What the Heck? Wednesday: Yes, I’m Still Blond

I’m sure that most of you know that about a month ago, I went out on a limb and finally ditched the blond hair I’d sported for a good 15 years or so and decided it was time for my darker side to come out. I have to admit, I am really enjoying my new look. It just seems to fit me so much better than the blond these days and is such a welcome change. However, I may officially be a brunette, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost all of my blond qualities.

First of all, I may not have the blond hair to go with it, but I’m still having more fun. In fact, I’ve been having a blast lately and I am just absolutely loving the whole vibe that 2010 is putting out so far. I feel like there are changes happening for the better in my little corner of the world, and they are really welcome changes, and I feel like things in my life are finally starting to fall into place and make sense.

Second, my hair may be brown, but apparently that doesn’t excuse me from continuing to have “blond moments” once in a while.

My little guy has been very sick this week with a terrible cough and fever. On Monday, I made an appointment to take him back to the doctor to hopefully get some antibiotics that he so desperately needed. (I pretty much had to hit the doctor over the head with a frying pan to get the prescription, but that’s another story for another post). I got my son all bundled up in his coat and hat for the appointment, put him in the car, went around to the driver’s side, got in my car, and pressed the little button on the remote to open the garage door. Then I turned on the engine and my seat warmer, and backed out of the garage. And that is when I heard a huge crash. And that is when I realized that I’d backed out of the garage before the garage door was all the way up. And that is when I realized that part of that garage door may or may not be hanging from the roof of my Jeep Liberty. And that is when I started to panic a little. What the heck?

I turned the engine off and told my son to “hang in there because Mommy needed to go check something out”, and went to inspect the damage I’d done. I was so relieved to find that the door was not hanging from the roof of my car, but it wasn’t exactly all the way up either and it looked kinda bent in the middle. I hit the button again to see if I could get it to lift, and that is when I discovered that I had knocked it off the track and that it was permanently stuck about halfway up, which meant that there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to back out of the garage, which meant that there was no way in hell that I was going to get my son to his doctor’s appointment, which meant there was no way in hell I was going to get him any drugs. What the heck?

I immediately went into “Mama Bear” mode at that moment because I was getting my son to that doctor’s appointment come hell or high water, or in this case, come hell or busted garage door. I saw in the bottom left corner where this metal pin had come out of whatever hole it was supposed to be in, so I went to work trying to bang it back into place and shove it back into the hole. Long story short, I eventually got it back in there enough where the door would go up and I could at least get out of the garage and get my son to the pediatrician, and I figured that the hubster could just deal with the residual damage when he got home that night. The guy loves a good project, so I figured I was actually doing him a favor (at least that’s what I told myself).

I was SO proud of myself for temporarily fixing the door that I kind of jumped up and down and did a little dance and was all set to hop in the car and get on my way, when I realized that my hands were completely covered in grease and my palms were totally black. I had visions of walking into the ped’s office and the receptionist seeing my filth and immediately telling me to “have a seat ma’am” and then shutting that little window separating her from the waiting room and picking up the phone and calling DCS on my ass. I may or may not have started to cry a little at that point, and I raced back into the house and into the half-bath and tried washing the grease off with the bright green Kan-doo soap that my son uses. When that failed (it didn’t even make a dent), I grabbed the container of hand scrub that I love using all winter that exfoliates and conditions at the same time and makes my hands silky soft (I may or may not sell the stuff part-time on the side at craft-fairs and such), scooped out a big gob of it, and started scrubbing away. And that’s when I felt the burning and stinging. You see, this miracle scrub is a salt based scrub, and when you get salt in an open wound, it hurts like hell. That’s when I looked down and realized that during my frantic attempt to do a half-assed repair of the garage door, I’d totally cut my fingers up. What the heck?

I didn’t get all of the grease off, but I figured that I looked clean enough and I did finally manage to make it to my son’s appointment on time. And the receptionist actually laughed at my little story and gave me some super-cool Daffy Duck band-aids for my mangled fingers. Of course, before we left the house, I couldn’t get the garage door to shut all the way, so I absolutely expected to find some sort of little “critter” hiding out in my garage and possibly picking through the trash cans waiting for me when I got home. What the heck?

(In case you were wondering, I got lucky on that one. The garage remained critter free and the hubster was able to fix the door no problem).

I’m happy to report that after two days of those antibiotics that I had to practically sell my soul for, the little man is doing so much better and is finally starting to act like himself again. I made the decision to keep him out of preschool yesterday since I’m not one of those moms who sends a sick kid to school to infect all of the other kids in his class, (although I may or may not have brought my son to a birthday party last weekend knowing full well that he had a cough and that it may or may not be the best idea, but that past Friday the doc had assured me that it was just post-nasal drip and that he wasn’t contagious. Hmmm…I think I may be in the market for a new pediatrician because now two of the kids from the party have the same thing as my son and their sympathetic, kind mother assured me that her kids did not catch the cough from my kid, but from her because she is a teacher and probably brought it home to them because so many kids in her class are sick right now. God I love her)!

Ok, getting back to that missed day of preschool for my little man. I made the mistake last week of telling him that Tuesday was going to be “the best day ever” at school because they were going to read Dr. Seuss and make Green Eggs and Ham!! For real, they actually make Green Eggs and Ham on this special day, and I know this for a fact because when my son and I went to visit this preschool last year, we happened to show up on Green Eggs and Ham day. I will never forget those cute little kids sitting around the circle and watching the teacher in complete awe of how she made those eggs green. And I just couldn’t wait for my little guy to experience it. And neither could he. And because of his stinkin’ cough he didn’t get to go yesterday. What the heck?

Maybe I’ll go out and buy some green food coloring today to try and make up for it.

A couple weeks ago, the hubster and I started the South Beach diet and I was really hoping to shed the seven pounds that I gained over the holidays so that my clothes would somewhat fit again. I got about four off, and then everything sort of came to a halt. Apparently I just have no self-control this month, so South Beach has gone completely out the window in favor of whatever this hogfest is that I seem to be indulging in. I spent half the day yesterday searching through my closet, drawers, and the laundry room for my favorite pair of “fat jeans” from Old Navy. They even have gold embellishments on the back pockets and look almost designer when paired with the right cropped blazer.