The Gray Growth

Like my father before me, I went gray in my thirties. It wasn’t noticeable until recently when I took the plunge to cover the gray and in doing so, I committed myself to maintenance schedule. 

In another time another beauty requirement to my routine would not have been a problem. I had the time, money, and most of all, the vanity to lead the way in quest for outer beauty. 

Decades later while I still struggle to find a new and more evolved fashion identity I am not driven as I once was. The occasional mani-pedi and the monthly box of Target hair dye was and is enough. 

But is it?

I get a lot of compliments on my hair color. The color ranges from a dark auburn to a light brown depending on what hair color I buy in a box. The color stays for a few weeks until it starts to fade… in a good way. This dark burgundy is fading which means I have a cool Deadpool red amongst my black and gray roots.

Gray.

I looked up different shades of black and gray and found that some women are wearing a black gray ombré. Others have even mixed in silver.

Then a light bulb went off in my head. Could I pull it off? Do I dare? Even if I don’t like it, I could go to Target and get another box, right?

There is a yearning for me to return to what’s natural even if it’s been so long that I’m not quite sure what natural is anymore. Maybe this change will help transition my hair for what’s to come. Now if only I can bring myself to pay more than ten bucks for this change, I’ll be set. 

Gah, even now I look at this picture and I cringe. Oh well. It’s not like you’re seeing this in person and even if you did I’d trust you not to stare. Thanks, kind reader of inconsistent blog. Aren’t you an optimist?

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The Couch Challenge

The girls and I are off track this month (that’s year-round talk for a third of our “summer vacation”; we’ll be off track again in April) but the whole family has been celebrating for a couple of weeks.


You’ll notice someone missing from these pics… my husband! 

He’s almost halfway done with university but couldn’t afford to miss any classes and time from homework. 

Quite honestly, I think he was relieved to not come with us to the Happiest Place in Earth. We (I) take advantage of military discounts, including a great rate at the Disneyland Hotel where we started staying after R’s accident so he didn’t have to trek too far if he needed a break from the parks. Anyone who stays at the Resort hotels can get into the parks AN HOUR BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE. 

And as you may or may not have noticed, I can be a little…

Intense.


I like to be in line before everyone else– we are in an line an but before the park opens.

I like to bring food from home– we bring pop tarts and fruit and drinks into the park.

I like to have a schedule.

I can’t help it.

But I can’t also help but notice that we were all quickly getting exhausted from early wake up calls and late nights so on the third day, we swam.


I would’ve had a drink too if I weren’t so hyped up about the next day. We surprised grandma with a special breakfast with some special people.


It was amazing and exhausting and was happy that R didn’t mind too much. 

Fast forward a week and here I am, updating my blog that I have neglected while everyone sleeps. R has to wake up at 4 am and the boy still has school. I was about to retreat to my favorite couch in the loft because I don’t want to wake up to R’s alarm when what to my wandering eyes should appear?

Three sleeping children without a sofa for me!

I thought about waking them and sending them to their beds because I surely didn’t want to wake up when R did.

But then I realized that if that is my biggest problem, I am pretty lucky.

The First Day Abnormalcy

While most kids around the United States are sleeping in all summer, some are getting ready to go back to school!

I teach at a year round school and am fortunate to work at the same school my daughters attend. What’s even better is that I’m now full time! 

However it is way past midnight on the night before the first day of school and I’m still awake. 

You’d think that because this is my eighth “First Day of School”, I would be alright but no, I’m not.

Well, I am but it’s very exciting and terrifying and as you know, that combination results in too much thinking into the wee hours of the morning. 

Here are some pics of the classroom I’m sharing with a colleague and friend (who recently had a baby girl)…


We are doing a superhero theme and I so wish for the ability to fall asleep right now!

Good night! 

The Arcade Ambiguity

Most of the time my husband and I are a good match. He listens to my incessant talking and I listen to his thoughts on history and the Bible. I like the orange Starburst candies and hate the pink ones. He is the opposite so we trade.

Most of the time we are a good match.

Most of the time.

Now, hear this, I’m not here to air my dirty laundry. I’m not.

I just noticed that lately we’ve been letting stuff slide. Things that make him angry, things that make me stew, things that we have been avoiding just so we can sweep issues under the rug.

But we can’t do that.

Because in the end it only makes things worse.

It’s easier to ignore comments, pretend you don’t feel the way you do. It’s way easier than actually confronting the person. 

No one likes confrontation. No one wants it. 

But we need it.

I’d rather we talk about stuff and not let it sit. I’d rather have the difficult conversation now before we forget why we’re arguing, before we forget why we love each other.

I’m not going to go into specifics but the only way I could verbalize what was happening between us was to picture that old arcade game Dig Dug. It’s a game where you are digging your way to destroy monsters before they destroy you but the funny thing about that game is that no matter how weak your tunnels are, the tunnel never collapses. 

Marriage is NOT like Dig Dug. We have to fight the same monsters, not each other. Despite all the digging we do, it will come crashing down if we are not careful. I’ve never said I was perfect and if you think about it, my husband and I have not been married under the same roof for very long. It’s still new to the both of us. It’s up to us to make sure we don’t make monsters of each other. 

The Lactose Latitude

Earlier this week my husband’s maternal grandfather lost his battle to Alzheimer’s. Yesterday we made our way across three states to the beautiful state of Utah.


We visited with his parents and his grandmother late last night and they seem to be doing well. The funeral is scheduled for tomorrow morning. 

I have never been to a non-Catholic wake or funeral so I feel a little uncomfortable. Not because I don’t want to be here or at a non-Catholic wake but because when someone passes it is always a difficult situation. I am unfamiliar with the customs and traditions of my husband’s family. But we are here for them. 

We have offered to take care of lunch in the only way we can in the form of cheap pizzas. My mother in law cooked for 60 people yesterday so I hope this alleviates a little stress for the family. 

Speaking of which, a visit to the grocery store in search of nongreasy and semi-healthy food was extremely necessary. Now I’ve been eating a near-vegan diet for a couple of weeks with a couple of meat-eating days, here and there. But I’ve really felt the painful and at times, nauseating difference for the past two days. One, for indulging in Mexican food for a graduation party and two, for a grease filled day on the road yesterday. My body is not recovering like it used to. Dietary rules have gone out the window during travel and just for the overall gratitude that his family is feeding us. 

My husband’s grandfather was always kind to me, both he and his wife wholly embracing me and my family. While he will be missed by his large and extended family, his battle was a long and suffering. We will pray for him. 

Our view from our hotel room

Passing through Nevada 


UPDATE: The eight pizzas were scarfed down by 3 dozen people, including a dozen kids! Our greeting from the kids (all of whom I had never met before) when we pulled up was, “PIZZAS!” I lol’d.

The Waiting Room Rumination

I rounded the parking lot for the second time in a row. I didn’t mind the long walk to the back of the hospital where the ER entrance was located but I knew my husband R wouldn’t let me get the car for him after he was released. He would insist on walking to the car. 

We are currently in hour 4 of waiting to be seen. I repeat, we are currently in hour 4.

R has experienced a lot of trauma from the accident as well as all of the surgeries proceeding so when he started to experience pain that didn’t go away this morning, he was mildly concerned. 

I went to work that afternoon and was waiting for the girls to get out of band when he texted me:

I am going to the ER after I pick up the boy.

I called him and immediately we had the conversation that is constantly on loop:

  • Maybe I should go to the ER.
  • No, I don’t need to go.
  • If I go, you don’t need to come. I can drive myself.
  • Wait, the pain is the same.
  • Maybe I’ll just wait until tomorrow. 

So fast forward lots of phone calls to friends and my mom to cover kid duty including errands, dinner, and bedtime.

We are still here.

  
I must be getting better at this. As soon as R checked himself in, I made a beeline for the Starbucks in the hospital. In an effort to save money and calories, I have avoided going out for coffee in a couple of weeks. Tonight, I savored every drop of my soy tuxedo. 

An hour later, R said he was hungry. I knew my mission: To find the Mexican restaurant we visited last time before they closed and before it got too dark for me to be out all alone.

Turned out, he didn’t want to eat yet. I mean, really, no one wants to eat in an ER! 

So here we are. His burrito patiently awaits his return in the car. My nachos, however, are long gone. 

And finally, after four long hours, R’s name has been called. I made the mistake of asking if I should go with him.

Of course, I should!

But he scurried off before I could realize my mistake.

Don’t worry. I’ll make my way back there. After all, I’m really good at this.

The Moment of Pride Theory

  

I went to see my doctor today. Since going off my pills in the fall, I had gained thirty pounds and my blood pressure had gone up twenty points in the past year. 

“Why did you go off your pills?” he asked. 

I told him that I didn’t know and that I felt like I had to be off of them. I wanted to see a therapist to help me figure out if I  needed to go back on my pills. 

I guess I knew in my heart is probably need to be on them of the rest of my life but I thought I would have a sense of pride when I stopped taking them, knowing I didn’t need them anymore.

I didn’t. 

There was no shining moment of pride. Only months of despair since I’ve taken my last half dose. Months that were thrown down a deep dark well. 

All I knew is that I wanted to be alone all the time, even contemplated a separation from my husband. It was like my head was the Pixar movie, Inside Out, only…

Only Joy was dead. Anger ruled. Disgust and Sadness sometimes came to play but Anger didn’t like that. It was just easier to let Anger run the show.

But now here I am in the doctor’s office, feeling only Sadness. 

Last year when I saw him he said that sometimes people need help with chemical balances in their head like someone who needed to wear glasses. That person with less-than-perfect vision couldn’t just decide one day they weren’t going to wear their glasses. 

This year he gave the same analogy and I told him that the analogy made sense to me last year.

“Then why did you stop?”

I didn’t know. I think I felt like I wasn’t a regular person if I was taking them, less-than-perfect only I do wear glasses. You can talk about depression and anxiety on the Internet and in theory but I can’t talk to anyone about this in person. No one gets it. Sometimes I feel like I have to prove that yes, my depression is very real but why should I? Hence, my need for a referral to see a therapist. 

My doctor gave me a list of resources and told me not to fret. Outsiders might scoff at his last bit of advice but those in my shoes understand.

We understand too well. Overthinking our way into and through every situation. The sooner I accept this, the sooner maybe my mind will be at peace.