My love affair with TurbiTwist, or how I am extra lame

Just a half-Mothra in this shot. Extra gorgeous.

A week or so into being a full-time working mum of 2, I realize that having a turbitwist really is an essential item in my daily life.

My mother-in-law gave it to me as a joke gift at Christmas and I actually didn’t regard it as a joke. It wasn’t funny, it was practical. And kind of awesome. And my sister-in-law got one too. She might have been less excited about it than I was, but she is a decade younger than me so that pretty much explains that.

I’d used it on and off since Christmas and let me just say that it never ever ever looks as stylish on me as it does on the packaging model. I look like the hugest nerd ever, with extra big ears. My ears aren’t that big; somehow the towel accentuates their size, turning me into Dumbo. Or Mothra. yes, I think thats a better comparison. Powder blue towel head with enormous Mothra ears on either side.

I look ridiculous.

But

BUT.

Guess what saves time in the morning? Washing your hair at night.

And guess what sucks for people who have ridiculously curly hair and live in a State like, say, Florida, where it’s extremely hot and humid and rainy and tropical all the time? Not having enough time in the morning to sort out said hair, leaving the house with it wet/damp and looking ridiculous in a professional setting as a result.

Yup. That is the epitome of suckage. I might have been able to get away with it when I was in my twenties, but since I am now firmly in my mid-thirties it really is pretty damn sloppy to hit the road in the morning like that. Especially in Florida when it quickly turns into Giant Clown head.

And so? Yes, it’s true. I now wash my hair at night and throw it up in a turbi twist and sleep with it like that. And in the morning, my hair is mostly tame and only requires the merest whisp of flat iron to behave. And this, in between the insanity of feeding a baby, feeding a preschooler, walking the dog, my husband juicing a million fruits and veg for what seems like hours, avoiding getting covered in formula, getting covered in formula, changing my clothes again, slapping on some makeup, driving to Eleanor’s daycare and then speeding into the office… Well, this really does help the morning run smoother.

I also think this really helps bolster my ‘cool mom’ factor. Well, even if it doesn’t (which is really hard to believe), my hair has been looking pretty amazing.

Get one. It will change your life. xoxo a.m.

Moving forward

I am pleased to report that there have been no further poocidences since last weekend, I’m happy to move forward and to stop talking about it for as long as possible. Or at least until something awful happens again and I feel the need to share it with everyone.

And so, on that note, moving on!

Please save us from poo…

Yup, that's pretty much how I felt about it too...

So yesterday morning started off on a good note. It was the last day of Spring Break for Edward and we had a family day planned. Vince was not going to daycare and we were all going to try and sleep just a little later than we normally do, you know, for fun.

Edward and I woke up to Eleanor’s noisy morning cries and I busied myself with feeding her. Edward interjected just before I got started with “Did you want me to feed her and you handle Vince? Or what’s the easiest for you?’ (Bless him, he’s trying to help). I shook my head no and indicated that I would prefer him to handle Vince. Total non-verbal communication-style. Yup, that’s how good our marriage is. I grunt and he translates that to complete sentences and vice versa…

Reflections

One week ago, Miss Eleanor Marie was born. It was a Monday afternoon, right around that time in the afternoon when you are winding down the work day. We were winding it up, man. That’s just how Edward and I roll…

As I sit here on my bed in my quiet, clean bedroom with Eleanor rocking away next to me, in the throes of a milk-induced coma, it’s interesting to reflect on how my life has changed in such a short time.

To be honest, it was very hard to realize the enormity of baby number 2. I mean, we knew she was coming, there was no doubt. She was in there, she had to come out sometime. We were even given a date as to when that would be. And when that date arrived, even when we were all checked in to the hospital and being ushered by the sweetest nurse into the birthing suite where she was going to be born. Even to the point where I was naked and putting on a hospital robe. And even when she arrived, when she was physically in this world and not in me anymore, her impact was still hard to actualize.

It wasn’t until we left the bubble of the hospital and hit the reality of our little home that we understood her impact.

I believe it’s the kind of thing there is no way to really prepare for.

*sigh* Best. Feeling. Ever.

But huge changes. Huge changes for Vincent, change that’s pushing him to make bigger boy steps, maybe ones neither of us were ready for yet. We have no choice though and Vince is now firmly on that path from ‘my baby’ to ‘my child’. My son. It’s hard to articulate… He’s growing up and it’s kind of hard for me to see. However, you know that old adage ‘That’s life’, and that is indeed it in a nutshell.

But all seriousness aside, this second baby business? Piece of cake. Piece. Of. Cake.

No really. I mean it. I’ve already been through the wringer with Vince, so pretty much nothing fazes me now. Only difference? More vagina. Yup, that’s about it. And let me say, it’s a little easier to deal with. Apart from not knowing where random pee will be directed (at least with Vince we could dodge…), I’m familiar with the territory. Yes, it’s true. I have one too.

Anyways, small volcanic eruption in our household and things are settling down to normal. Slowly settling, with some hiccups to be anticipated. I feel almost normal and apart from a few lingering reminders of last Mondays events (like that one foot that’s still a bit swollen, oh and Eleanor of course), it’s like she was always here…

much love xoxo a.m.