In Defence of Britney Spears

Well that was a title I never ever imagined giving a post, or even a single thought for that matter.

I think if we’re honest people we’re all still slightly disturbed about when Britney did this.

It wasn’t a good look.

I knew my old Dyson was on the fritz but didn’t realise quite how decrepit it was until we replaced it with a beautiful new Dyson and I got quite carried away with some celebratory vacuuming (I don’t know what it is about vacuuming with a Dyson but for me it is the most fulfilling housework I ever do, or maybe just the only housework I ever do?) and emptied the cylinder only to find enough hair to hairify (I know that's not a word or even a possibility but I’m sleep deprived so I really don’t care so much)about 12 bald men.

Previous to this Eli had gone to use the bathroom after I had showered (which was a delightful change, usually he likes to visit at least once per shower, another joy of parenthood) and exited the loo in a panic. On seeing my head wrapped in a towel his panic intensified.

“Mum, you showered all your hair off!”

I went to look and reassured him that I did have some hair left on my balding dome.

Post Partum hair loss sucks.

I leave a trail of long brown hairs wherever I go. I find them in very dubious places. I have thinning patches all over. My tresses are distressed.

Not tres glamorous.

Then I remembered dear troubled Mrs Federline as was, and that she had 2 kids really close together (which I still think wasn’t so much entirely intentional and more completely accidental, not that I’m judgmental, much) and I thought wowsers that post partum hair loss had to be really dreadful.

So maybe that’s why Brit buzzed all her hair off.

(If I could pull it off like Katherine Heigl in Grey’s I’d be tempted I’m telling you. But alas I would not be a beautiful baldy and I know it.)

Well that or that Brit really was just a total fruit loop.

Some things I should have blogged about but didn't because I was just too lazy.

Remember how my boys always had hair that looked something like this?

(Though I admit Eli's is particularly insane in his picture.)Well around Christmas Thomas started asking to have his hair cut 'all spiky' just like his dad. So I eventually relented and took him and felt saddened the entire time as I watched him grinning from ear to ear as the stylist cut off all his hair.

He looked SO grown up but also super cute so I quickly learned to live with it!

A few weeks later Sabbath day boredom kicked in and we decided it was time to bid farewell to Eli's hair too.

Rob somehow managed to persuade him and we pulled out the clippers and went to town on his head. In fact Rob went to town with a little too much ferocity and mistakenly put the number 3 guard on instead of number 6.

Which resulted in hair so short that we had to resort to shaving our hairy boys forehead because his forehead hair was longer than the hair on his head.
Eli wasn't so impressed with the outcome. He asked several times for his hair back and confided to anyone who would listen with disgust that 'my daddy did it to me!' Fortunately it's growing back now and we'll be keeping it long (but not so dishevelled looking) in the future.
Thomas who didn't escape the Sabbath day boredom also got his hair buzzed off and at the end of January turned 4! (Yes I am ashamed I'm blogging about this 2.5 months late.)

He chose to go bowling and somehow even with the bumper bars up he managed to beat me. Well, more precisely utterly thrash me considering he whooped me by 30 points or so. Clearly all my bowling prowess on the Wii just didn't transfer into real life. Gutted.

Blasted Nintendo people giving me a false sense of confidence and achievement.

February saw England get its worst snowfall in 18 years. Usually we get a mere sprinkling that leaves within a few hours but this snow kept on coming and lingered for a week or so.
The boys (including Rob) of course were thrilled and made the most of every snow filled day.
I on the other hand put on as many clothes and possible and waited for it to pass.
Whilst wondering why on earth I wasn't born somewhere warmer and how come global warming hasn't actually made me any warmer at all.
After months of watching from the sidelines Eli recently officially started football training for the West End number 5's alongside his big brother. For the most part he has zero clue what is going on and runs around aimlessly which is far from productive but on the bright side it is very amusing to observe.
Today is our 6 year anniversary. I'm actually not even at home with Rob. I came to my mum's with the boys for a few days this afternoon. 6 years has flown by. But I am grateful for the husband I have and the time we have spent together.

We all miss you already Rob!

Three Little Words

Completely Inexplicable Hair

By the way this is our Budding Picasso (or should that be Pooping Picasso?)

In the last two days he has created extensive new masterpieces.

I decided to spare you the photographic evidence.

You must be SO disappointed.

Breaking the Habit

People always think I must be joking when I say that I have an annual haircut. But for the last five years or so it has been the complete and total truth. I don't know how I got into this annual habit, it just happened. Generally I'd go along and lose a good six inches and then wait for it to grow back before visiting the hairdresser and requesting the same again and leaving whilst saying 'Same time next year!'. I guess the fact that my hair was just long and straight and not in any particular style really helped me make my one haircut last all year long, well that's good value for money!

But I decided to break my habit and went and got a haircut on Friday despite the fact I had just been in January. Already two haircuts this year and we're only just in May......I must be feeling crazy!

I really like going to the hairdressers though and here is why:

1. It as close to pampering as it gets for me


2. I never fail to be amused by how the hairstylists dress. They dress like Beyonce or Britney Spears every single day, there is no shortage of hot pants, halterneck tops, gold jewellery and animal prints at my hairdressers. It could be a freezing cold day but you just know the hairstylists are gonna be dressed in the tiniest items of clothing ever made because heaven forbid anyone take a pair of scissors to another persons hair dressed any other way. Zero dressing for comfort or warmth allowed. It's like a violation of the hairstylists oath or something.


3. It's the one day I know my hair will actually look good all day long and not just an afterthought pulled into a ponytail.


4. You get to listen into other peoples conversations, this I could do all day long, every day. I'm inquisitive like that.

My latest trip was extremely enjoyable. I arrived at the salon to be greeted by a lovely oriental boy far more feminine than me, with eyebrows immaculately groomed and more make up than I probably wear in a month, okay two. My usual stylist 'Liv' (Her actual name is Olivia but she told me last time that Olivia just doesn't give the right vibe in her line of work, whatever the right vibe might be) wasn't quite ready for me so the pretty oriental boy took me to wash my hair.

If I could pay someone to come wash my hair and massage my scalp like they do at the hairdressers every single day I would happily forfeit food to fund it, it'd be a small sacrifice. Liv realises that while I am happy to politely chit chat I have no problems with just sitting quietly either (all the better for hearing other peoples conversations after all). She is the girl that attempted to cut Eli's hair so she has had a small but ghastly glimpse into what my life is like on a daily basis so she's very understanding. Pretty Oriental boy obviously isn't so acquainted with me so attempted to make conversation with me during my entire blissful head massage.

"Are you going out this weekend?"

"No." (Politely but hoping he'd get the hint that what I'm looking for is sweet sweet silence)

"What you're not going clubbing?" (What on earth would make him think me a likely candidate for clubbing? I'm 32 and my persona hardly oozes party animal.)

And so we went on, and on, and on. Lucky for him he gave a sublime head massage overall so I could forgive him for the incessant chitter chatter. An hour later I left with my sleek new haircut feeling thoroughly relaxed. Of course the next day it was back in a ponytail but at least I don't have to wait another year before my next good hair day now that I have finally broken my habit.

Haircut From Hell

Check out the hair on this guy! As an infant Eli had this olive complexion and tres dark hair that secured him the affectionate nickname of Asad from my in laws. Then one day his hair started getting curly and unruly (courtesy of the Uttley family) and he was no longer referred to as one of Pakistan origin but instead as a child of Italy. Which I vastly preferred! On a recent trip to get him a haircut (of which there have been many) he seemed somewhat disgruntled. The girl assigned to Eli I suspect had very little experience with children in her whole two years working experience. The minute she started cutting he started muttering some objections. At first quietly gradually increasing in volume. Every time he would object she would stop and wait for him to compose himself and then continue. When I insisted she really didn't need to do that and that we should just get the ordeal over and done with as quickly as possible she looked at me like I had eight heads. So she continued to leisurely cut his hair. Five minutes in he'd well and truly grasped that if he objected enough she'd put the scissors down and he's be saved from any more haircut torture. Ten minutes in when she'd cut about 6 hairs in total I had to insist that she just carry on regardless of his objections. She looked uncomfortable about it but she did as I asked.

So I wrestled with Eli (I actually think he might be stronger than me already!) while she attempted to cut his unruly mop while he screamed and screamed and SCREAMED. It was embarrassing but fortunately they had no other customers and the only other people there were two other staff who appeared to have the combined age of about 21. So I sat there in the chair attempting to immobilise my toddler who was behaving like we were trying to rob him of his Samsonesque powers.

About every 20 seconds when Eli would wrestle a hand free he would hit the hairdresser and shout "NO!!!" before resuming to full screaming mode. During this visit I considered leaving about 3,653 times but seeming as I knew I'd have to pay regardless I was committed to getting value for my £6! Until a lady came in who had been to the bakery 3 shops along and happily told us how she could hear his blood curdling screams while she ordered her lunch. I was defeated. His hair was about 70% cut which was better than nothing so I paid and left. I tried my best to make him look presentable when I got home. He of course resisted. Let's just hope he looks cute with Samsonesque hair because I am certainly never enduring a repeat experience of that.

In future I'll just inviest my £6 in chocolate and put a hat on Eli! Win-Win!