|click here for our tutorial on curling your hair with a pillowcase|
After wrapping up my last event of the season on Sunday night, I woke up Monday morning not to my alarm, but to the sudden and abrupt realization that I'm having a baby.
Of course I've known for 38 weeks now that I'm pregnant, the natural outcome (literally) of which is a baby, but it took ticking off every other notable date on my calendar until one remained, my due date, for it to really sink in that I am going to give birth. To a baby. Like, really soon.
When I was pregnant with the duckling, I had the car seat installed five weeks before I was due, my hospital bag was packed and by the door for four weeks, and I spent the last three weeks wondering if every pinch, prod, sneeze and fart was the start of labor. (Imagine my level of grumpiness when I then went nearly a week over my due date.)
This time I have completed exactly zero of the whopping four things on my baby to do list. There's nary a baby sock in our house, let alone a car seat, a hospital bag, or a "big brother" gift for the duckling from his new baby brother or sister. In fact, I've somehow managed to become even less prepared in the past two weeks, having discovered that my "nice" camera was broken the day before the duckling's 2nd birthday. I had to send it in for repair (thank goodness for warranties), but have yet to get it back. I've called them every day for a week to not-so-gently remind them that I could go into labor at any moment, and that without my camera, there will be zero documentation of my second child's birth, which has two very grave and life-long side effects - one, my second child will forever feel that I don't love them as much as my first because I couldn't even bother to take a single picture of their birth, and two, the duckling will, in every fight with his little sister or brother, claim that he or she is in fact adopted because what else could explain why there isn't a single picture of him or her at the hospital being born. And that's not even considering what would happen should said second child decide to run for office - can't you just see the birther conspiracy headlines?
So with all of this looming, what's any self-respecting, capable mother of (almost) two due to resolve the issue?
My very logical and productive solution was to buy a $20 bottle of shampoo.
Let me rephrase that - I used a $25 Sephora gift card given to me at Christmas to buy a $20 bottle of shampoo (with $3.23 left over, thankyouverymuch). "Wow, that Chrissann, she sure knows how to quickly and efficiently cross things off her to do list", said no one ever.
The back story is that for months I had been hearing about sulfate-free shampoo and the wonders it works for wavy to curly hair. Even my mom got in on the action a while back, switching to a reputed "curly hair" salon and stylist who initiated my mother into a new routine involving something called "No Poo", banana clips, leave-in conditioner and a solemn vow to never ever ever ever brush her hair ever again.
Obviously what I need right now is a totally frivolous and ridiculously stupid project to obsess over while everything else goes unanswered, so as of today I've started the "transition phase" (that's their term, not mine) from sulfate shampoo-er to curly convert. Wish me, my hair, and my poor husband who has no idea what to do with me and my attendant hormonal insanity, good luck. Clearly we need all it.
If you're curious about the whole curly hair thing, you can find a diagnostic tool here and a link to the Curly Girl book my mom ascribes to here. Maybe I'll even snap some photos of the process. Just, you know, obviously not with my "nice" camera, because, well, you know.