44

Worries

100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93…what if something is horribly wrong with him?…focus on the counting, Sarah, you’ve got to get some sleep…92, 91, 90, 89, 88……what if I missed something? is it my fault?….87, 86, 85, 84, 83, 82…..he doesn’t deserve this…81, 80, 79, 78, 76…sleep, Sarah, sleep…

The last four nights have been filled with what seems to be one million what ifs and numbers. In the past, counting backwards has always helped to drown out my worries and lead sleep to me in the midst of my jumbled thoughts. And although my method still managed to succeed, the sheer volume of numbers recited in my mind was staggering.

My tiny snowball of worry started with an apprehensive visit last Friday to one of our pediatrician’s associates (ours was out of the country), which quickly morphed into an immediate referral and appointment with a pediatric neurologist on Monday. I’m sure I don’t even need to explain how terrifying it is to hear a pediatrician explaining the types of neurological events and disorders she wants to rule out…you know, the ones that make the back of your neck start to sweat and your hands tremble. And to top it all off, the fact that you must wait until 2 pm on Monday to find these things out. 76 hours, to be exact.

My weekend was abysmal.

The days were decent, but I couldn’t help but dissolve into tears every night while staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. Many people read this entry I wrote for ParentDish coupled with some nervous twitters, and put two and two together about what was happening. I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it was to receive emails from friends and complete strangers telling me that we were in their thoughts. To all of you, I can’t thank you enough. Honestly.

Monday’s appointment finally arrived, and the neurologist was wonderful. Wito and Dr. M took to each other immediately. He filled us up with reassuring words, but thought it was important for us to see a sub-specialty in the neurological field in the near future. And by near future, I mean upon entering my home after the appointment, I answered my ringing phone and it was the sub-specialist’s office making an appointment for the next morning.

Yesterday morning, we buckled Wito into his car seat and drove to his third doctor’s appointment in five days. As we walked into the medical center, I looked down and this perfect little child, shuffling his feet and cooing to the trees, and felt horribly nervous for putting him through all of this. Of course, being the sweet toddler he is, he just looked at me, smiled and said “Bah!” (He is obsessed with saying bye right now.)

Three long hours later, we walked out with one of the most promising diagnoses we could have received. Wito should be just fine. Just fine.

This experience was definitely my foray into the serious worries of parenthood. However, we were one of the lucky ones. What about all of the parents who aren’t as lucky? The ones whose world is turned absolutely upside-down in the matter of a day? The ones dealing with life-threatening illnesses and life-altering diagnoses of their little ones?

To all of you who have dealt or are dealing with such situations, I just want to say that I am so sorry. It must be absolutely frightening what you are going through. It’s so hard to put into words, and I’m not trying to discount people without children’s feelings, but the love you feel for your child is different. It is different. It’s intensity can’t be described. Everything is in surround-sound; your happiness, fears, worries, joy, pride, guilt, everything.

Like I said, we were one of the lucky ones this time around. I won’t take that for granted.

With that said, I’m going to taking a break from Hair Thursdays until the new year. I’ll be leaving soon for an extended visit with my family (including my brand new nephew, Sam) and would like to focus a little more on my sweet boy over the holidays.

I’ll still be posting at ParentDish every day, and popping in here from time to time. (You just know an extended period with my family makes for excellent blog fodder.)

Once again, thank you for your thoughts and general awesomeness. Wito would also like me to tell y’all, “Bah!”

So, Bah!

27

hair thursday makeover 12

Thanks for all of the love, ladies. I’m telling you- your comments about my so-called young appearance could not come at a better time. I spent upwards of ten minutes this morning trying to brush a black “eyelash” off the corner of my eye, until I realized it was not an eyelash, but the deepest crow’s foot wrinkle in the history of the earth. Suckdom.

I love it when Hair Thursday participants do all of the work for me – especially after a rare night of martinis. Meet Veronique.
vero1.jpg

vero2.jpg

Veronique’s hair:

Naturally brunette with auburn highlights (doesn’t want to change and I agree)
Hair is a curly/straight hybrid that can’t make up it’s mind
Thinning in the front
Looks flat when it’s longer

Veronique is a kick-ass photographer with a fun sense of style and apparently, doesn’t need my help because she sent the absolute BEST photo of a possible hairstyle for herself.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. I’m just saying that so I can wuss out on the work of finding a suitable style for her, right? WRONG. I’m prepared to defend my choice! With the 59 million reasons WHY this hairstyle would look great on Veronique.

vero_options.jpg

Option #1 is the photo Veronique sent to me and #2 is a slightly more traditional variation of the same cut. They both are highly-layered and highly texturized, but #1 has more of an inverted shape and much heavier bangs.

Veronique seems to have the kind of hair that wants to be “in between”. In between lengths, in between curly and straight, in between thick and thin. Instead of forcing her hair one way or the other, she needs to spotlight what she’s got. Both of these style options would be great because a mussed look is the goal. (No one uses the word “muss” anymore. BRING BACK THE MUSS!)

Notice how the heavier bangs in Option #1 are coming from the middle of the crown forward. This type of cut would help give Veronique a thicker look, masking the thinness in front and the cowlick in the middle of her forehead. As for the sides and back, she wouldn’t have to do a thing. Just wash, towel-dry, put a dab of waxy pomade through the ends and let air dry. The way Veronique’s hair naturally dries (the in between thing) would look almost exactly like the photos.

Plus! The shorter cut and bangs would totally bring out her lovely eyes.

Which one do you like?

Our second participant is Lane. She is the 2nd official inductee into The Fishing Club.

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Lane’s hair:

Naturally perfect color
Naturally shiny
Naturally everything
Prefers her hair longer

Oh, that’s too bad. I was going to tell Lane to shave it all off.

Oh, I kid. I totally know where she’s coming from with her hair boredom, but I do think she should leave it longer. However, she asked about the possibility of bangs for a new change. I think that could work- maybe starting out with longer ones at first to see if she is happy with the look, and then going shorter if she likes them. Maybe something like this.

What do you think?

p.s. – Totally unrelated to the participants at hand, but this is rocking my world right now.

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30

A Prelude to Hair Thursday

It’s coming! Hold your horses!

Last night, I was a tad over-served in the martini department (hence the delay). I was enjoying a few with a fabulous friend when I noticed an older, Tony Bennett clone and his colleagues staring at me from across the bar. Several times I remarked to my friend that this man was staring a hole through us, but of course, that she should not turn around and look. (Which actually sounded more like, “OMG DON’T LOOK NOW HE’S GONNA BUST YOU OMG!” Dude, I have NO game anymore.)

For some reason, he had a particularly nice, mellow stare and it didn’t really bother me too much. (I mean, for Christ’s sake, he was seventy. Or sixty, I don’t know. How old is Tony Bennett?)

After an hour had passed, I looked up and noticed he was gone. I mentioned to my friend that he must have left when all of the sudden, I saw him approaching. (OMG! HE’S COMING OVER, DON’T LOOK NOW! EEK!) However, he was absolutely pleasant, mentioning that he was on his way out, but that he and his friends had been been watching me (You don’t say?) and making guesses about my age and what I did for a living, and he just had to know if he was in the ball park.

I was beginning to think I was involved in one of the worst pick-up schemes ever, but I must admit, I was curious. I asked him what his guess was and he replied, “a hair model”. You’ve got to be kidding me. My friend and I looked at each other and just started laughing incredulously, as we had JUST finished talking about Hair Thursdays and the whole I-can’t-believe-people-actually-ask-MY-advice-about-their-hair thing. How did I get to this point? Seriously.

I told him, “No, but thank you for the compliment”, and he apologized for interrupting our conversation and went on his merry way. (Which, I must admit, was very refreshing. No attempt at cheesy small talk or buying us drinks, he just wanted an answer to his question and let us be.)

Oh! And if the hair compliment wasn’t enough, he thought I was 22. TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD. Unfortunately, for about 12 seconds, I couldn’t remember how old I was. Like I had to mentally subtract 1974 from 2007 in my head before telling him I was 33. Sadly, I don’t think my martini consumption was to blame.

Hello, I’m Whoorl and I occasionally forget how old I am.

(Dear Tony Bennett clone, call me. We can share the cost of our Alzheimer’s medication.)