 6 weeks, looks like it hurt, and costs a fortune.  I want to try it!  But it sounds itchy.

Braided, netted, extensions to be sewn on.  These are clipped to the hair.

Now everywhere I go I’m constantly evaluating black girl’s hair and analyzing how they got it to look so amazing.  It’s like art.  They can change their hair dramatically overnight. 

Jealous.

Wigs are definitely not part of white girl culture, unless the wearer is undergoing some sort of chemotherapy, in some theatrical show, or maybe a prostitute.  If you see a white girl wearing a wig A) you notice and B) you try to determine if she is sick.  I’ve always been tempted by wigs but never given them a go.

Pre-wig, wearing wig cap and looking kinda scary.

No time like the present!

If you’re going to buy a wig, I say, go big or go home. Japanese girls wear wigs all the time for cosplay -- costume play dressup -- as seen with Gwen Stefani’s xenophilic (but perhaps condescending) Harajuku girls phase.  I didn’t want a natural looking wig.  I wanted an anime-style wig.  Not quite Lady Gaga, but something fantastic.

 

Cosplay girl, Girls in cosplay in the Tokyo Harajuku neighborhood. Jude in the stroller.

After being jealous of this blogger for months, I found some fabulous wigs for sale from China and went for it.

My wig’s debut was a regular Saturday.  My kids and I were headed to the Little Farm in Berkeley and then to the mall for some shopping.  Just me and them, probably not seeing anyone I knew.  Perfect time to experiment with my new freaky wig.  I was feeling brave and ready for adventure.

My mom helped me put on my piece, though she objected and didn’t get why I was wearing a pink wig.  I didn’t really know either.  I just felt like it, okay?

We got it on, I turned to her and she adjusted it and said, “Looks perfect.  You look like a prostitute.  Don’t be surprised if you get propositioned.  Have a good day!”  Thanks mom!

 

At the Little Farm

At the Little Farm I quickly realized that being normal and with my kids totally validated me despite the weird hair.  I had a posse.  My kids didn’t think I was weird, they liked it!  It was like being a mermaid all day, or a Disney princess!  Stranger kids wandered up to me in interest.  I liked it!

Then we went to the mall.  We’re always a bit of a spectacle because I load all three kids onto one stroller.  This time I was pushing it wearing my weird wig.  Teenagers stopped me to talk about the wig.  Old people smiled at me.  It was strange being so conspicuous, but very amusing.  It made a boring and stressful walk through the mall a total adventure.

And then we ran into Carol!  Mimi’s preschool teacher (hi Carol!) was shopping with her mom and, as she passed me, was nudging her mom to look at the girl with the freaky hair.  Then when she recognized Mimi and Jude she said incredulously, “Lenore?!”  I loved that she knows me well enough to be simply amused.  It was so fun running into someone we knew and we laughed a lot.  It was the best part of the day.

Until that night.  It happened that I was meeting Some Guy, his boys, and our friends for dinner.  In Oakland.  At an Ethiopian restaurant where we are often the only white people there.  I don’t know why I felt more uncomfortable in that restaurant, and subsequently at Oak Street in Emeryville, than I had in less ethnically diverse areas.  For some reason a white girl wearing a wig in the majority white suburbs is different than a white girl wearing a wig around more black people.  People literally pointed and obviously nudged each other.

It was very interesting.  But then I thought to myself, why is it weird for me to wear a wig and not weird that the girl standing next to you is wearing fake hair?  What’s the difference?  Do you think her wig is less noticeable?  Cause I notice.  I know the fake hair secrets now. 

I’m slowly debuting my pink wig with my friends.  Today I wore it to the laundromat and the dentist.  It turned mundane activities into adventures, and all because of a mass of synthetic pink hair.

I’m totally buying more.

  

Laundromat photoshoot.

Not Normal

There were 1200 hits on this blog yesterday.

Sure, many of them are refreshes and returning visitors, but still.

Kind of a lot of people.

It got me thinking.

What is the most important thing I could say to you? What would be worth reading, worth your time?

I was born a little bit different -- when I was just a little kid my older sisters would say, "Come here, Normal" to which I'd scream, "I'm NOT NORMAL!!" I've always had authority problems and rebellious problems and rebel rouser problems. I got kicked out of church camp EVERY YEAR but my parents still made me go back. I was my parent's worst nightmare throughout my teen years, aside from my intensity about academics. I've never really been a good girl.

After high school I attempted to quit going to the LDS church. I had LDS friends and attended church but I had many problems bending my will to that of an organized religion. I believed that the LDS lifestyle was a good way to live but I wasn't trying very hard and I didn't really feel like I fit in: I had weird hair, I supported liberal politics, I hated Utah, I didn't go to BYU, I didn't think women should serve missions, I had no verbal filter, I was a feminist, I wore bikinis, I was fun.

A bit weird, not that cute, hanging out in my favorite section of Barnes & Noble. You're not a real blogger if you can't post gross pics of yourself.

Despite not fitting in I found myself an LDS husband who tolerated and celebrated my unMormony brand of Mormonism. We had a lot of good years together in which he would help me dye my weird hair, discuss the merits of attending non-Sunday church activities, and seek out less "normal" Mormons to befriend.

While I was definitely on the fringe of LDS culture, I didn't realize that I may have also been on the fringe of LDS practice. Sure, I went to church and attended the temple, did my callings and lived the LDS lifestyle. Nevertheless I felt stagnant in my belief.

And then came crisis.

During the crumbling of my marriage I found myself alone on Sundays while my ex was either traveling or doing theater. I found myself alone at night. I found myself alone in general.

On those Sundays I had a couple of kids who were not going to go to church that day unless I took them. And so I took them.

On those nights alone at 2 am there was no one to call and nothing to do but worry. The church says to seek for solace in the scriptures. And so I read them.

This was my hour of need and I had faith that the simple Sunday School answers would work: read the scriptures, say your prayers.

And it did work.

I was strengthened. We got through the worst of it. The rain came down and the floods came up and this house on the Rock stood firm.

I've been through the greatest trial of my life and it was a crucible for me. It taught me faith, humility and reliance on Christ.

I've always been a believer, but now my strong will is more flexible. I've been humbled.

I'm still a liberal voting, rebellious, kinda weird feminist woman with little filter, but I have been through hell and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that the Gospel taught in the LDS church is an absolute necessity.

I invite you to look into it. It's totally in this season.

And if it feels foreign or you think you're not going to fit in or it's not for you, come sit by me.

If I can do this so can you.

Go on, check it out.

WFT: Nor

My WFT is one that’s shared by most of my family.
We’re not huggers.

This is weird if you’re over 5.

 

You’d think we would be, being mostly girls and loving babies in the way that we do.  But I think I can speak for most of my siblings when I say that we’re not really on the hug bandwagon.

I pretty much get all my hugging done with this guy.  (And Some Guy)

We don’t deny hugs, we just are always a little caught of guard by them and they typically make me very uncomfortable.  Why do people press against each other?  What do they get out of hugs?  Am I missing something? 
To me hugs are either sexual or an opportunity for a cheap feel or something reserved for children.  I think hugs peak in middle school when they really are an excuse to get all up in another person’s grill and touch them.  Creepy. 
I’m extremely physically affectionate with my children and significant others, but beyond that I’m a bit weirded out.  Is it weird to be weirded out by hugs?
I’m trying to retrain myself.  I aspire to being more hug-friendly because clearly I’m missing something.  Force me to hug you.  Thanks.
 

Maybe I’m Victorian.  Don’t think Victorians hugged.

Punk is Not Dead

This is what happens when you take your three little kids to LA for no reason whatsoever. You visit LA Zoo, Kidspace by the Rose Bowl, and make a bit of video art.

Thanks to the producers, psuedo-parents, and all around gang of fun who is NS and BS.

Enjoy.

Pony Couture

 

My little Mi going to preschool on her 4th birthday. 

I’d dress just like her if it were not widely frowned upon.

 

Mimi loves My Little Pony.  She’s loved them for about a year now and I encourage it for these reasons:

1)  The ponies are androgynous.   Truly.  None of them are gendered in the least.  They don’t have gendered pronouns; their voices are unidentifiable as female or male.  It’s creepy and comforting at the same time.

2)  No gender means no sexy things about them.  No worries about slutty clothes or ponies pairing off to make more ponies.

3)  They’re cheap, easy to come by, and can go in the bath.  They’re easily identified by the stamp on their rumps, called the “Cutie Mark.”  The main ponies are Pinkie Pie, Cheerliee, Rainbow Dash, Toola Roola, Scootaloo, Starsong, and Sweetie Belle.  I did not have to google that.

4)  Every couple of years they come up with other weird ponies.  Last year it was Mermaid Ponies, a movement we could get behind no matter how absurd.  This year it’s ponies with gigantism.

5)  There are a million My Little Pony videos on YouTube.  Frequently they are in foreign languages.

 

Mimi sneaks into my room and snatches my iphone during nap time.  She breaks into the phone and can find pony movies to watch without knowing how to read.

   

*****

A few weeks ago a package arrived at my door addressed to me.  Upon opening  I discovered seven vintage My Little Ponies from 1983-1984.  Did someone know we’re a pony household?  Who sent these mystery ponies?

And then it dawned on me.

I grabbed my iphone, and sure enough on the EBay ap was a completed transaction purchasing $37 worth of vintage My Little Ponies.

$37 for ponies!  Ponies!  Not even cute ones!  Collector’s items!

Yes, my preschooler can Ebay.  I will be turning off the “buy it now” option.

My Dead Body Friends

2011 is pretty much the best year ever. I’ve reconnected with a lot of my very good friends and seen a lot of my local friends. I dub thee the Year of Friends, 2011. It’s a good thing, too, because when you’re down a spouse you really need your friends.

Recently my BFF Niya and my BFBM (best friend before marriage) Brett came to town. I don’t like the phrase Best Friend so I make sure to use it a lot to vex and annoy, but also to indicate the importance of these people in my life. It sounds exclusionary and I am all about inclusion. I have a lot of BFF’s who cycle through my life in varying degrees of talk-to-every-day and talk-to-every-year. You are probably my BFF.

Brett and Niya are my dead body friends. The saying goes, “An old friend helps you move, a good friend will help you move a dead body.” My heart kinda broke last year, these are some of the people who are putting it back together.

I’ve mentioned Niya a lot. She’s an artist and occasionally poses for people who are selling things ;) Here’s some of her art:

Talented, no? If you’re in LA her show is still up at SubUrban and you should swing by and buy some. Or check out her website.

Any who, Niya and Brett were here.

Wait, Brett is supa cool too. He’s a real bonafide filmmaker who makes a living doing only filmmaking and does not sleep on his mother’s couch. No, he and Niya are not an item. He’s dating this girl.

Here’s his production company and a flier for one of his movies that is on TV sometimes.

Whatever, enough with the resumes.

Brett and Niya were in town and we went fun places and did fun things. And Brett fell down a lot.

And my chest still hurts from all the laughing. Seriously funniest people ever.

Tilden Park Trains, beautiful day.

Please kids, look at the camera. I beg you. View from Berkeley hills of SF Bay.

At the Lawrence Hall of Science.

Ethiopian Food in Berkeley (thanks Some Guy for the recommendation! Love that place!)

Also, my own piece of Niya Art. I got a tattoo on my back when I was 18 and didn’t know what a tramp stamp was. I like what it is, just not the location or the fact that it’s there at all (Tattoo regret?! who knew there was such a thing?) I tried to get it lasered off once but have not had the courage to go back because I don’t enjoy being electrocuted. Worst pain of my life, ever. So I’ve been thinking of changing the tattoo to something I like a bit more since it’s not going anywhere. There’s your warning, mom.

Two artistic types couldn’t take ONE good picture of me with the minions? How am I supposed to recruit a new man when it’s clear my kids are fully a swarm? Can we just pretend the last two are one person? Does Mimi’s free spirit count for two? How am I going to sell us??

Also, it was Brett’s 74th birthday and we happened to be at Pam’s. One mention of his birthday (I hadn’t told them in advance) erupted into a full on GreenBomb party, complete with clown and face paint and singing. Brett was game and I think learned a bit about why I am the way I am. I was totally born this way. And so were my kids!

Art in Motion at the Lawrence Hall of Science.

Thirtieth Birthday Personal Assessment

Had Mimi + 10
Failed at marriage - 50
Had Jude + 15
Had Silas + 20

Taught College English to Freshmen and Sophomores + 5
Wrote a book + 2
Failed to market that book - 5
MA in Shakespeare + 3
Have excellent friends in LA + 5
Have excellent friends in Dville + 5
Have some very close girl friends +10
Get along with sisters +5
Sometimes get in fights with sisters -3
Sometimes get in fights with Alex - 3
Sometimes get in fights with totally random full-of-themselves filmmakers + 2
Get along with parents + 4
Wrote a screenplay + 2
Pretty good at keeping my kids happy and well fed + 10
Not that great at my church callings -2
The workers at McDonalds know me -1
I fit in my pre-marriage jeans + 5
I can eat anything I want + 3
Watch Gossip Girl religiously -3
A bit gossipy myself -3
Also watch Jersey Shore -5
Don't know much about Modern Art - 5
Have a temp rec +25
Held three jobs while pregnant + 5
Too wimpy to make phone calls - 1
Can't keep from zinging people who deserve it -3
Use swear words -1
Ok at teaching choreography for musical theater +2
Can change a tire and fix house things +2
Regular church attendance +3
Most time at church spent mad at my kids -4
Loves shopping at Betsey Johnson -1
Bargain hunts +2
Only spent about two nights away from my kids in the last 6+ months + 10
Not great at making plans with friends -1
Good party planner +2
Been to 15-20 countries + 5
Impulse traveler -1
Great reviews of teaching on reviewum.com + 3
Sorted a stack of laundry as tall as I am tonight +1
Cannot live without my cleaning lady every two weeks -2
Not that good at styling my hair - 2
Pretty good at dying hair pink +3
Good at selling cars + 2
Have fairly cute kids + 5
Relatively funny + 3
Impatient -3
Could be more service oriented instead of needy -5
Bad at writing thank you notes -2

Fastest diaper changer in the world +1
Am able to travel with kids +5
Kind of awesome at Just Dance +1

Thus, my life score today is: 80. That's like a low B. Next decade I'm going to get an A.

Me versus The Minions

A few of my close friends are just now having their second children and they’ve been sharing with me their multiple kid hardness worries.  In my opinion, the mother becomes a parent with the first kid and the father becomes a parent with the second (or not at all).  The mother then becomes a machine when the third comes along. 

 

Silas, about 6 weeks old.  Me, 6 weeks unrested.

As you know, I’ve been doing my kids without a present spouse for much of their lives.  It’s very rewarding and very demanding, but also extremely fulfilling and pretty much really fun.  I like having kids close in age and have posted a lot about the benefits, but would not advocate it for the faint of heart.  It’s hardcore assembly line parenting a lot of the time.  Most of what I know about parenting I’ve learned from my sisters or out of desperation and highly concentrated experience.  And now I impart my trial by fire “wisdom” to my dearest friends.

How I Manage Raising These Sweet and Somewhat Naughty Little Kids

1)  Rely on the Lord. I’m not really doing it alone.  Though I feel somewhat guilty for gyping them out of a long period of individual attention afforded to many spread out children, I know my kids were sent to me at the perfect times.  Nonetheless, it is difficult to give them each adequate attention when all three are clambering and needy.  And yet I have confidence the Lord will help them toward what they need if I’m doing the best that I can.  He makes up the difference where I fall short.  My day requires a lot of prayers.

All three on my legs.  People sometimes ask me why I have so many bruises.

2)  Accept offers of help.  People ask me what they can do to help me all the time.  I tell them.  A village is raising these kids and I appreciate each and every helper along the way.  My kids benefit from the diverse relationships they form with my babysitters, family, friends, and the strangers sitting behind me in church who offer to hold Silas. 

3)  Get over yourself.  You’re not going to be your prettiest when one kid is barfing on you and the other two are beating each other up and you’re just trying to look presentable before you leave the house.  Most days I get to chose:  shower or do my hair?  Makeup or spend time picking out something cute to wear?  This Sunday I got the kids and myself up, bathed, dressed, hair done, fed and out the door to Stake Conference in 55 minutes.  I left with wet hair, but we made it on time.  Yay!

Was it an outfit day or a hair/makeup day today?

4)  Celebrate small accomplishments.  The other day I rocked two carts all the way through Target with nobody crying and got all the kids buckled and the groceries in the car.  And then I shut the doors and did a Mary Catherine Gallagher “Tada!” Big finish. 

5) Separate the day into manageable portions.  If you wake up in the morning and think 11 hours until bedtime, you’re not going to have a good day.  We do three or four sections in our days.  Morning, noon naps, afternoon until 6, 6 to bedtime.  That way I don’t get worn out by afternoon and start checking the clock.  Assess yourself according to the smaller sections rather than the whole day, that way when some disaster happens it’s limited to that part of the day.  Morning good, naps bad, afternoon great, bedtime fair.

I love the gym.  2 hours of babysitting.

6)  Sequester yourself when frustrated.  Sometimes you need a Mama time out.  I take them with my iphone, headphones or hiding in the laundry room.  Whatever it takes to avoid knocking heads together.

Attempted Christmas card photo session yesterday.  Fail.

7)  Cave.  Sometimes your peace of mind is more important than good parenting.  Do whatever it takes to keep them happy in situations that have the potential to become nightmarish.  Fighting against the messy candy?  Eh, give up.  Sure it teaches them to argue and cajole, but it gets me out of the checkout line with less problems. 

 

8)  Know your kid’s limits.  Plan days around what they can do reasonably without having complete meltdowns.  Don’t overdo it.  Say we go to the Oakland zoo and the kids spot the rides.  Just do the top half of the zoo and the rides. 

 

9)  Make your kids your allies.  Nobody likes fussy kids, even other kids.  When one is crying the others know that they have to take turns crying.  If Jude is crying, Mimi will try to help solve his problem.  If Si is crying Jude and Mimi both are concerned and try to help.  Thankfully my babies aren’t horribly fussy so the other kids know that when someone is crying there’s really a problem to be solved.

Spot the three kids.  Want to sit by me in church? 

10) Have a daily sleep/eat schedule, even on the weekends.  it’s fine if you have to deviate but it’ll help you know why your kid is acting nasty when you’re off your regular schedule.  Kids like routines.

Rainy day cuddle fest.

11)  There is nothing better than the promise of a babysitter.  Life is better when you know next time you’re leaving, it doesn’t seem like you’ll be with the kids every minute of every day for the rest of their lives.  You will be nicer to your kids if you know that at 6 pm you’re off duty.  Kinda like how it feels to know that class is out at a certain time.  It only takes me about an hour to start to miss them and wonder about their well being.  So I try to stay out a LOT of hours.

12)  Score meals outside the house.  Three meals at home every day is too hard and too messy.  Hit your family up for food or eat out somewhere where the kids can be messy.  I also take them to nice restaurants if they have fast service.

13)  When it get's too hard, become highly amused not angry.  Sometimes I overstay our time at grocery stores or activities and everybody is starting to freak out.  I refuse to let my kids embarrass me so I turn it into a funny scream session with “Everybody Scream” or start dancing to the noise so I can address the problem and also make it more of an amusing spectacle than an annoyance.  Being a mother of three tiny kids (obviously completely my responsibility) is like belonging to a circus.  Make it a funny one.

Love these babies, My Echo, My Shadow and Mimi.

And my MOST USEFUL tip that I use nearly every single day:

14) Life could be MUCH HARDER or Paige Can Do This, So Can I. None of my kids are currently sick or have any special needs.  I like to think of somebody who has a harder life than mine and remind myself that if they can do it, so can I.  Mine’s usually Paige.  Or Jen G.  Or Marie Mad.  Or Mardee.  These women all have kids close in age and a few of them have multiples or kids with hard issues (serious allergies and whatnot).   They are doing a bang up job and if they can do it, dammit so can I.  I’d be flattered if you used me: “Nor has three tiny kids AND had an awesome awesome marriage and she seems to manage well enough.  Kind of.  When I see her, anyway.”

Three Babies

Can you name them?

They look completely unique to me.

29 and All Is Well

Once upon a time I was awesome.
Halloween 2004: dressed as the golden bond girl from 'Goldfinger'

This is my last year of my twenties. It's been a good decade. Tomorrow is my 29th Birthday (my last birthday ever!)

Decade Reflection:

2001: 20 years old. Living in Los Angeles, going to school at SMC. Dating like a crazy woman. Met my best friend Alex.

2002: 21 yrs. Had great group of LDS friends in LA who threw me a surprise party (despite the fact that I hate surprises). Transferred to UCLA. Dated a guy 10 years older than me. Went to London for Shakespeare study abroad with UCLA. Met celebrities on a weekly basis, just hanging out in Hollywood. Went to clubs and lived it up. Glory days.

2003: 22 yrs. Had bad reputation in LA 1st ward. Graduated from UCLA, got job teaching right away at Audubon Middle School in South Central LA. Started dating non-member guy who almost converted. Got my own apartment in West Hollywood.

2004: 23 yrs. Met Dx at LA 1st in June, after my first year of teaching and his last year of law school. Had the summer of love where we went out all night and met for breakfast every day at noon. Greatest summer of my life. Engaged in October, married on New Year's. Still teaching. Moved to Hollywood.

2005: 24 yrs. Applied and then went to grad school in London at King's College, University of London to study Shakespeare. Quit job teaching. Spent summer in Dville, liquidated everything we had and then moved. Dx landed a job at a prestigious law firm. Dx and I hit 14 countries or so that year. Christmas in Rome. We were in a play together at King's.

2006: 25 yrs. Got really really baby hungry. And sad. Missed my family, it was really cold in London. We traveled all over Europe. I wrote my master's thesis and a self-help book called Good Girl's Guide to Life After High School. In May we found out we were expecting and moved back to Dville. Dx got a good job, we moved to WC.

2007: 26 yrs. Had Mimi. Life changed forever. Could not believe I had accomplished childbirth, and not only that but I was good at it! Greatest baby in the whole wide world. Got job as a professor in PH. Pregnant with baby 2 in November. Dx started his own law practice.

2008: 27 yrs. Moved to house in Dville. Had baby Jude in August. Taught choreography and English writing. Raised 2 babies.

2009: 28 yrs. Taught, raised 2 babies. Dx travelled a lot. Had live-in nanny and housekeeper! Went to Tokyo in May. Found out about baby #3 in June. Phil got married. Moved in with parents in September, had baby Silas after Christmas. Three babies in less than three years. Woot.

At the beginning of my twenties I evaluated myself by how much of the world I'd seen and what I was able to accomplish. I was really motivated by hard things: getting into UCLA, teaching somewhere really challenging, going to a great grad school, publishing a book, going to exotic lands. The transition into being a stay-at-home mother has been a shock to my psyche. My accomplishments now feel so much more mundane: I got everybody out the door on time, I spent one on one time with Mimi, I understood what Jude was trying to communicate, I helped Silas' diaper rash improve. As busy as I am with three and the challenges they present, I still feel a little less like myself when someone asks me, "What did you do today?" And I reply "Tended my kids." It feels good to slow down, to not worry that I didn't leave the house at all for two days and have nothing to do but swing my arms on Saturdays. I've become a homebody and I like it. Mine is a simple life right now.