All posts in She’s Crying Again

Highlights Badge of Shame

Tomorrow is the first day on the new job, or, as I like to call it, The Inevitable March Toward My Unveiling As A Complete Fraud.

I don’t know about all of you, but I feel like every job I’ve ever accepted was something I talked people into during the interview. Because let’s be honest – I can talk a good game. But when push comes to shove, I’m not always certain I have the follow-through. These people really think I can do what I say I can do. When my new boss sent me a congratulatory email, I responded by saying “I hope to live up to my self-promotion.” At least I’m not without honor.

One thing that’s weighing on my for tomorrow is my hair. I’m pretty low-maintenance looks-wise, and my role in this world is to set the bar low for myself so that others may feel more stylish and put together. YOU’RE WELCOME, WORLD. But it was with joy that I pulled up to the salon on Friday evening to get my grays covered. The night before, I was talking at dinner about how excited I was to get my hairs did, and The Son chimed in with “Yeah, Mom, I hate to say it, but I was walking behind you the other day and man, you really have a lot of gray hair.”

Current Husband looked at him and said, “Son, I need to teach you how to talk to women. And that is not it.”

But alas, he’s right. So I walked into the hair place and said, “I’m here to see Jaimie!” and the receptionist looked at me blank-faced and said, “Um, she’s in her last appointment for the night.” Oh no she’s not! She has to make my hair First Day Ready! And then she dropped the bomb. “Your appointment was last night. We tried to call you and nothing picked up.”

DAMN. IT. ALL. TO. HELL.

I put it in my calendar wrong. (Not so detail-oriented, new boss! Please make a note of it!) And now I have Neapolitan hair with a nice watermark running through it. UGH.

hair diagram

Color grow-out mark indicated by red lines, patches of renegade gray hairs in the blue circles.
It’s everywhere, people.

 

What this hair says to people is: “I’m too cheap to schedule my color every six weeks, and instead push it to 10-12 weeks, thus growing out my color to a Madonna-like level.” I am wearing my badge of highlighting shame.

Also? My daughters each told me tonight that my breath smells bad. Youngest Daughter said she couldn’t decide if it was my sweater or my breath that reeked during Mass, but then I started singing and apparently the breath won. Freaking kids.

I also ate my way through the weekend, so when I take my new security badge photo tomorrow, which will be with me for THE DURATION OF MY CAREER WITH THIS COMPANY, it will be with me busting out of my pants and Patch Adams grown-out highlights Badge of Shame hair. I can only hope it’s from a such as distance you can’t see my hair, because the photographer will be avoiding my Roadkill Breath.

Little blessings, People. Little blessings.

Hope you have an awesome week, Wifers.

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I Still Love Princess Di

Last weekend, I took the girls to see the Princess Diana exhibit at the Putnam Museum.

diana exhibit

Can I just tell you how much I still love Princess Di? Read more…

Awesome Monday. Weird, Huh?

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving and loaded up during the Nationally Sanctioned Day of Gluttony. And thanks. My mother-in-law cooked, which was pretty spectacular as always, and then we went to my other mother-in-law’s and let her feed me too. One of these days they’ll catch on to me. *burp*

I did dream that I married Vince Vaughn over the weekend, which was probably a combination of eating too much (because he seems like a dude who would indulge) and pimping his movie “Delivery Man,” which I still stand by as a thumbs up.

The weekend was kick-ass all over, including watching The Son play some awesome basketball in his tournament (NOTE TO MEN: Quit scheduling your damn sports stuff on holiday weekends! I like watching them play, but you’re killing me!) and we played cards with the kids and put up the tree and the lights on the house, did some hardcore sleeping in and coffee drinking, and generally hung out.

This morning, I thought “Screw You, Monday” because I wanted more of the sleeping in and hanging out, and I’m Read more…

Flying Out of Logan Today

Today, Current Husband is flying home from Boston. He’s boarding a flight at Logan International Airport this morning, the same airport where most of the hijackers boarded American Airlines Flight 11 and United Flight 175. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious. I know nothing will happen to him. I know he’s safe. But still.

The people who boarded those planes at Logan on September 11, 2001 knew nothing would happen to them. They knew they were safe. Until they weren’t.

I’m sure most of us who are older than 18 can remember where we were that morning, watching the news in horror, and then in fear, and then in tears. For days. I couldn’t turn it off, but had to leave the room because I didn’t want Oldest Daughter, who was four, and The Son, who was two, to see it. I remember thinking Thank God PBS was still running their regular schedule. I distinctly remember just wanting to hold my kids, and thinking over and over “Thank God we’re all together” and praying for the families of those who were lost that day. My heart just ached for them, as it aches now. Twelve years probably feels like the blink of an eye and an eternity to them. This is why I want to remember. Because there are still people hurting out there. Because the hijackers wanted to cause pain. To cause suffering. To take away the joy in life, and the joy that it is to be an American, and replace it with fear and pain.

I want to remember because in those terrible days, it was crystal clear what is important to me in this world: Current Husband. Oldest Daughter. The Son. When she joined us, Youngest Daughter. Our parents. Our siblings. Friends. Families. God. What is most important, what gives YOU joy, is going to perhaps be different from mine, and different from everyone else’s. But figure out what that is, and embrace it. One of the lessons of September 11 is that life is, indeed, short. And unpredictable. So embrace the joy.

Today, Current Husband is flying home from Logan International Airport. I know nothing will happen to him. And I’m going to be so grateful that we’ve been given another day as a family together.

God Bless those who gave up their lives on September 11, 2011, and help their families to find peace. We will never forget.

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