Mom hair

I think one of the first things I said when I found out I was pregnant, after the "holy shit" and "is it normal for meat to smell like dried cat vomit?" was "you will see me eat dried cat vomit before I get mom hair."

I had seen too many fallen comrades, former long haired glamour-pusses who birthed that baby and marched straight to the salon for a whack job. It wasn't having the baby that made them a mom; the extermination of long waves and sheets of hair that blanketed the shoulders sealed the deal. My sweet little naive self assumed that I would do things differently, as if it had never even occurred to these poor, harried mamas that they could actually keep their hair.

I have had long hair since, well, I don't really remember a time that it wasn't. Over the years I've flirted with the idea of cutting it off and was always admonished by the stylist for being silly. A curly haired girl like me? If I want to look like Pat from SNL? Sure, go ahead. And then there was the whole Samson, hair = power thing. I have always been identified by my hair. My very big curly hair. Would I still be pretty? Confident? Would the guy standing behind me in line be curious to know the face under that short 'do? (Yes, my vanity knows no bounds)

And then I was photographed yesterday looking like this:



I called Grace and booked my appointment.

Nearly 15 months postpartum and living in a city that feels like the inside of an exhaust pipe spewing vaseline, I owe an apology to every mom I judged for going under the scissors. It is just too much work for so little payoff, and honestly, I was just too curious to see what I might look like, Pat be damned. I marched over to Hi Gorgeous, and with my heart in my throat, I ordered her to cut it off. I emerged air conditioned, lighter, more than a little freaked out. But here it is, all freshly blown out and bang-y.

I have now been corrected several times that my hair is technically still long, but that shit is straight, y'all. I have yet to do the whole wash and go curly 'do where my hair shrinks up about 3 inches.

Even more vanity, originally uploaded by medusahead.

The haircut

The haircut, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Girly-girl

Harlow's necklace, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Have you met my teenager? They grow up so fast whatever yeah uh huh.

But do you see this girl?

She likes putting on necklaces and bracelets and rings. Mama's shoes. My blush. My purse.

What you don't see on her are the 14 or so mosquito bites that look like the mumps. Not only is she amazingly grownup but very, very delicious.

I witnessed a mosquito fly into our car two seconds after the door was opened and bite her shoulder. It got her face before I could kill it. Getting her out of her carseat and to the door is like something out of a horror movie. I footballed carried the poor thing to the front door and fumbled with my keys to open it.

A f-ing mosquito landed on her shoulder and bit her.

We are surrounded.

Earnestine & hazel's

Earnestine & hazel's, originally uploaded by medusahead.

After the photo shoot...and the soul burger.

Blackberries

First blackberries of the summer, originally uploaded by medusahead.

When I was pregnant, all I wanted was fruit. Oranges, apples, plums, pluots, nectarines. And oh the berries! Blue kinds. Black kinds.. Red rasp kinds.

Here is Harlow having her first taste of blackberries. Her face? That's how fruit makes me feel on the inside.

Curtain call

Curtain call, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Waiting for her agent to call...

Weaning

So this weaning thing.

Baby girl is just shy of 15 months and we, I've decided it's time. We started nightweaning about a month ago and it went surprisingly well. She's been sleeping 10-12 hours most nights, and I'm getting something close to 7 or 8 as I am not the one who has to go to her at night anymore when she does wake. But the days are hard. Telling her no and watching her face crumple is excruciating. She is easily distracted by shiny objects and stays upbeat, but in those moments I feel like the worst mother in the world. How dare I refuse her?

If I wasn't depressed enough, the hormones are kicking my ass. About a month ago I bent over to pick something up and was overcome by a wave of nausea. I had barely stood up straight before I was at Walgreens buying pregnancy tests just to be sure. And to be really sure I took about 3. (By the way, yes, pee sticks are INSANELY expensive. So I understand why they are under lock and key at the Walgreens. But really? Under lock and key? So some dude has to sit there and shift back and forth and rattle his keys while I try to figure out which doohickey is the best bargain?) The nausea lingered long enough to make me concerned but faded before it turned into Something. And then I am just awful at remembering to take the zoloft at the same time everyday, and ooh man you just don't want to skip one of those. Dizziness, ickiness. I figured it was just the meds. But this getting sick happened 4 times in as many weeks. And I just now made the connection today that each time it coincided with me dropping a feeding. Because I am weaning "gradually" I figured that exempted me from feeling any side effects. But there is nothing gradual about a 5:30 AM feeding followed by a 7:30 PM one. My breast looked like it was made out of mashed potato and I tossed and turned from the heat coming out of my body. This morning I couldn't keep food down and was still fighting a queasy stomach through the afternoon.

The nausea finally left, but the sadness lingered. I'm ready. It's just so much harder when all I want to do is cry, eat m&ms and put a bag over my ugly head.

Hormones suck ass.

Spiderbaby

Because I have been living in writing/photography land, I've been slacking here, and I did not get around to shout outs to my beloved dad and my sweet, soulful baby daddy on their big day. For the man impossible to shop for, I whipped up a batch of my dad's favorite chocolate macaroons. For the second hardest man to shop for, I got sneaky. Caleb fell in love with a shark skin suit that he tried on at a Silverlake vintage store. Alas, he had just purchased a shark skin suit back in Memphis (the odds!) and didn't feel that he could justify this even shinier one. When he walked outside to show me just how much it shimmered in the sun, I knew it had to be his. I made up some stupid thing about leaving something back at the store, and the silly boy fell for it. The suit arrived just in time for him to try it on with every pair of shoes he owns and not wear it to brunch. Grandpa John celebrated an early Father's Day with us at Casa Sweazy. He helped hold down the fort while I was seminaring out in east memphis and got him a boatload of baby before his surgery today. If you're reading this, I hope you are feeling better, on some excellent painkillers, and doggedly working through that Netflix queue.

But what I really want to talk about is spiderbaby. It seems I have given birth to a latent superhero, or at least a tasty baby who is extremely appealing to spiders. She is not yet spraying webs when she pattycakes or walking up her bedroom wall; however, she has some very blistery, swollen, purplish bites that the doctor announced were not brown recluse bites but no less nasty looking. Poor sweet baby has been a trooper, appearing to barely notice them. They did not get in the way of her finding her groove in the disco room at the CMOM. They did not slow her down when she took my credit card from wallet, and in a perfect imitation of mama, swiped it on every wall and piece of furniture she came in contact with. And they did not stop her from deciding that I needed to be fed blueberries during our afternoon snack.

Just when I thought my heart couldn't get any more full, she goes and feeds me blueberries. I love me that baby.

Why I am Hiring a British Nanny

LA 2008

LA was...

yummy.

68 degrees.

Fun.

Busy.

From the airport we went straight to the Larchmont farmers market and got my tamale and some berries and some rotisserie chicken and had a lovely impromptu sidewalk picnic. W shopped at Punky Brewster's organic kids store. We frolicked in the lobby of the Roosevelt at 5 AM, just as the hipsters were coming in from their big night out. We lounged poolside with the plastic, tatted-up people and felt like celebrities as the kneesocked, booty-shorts waitresses oohed and ahhed over Harlow. We stayed at the cutest little apartment in Los Feliz and did lots of browsing in Sunset Junction. I ate madagascar vanilla gelato that made me want to cry it was so good. Trader Joes actually did make me cry because it is so good. I saw my lady friends. Jill and I got massages at Burke Williams and I got my hair blown out at Rudy's. I walked barefoot in the grass holding Harlow's hand. I bought jelly gladiator sandals and shoes for baby Suber. I had the best latte ever at Intelligentsia and a killer chocolate croissant at Susina.

Harlow tried to climb into Scott Wolf's lap at Comme Ca. I wanted to climb into my salad bowl after licking the plate. Good lord that city makes some yummy food.

And the very last thing I did before heading to the airport? One of my very favorite, super secret, super cheap things to do on a day when you need a pick me up.

I tried on wigs at the Hair Shop. For some reason the photo has disappeared from Flickr. Just picture me with long, ravishingly red locks. It'll make you feel better. It sure made me feel better.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Robin's Wedding

heather, originally uploaded by medusahead.

It was beautiful, dreamy and about 200 degrees in the shade. Here's one of my fave pics from the wedding, courtesy of my camera phone and a wee bit of photoshop.

More pics to come when I figure out this slideshow thingy...

Fierce

Fierce, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Why I love Alexa...and strange, lovely weddings.

My show!!

My show!!, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Wow.

Did last Friday actually happen?

Look how pretty this is!

Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who made the trek out to my show and for helping make such a memorable night possible.

If it really did happen.

Los Angeles

Los Angeles, originally uploaded by medusahead.

Stars were made. Dreams destroyed. Tamales eaten.

Stay tuned.

Sunday

So I have a crapload of pics to upload and a recap of my LA trip and MY BIG SHOW to write and a round up of the beautiful ungodly hot wedding I attended with the LA crew last night and lots of people to thank and honestly?

All I can think about was how absolutely shitty Indiana Jones and the blah blah Crystal Skull was.

Have you seen it? I'd heard the stories. That Frank Darabont had spent 2 years of his life writing a screenplay that Harrison Ford and Spielberg thought was brilliant, but little bratty George Lucas didn't. There was the interview I read with GL saying that all the critics were sharpening their knives because they were going to hate it, but he didn't care because he is George Lucas.

But then there was the trailer. There was the hat and the whip and the da duh da DAH! Duh duh DA! And Marion! and Indy getting the crap beat out of him! Cate Blanchett! Good times! It was my childhood and Milk Duds and Coke and summer and the promise of something wonderful.

My awesome, awesome friend Jill babysat Harlow so Caleb and I could catch it at the Cinerama Dome, one of our favorite old haunts. I got my Milk Duds, my coke, and 2 hours of absolute disappointment.

I don't want to say anything more for fear of spoiling it for those who haven't seen it. For those of you who have, what did you think? What do you think was the plot of that now-mythic Frank Darabont script?

What would you have done differently?

I'll take the winning plot suggestion, film it in claymation, dub it in Esperanto and stick it in my food processor and I bet you it would still kick IJATKOTCS's ass.

George, if you are lurking,please, please, please take me up on this.

Tonight

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

Tonight's the night.

See you there!

Unless I wake up and it turns out that this has all been a lovely dream.

Which means some of you might show up naked or cramming for that test you forgot to go to class for.

That would be cool.

Is it cool to start drinking before 9 AM?

Deep breaths.

California dreamin

California dreamin, originally uploaded by medusahead.