Thursday, October 26, 2006

It's Gotta Be the Hair.

This was Arlo's third time getting his hair cut at the salon. You might find that surprising, since he's only two, but this kid has got HAIR, man. It's lush, long, and grows like mold on the bread we left sitting on our countertop when we went on vacation.

This time, I asked for a haircut that would lend itself well to being styled in a pompadour, as I am going to try to dress Arlo up for Halloween as something in the realm of Elvis-to-fifties greaser/biker-to John Travolta as Danny Zucco. You know, the sensitive tough guy type. The kind who can get shot from only the waist up on national T.V., due to his wildly gyrating lower regions, but also turn around and sing "Crying in the Chapel" to the slobbering delight of schoolgirls and housewives all the world 'round.

Amy did a fantastic super awesome job on the haircut, and Arlo sat nicely in the chair, grasping his steamed milk ("coffee") from the coffee shop next door with both hands and looking very solemn.

Amy asked if I was going to shampoo his hair that night, and I said "of course!" because I definitely wanted to have Arlo's hair styled, with Product. It was awesome. He was so cute, so tough, such a good boy.

But then...

I think something happened when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked pretty impressed with his new bad-boy image, and though he was pretty compliant all the way home--even when we stopped at K-Mart to pick up some diapers--I'm pretty sure that he was plotting my downfall the entire time.

As soon as we walked in the door at home, He fell apart.

I can't even tell you what the trigger was. The next hour was a series of fits--screaming, crying, kicking, running away, closing himself in his own closet. We tried to put him in a time-out in his crib, but he climbed out by himself. For the first time. That actually calmed him down for a few minutes, because he was so pleased with himself. He came walking out into the hallway, where Ted and I were slumped against the wall, and said "I got down."

The evening culminated in Arlo actually attempting to climb back INto his crib, and asking me if he could "go night-night now?"

I let him go to bed, even though his hair was a helmet of Aveda Anti-humectant Pomade and Firmata hairspray. Even though his dinner consisted of a sugar cookie and some sweet steamed milk from the coffee shop. Even though he would not allow us to put pants on him. (He takes off his pants when he gets mad sometimes.)

I lifted him from his perch, clinging to the rails of his crib from the outside, and laid him down in his bed.

"Do you want your blanket on?"


"Do you want a kiss?"


"Do you want your music on?"


"Okay, then. Night night, honey."

"Mommy, go away."

Ladies and Gentlemen, I died a slow, painful death when he said that last night. I am still dying today, I think. My little boy's all grown up and he rocks a pompadour Like No Other.

The Motherhood Manifesto

Tuesday, October 24, 2006


A front-page article appeared in the Daily Iowan today on the topic of scooter parking in Iowa City. (Click the picture at left to read the full article.)
My response:
The DI reports, "He said he occasionally parks illegally in bike racks or in between parallel-parked cars, especially on Dubuque Street."

I was told by a city parking enforcement person that it is legal to park scooters in city bike racks, as long as it's actually IN the rack, and not next to it.

It's appalling that some scooter drivers are not able to drive safely and courteously when parking their vehicles at the bike racks. They should be punished, but their conscientious scooter-driving peers should not.

I would like to point out, also, that it's just as common to get "nearly bowled over" by a person riding their bicycle down the sidewalk to the bike rack. Perhaps we should consider moving the bike racks or providing easier access by ramps, so that neither bikes nor mopeds have to use the pedestrian area of the sidewalk to park.

Scooters and mopeds are a positive addition to our town, and we should not take steps to increase the difficulty of using one in Iowa City. These vehicles ease general parking congestion, reduce pollution, use less gas, cause less wear and tear to city streets, and give people mobility at a relatively low cost. Let's work on making the city friendlier and safer for people on 2-wheeled vehicles.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

One More Day

Here we are, on the second-to-last day of our Florida vacation. It's going to be hard to come home, as the weather has been incredible. Or, as Ted would say, incredibly hot. Near record highs for October. I'm tickled, because I can really scratch my sun itch. So, in case you wondered, this is what we look like on vacation:

Here's a shot of all four kiddos--from left to right, Anita, Michael, and David (my sister Carrie's kids), with Arlo (duh) sitting in the front with Turtle.
And here's the whole gang.
I'll share more pictures when I get back home. Oh, and if you're reading this post and thinking about robbing or ransacking my house, I got home yesterday. And I'm sitting at home typing this right now, with my hungry pit bull sitting next to me and my shotgun across my lap. In case you're wondering.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Captivating Kate

I know, this is so random. But isn't she something?

Monday, October 09, 2006

Hawkeye Homecoming

Painting the Town Red

Saturday night. Me -n- Erika, sowing some wild oats while we're still young.
Thanks, Kimmay, for providing the pic!

Friday, October 06, 2006

How do you like them apples?

Last weekend, we took advantage of some stupendous autumn weather and went out to Wilson's Apple Orchard with Arlo's good buddy, Piers, and our friends (also Piers' parents) Joel and Sandie. I hijacked these photos from their blog.

This is about the only time Arlo actually walked on his own two feet during the apple adventure.

Monkey see...

Monkey do!

And the classic "Monkey put in monkey's mouth, even when it's not edible."

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I Must Be Ovulating

I know, I know, it's already too much information. God help me, though, I believe my hormones are out of control.

Why, you ask?

When was the last time you found yourself having impure thoughts inspired by the flap on a box of Wheat Thins?


Closing in on the Weekend...

You know, therapy is so time-consuming. Listen here to learn about the wonder drug that works wonders.