Invisible Wreath

So my laptop decided to go crazy and then stop working. NOOO...!!!

So I'm gonna do a quick little post with my phone. 

My Christmas wreath was essentially invisible on my black front door.

Kinda defeats the purpose.

So I got out a can of white spray paint that I laying around (took off the bow and brought the wreath outside) and gave it a fairly heavy dusting of "snow."

Ta da! Visible Cheer!

Nice right? Even if flocked evergreens (ones that look snowy) aren't your thing, it's nice to see the wreath you bought hanging there, right?

(Of course mine cost like $4 from a thrift store so I wasn't scared to try this. But it worked great.)

Thanksgiving, I do have A LOT to be thankful for.

Despite my last post, which might make me seem really depressed, perhaps non-functional. (Which at times I think applies.) I actually still have that “other me” that is still going strong and really happy about stuff. I’ve gotten a lot done lately. And I have so, so, so much I am grateful for these days, and it’s piled on even more recently. (Warning Long Post Ahead.)

So with being excited about Christmas, I got to wanting to decorate. But I figured I’d sign up for some Thanksgiving decor first. I’ve recently bought a large roll of brown paper which I plan to use for wrapping paper. (Part of my minimalism kick. I think it’s a perfect meeting for practicality, form and function. You can do some seriously cute wrapping with brown paper, and you can use it for ever single occasion. And then you don’t have to store TONS of paper any more. Just one roll. And you get to be creative more often. I feel it’s a win.) So I used this brown paper to add a little Thanksgiving love to our home. (I plan to store it in a file folder when I’m done for next year.)

In the family room I printed out some leafs shapes and traced and cut them out and strung them up on our Fireplace. It’s cute, but marginally underwhelming. I’ll probably figure out something more to add to it next time.

I really like the living room mantel. It turned out great. I used this printable to print the letters and then added some brown paper behind to beef it up a little. And the flower is a few coffee filters fluffed up and sewed together. It’s all hung up with clothes pins I already had.

In the eating area I added these to our wreath for the moment.

And on our chalkboard doors I wrote out the definition of “Thankful" and “Appreciate."

I’m always awed when I look up word definitions of words I use, and feel like I know really well. Because usually it changes how I feel about the words.

I’ve deeply struggled with the idea of being “thankful” since that last pregnancy.

The whole “1,000 Gifts” phenomenon so regularly presented to me as a solution to my pain.

I felt so terribly sick that I honestly had zero access to my brain any more. I only had access to sensations in my body. So the idea that being thankful would help me through this only made me feel deep failure. I couldn’t think and if I tried to my brain just said “Oww. This is horrible."

So I started hating the words associated with “Thankfulness.”

I stopped thinking of what the words meant, and started just reeling away from in guilt and irritation.

So then when I decided to decorate with these words I figured, hey I better know what I’m plastering all over my house. Especially since I felt incompatible with them.

When I searched the word “Thankful" into Google the first thing that it pulled up was,

“Pleased and relieved.”

{jaw drop}

Um yep -- “relieved" sure as heck applies currently. I didn’t know that was a part of the definition.

I can be pleased and relieved!

(Even if I’m looking forward to being more relieved later on when my body is further removed from the experience.)

And even when I was pregnant -- and not pleased, glad, or relieved…. I could be (was) aware (and attempting to be appreciative) of a benefit.

Sometimes you can’t really appreciate something in the middle of it. Sometimes hindsight’s gotta kick in for that one. It’s nice when it doesn’t take that long -- but sometimes you just cannot fully know all the implications in the middle of it.

Anyway, seeing these definitions gave me some soul soothing relief because it took the idea of being thankful from this idea I had that it was a great big idealistic emotion of exploding ethereal joy, and brought it down to a level I actually can, and do, achieve.

Which makes me more grateful because it feels like grace.

In more house decor news. I got so tired of my stairs I finally did something about it. These are our temporary stairs until we get around to fixing our haunted looking entry way. 

Initially it made sense to me to paint the construction treads black -- in effort to make them look like stairs. Only once I did it didn’t ever look right to me. And then it turns out that our gross-drywall sheds oldness flakes (like dandruff for walls) which shows up terribly on the black. They NEVER looked clean. Maybe 30 mins of it after scrubbing them down. (The walls won’t do that once we get them all prettied up.)

But what I really didn’t like was how bold the stairs looked. It was like a shouted invitation to check out how scary the walls next them are. “HEY LOOK OVER THIS WAY!!!” “ALL YOUR ATTENTION OVER HERE!"

It finally dawned on me that I didn’t need to go buy any paint to fix this! I had tons of left over wall color paint for this area. (I bought more because I thought I was going to paint the tall walls with it, which I am not. So I was annoyed to have paid for paint I didn’t think I’d use.) So as soon as that idea all came together I was in paint cloths. I pained every other step (so you can still go up them), for two days. And then I touched up the white risers the next day because they were looking really bad in person.

So much fresher!

I don’t feel like this is the kind of thing that shows in pictures the way it feels in real life.

But in real life this makes me feel very good.

The entry way is still gross. But the stairs kinda just mellow away and that gives your eyes a chance to look towards the less scary walls.

It also draws less attention to the fact that the drywall is just a raw edge at the end of the stairs. (Who even knows why?)

And any of the “wall dandruff” (wow that sounds gross) won’t be so visible anymore.

I’m really happy I did this semi-time consuming little task, because I want to hang some Christmas garland on the banister and this will feel a lot better to me now. Time well spent in my book. Even if it’s temporary and still kinda weird. Better is good!

In other news. (I did this a few weeks ago now, but didn’t have the chance to show you.) I did the fabric, spray adhesive, roller blinds trick in the girls room. And I LOVE IT!

It’s hard to get good pictures of it because the light messes with things by the very nature of the placement of these. But in person this is adorable.

(I’ve yet to take the curtain brackets off the wall. oops.)

The roller still rolls. To get it up, you kinda gotta help push up just a little instead of how it used to just super fast suck itself up. But that’s fine.

It’s really cute in person. It’s kinda like a wallpaper-fix without the wallpaper. And in a smaller portion, so your eyes don’t get too full of pattern. And the fact that we roll them down at night, and up during the day makes them feel interesting all the time to me.

This really is the prefect solution for this room right now. The furniture right in front of the windows, plus young kids, it just makes so much more sense than curtains. (And I could always later curtains over this too. Which would be wild, but fun.)

Now I just have to figure out the wall decorations in here.

Moving on. THE TABLE!

It’s painted! I LOVE IT!

Before/ During the painting

It was at this stage where I was glad I did not opt for a wood refinishing for the top, in conjunction with painting the bottom (any color.) I know it would look different than this exactly, but I seriously did not approve of this look, on this table, for me.

Here’s a before (sorta) and a wet paint comparison.

I used Rustolem oil based paint in Black Satin.

You KNOW I used oil based on my table! If I was only allowed to use oil based paint on one piece of furniture, it would be my kitchen table. I see NO way for latex paint to be a good idea on a often used kitchen table. I kinda die a little inside when I see all these pins sharing the right way to paint a table and it’s all latex. It’s going to chip, peel,  and/or feel tacky. It gets sorta better if you put water based poly over it. But even then -- oil based is hands down, so much better. PLEASE, if you paint a kitchen table, use oil based. Yeah it’s smelly -- but it’s the only way it’s gonna be worth it for your table. You have to wipe it down like three times a day!

For my table, I wound up doing I think three or four coats of paint on the top. Why? I wanted to let the paint act as filler for some imperfections. I tried to sand out some water rings and general lacquer wear and tear out of the top. But I don’t think I was aggressive enough. After the first coat of paint it was clear as day where those imperfections were. But the more coats I put on, the more the paint did a self leveling kind of thing and made the top a lot better looking. I can still see the spots, but I’m ok with them. And I don’t think they will stand out to people who aren’t looking for them.

Anyway here’s the table dry and back in the room. 

Heart eyes emoji.

NO regrets on this project. My emotions for this table have gone from meh to serious affection.

Now I just have to get moving on the chairs. (I can’t wait to get even one coat of paint on one just so I can set them next to each other and see how it feels.)

I was going to start on the chairs. (I really hope to have them (most of them) done by Christmas. It’s the first year we will be having Christmas at our house. And my mom just has passed down our very special china to me, and we are going to use it then. So I’m excited to have the room looking fancy -- hopefully. The dishes are cut glass and amber colored -- they are gonna look so nice against the black table!

But after I got the table painted. I had another assignment. (Couldn’t start on the chairs quite yet.)

Blake (and a friend of his with some fancy machinery) created this lap steel guitar. It’s really cool. But since it’s unique there’s no way to buy it a case. And so when Blake would travel with it he would just wrap it in a blanket -- which is no good. I told Blake I could probably sew it a gig bag.

Blake was really excited about that. So I hustled to get it done before Thanksgiving.

I had no idea what I was doing. And I just kinda made it up as I went along. But it turned out really well. I wish it was a bit more polished looking on the top -- but for a novice’s experiement I’ll be proud of it.

I made that white foam bed for it, then traced the bottom onto hardboard that Blake cut out for me. And layered that, so it had stability on the bottom and safe cushioning around it.

Then I sewed black fleece to set into the inside. And used black duck cloth for the outside.

I added handles out of nylon straps.

The pocket kinda annoyed me because I forgot to put it on at the right time, so I had to take some of it apart to get it on.

The zipper was the hard part of this thing. Getting it right and through the sewing machine wasn’t easy. That’s the part I wish looked smoother -- but oh well -- it works.

I had no way to get the top panel sewed onto the bottom box part with the sewing machine. So I hand stitched that straight line together.

Blake is thrilled with it. So that makes me happy. And it’s kinda fun having something so unexpected under my belt.

And one more exciting improvement happened this week.

I was poking around craigslist, as I like to do regularly. I just peek around at anything. And I saw this stainless steel electric range. As you may remember, when we bought the house we upgraded the fridge and dishwasher (basically because we had to -- they were soooo gross and smelly) but left the stove as is because it worked. And my long term goal is to get a gas line back there and get a gas stove. I didn’t want to spend money on an electric stove.

BUT….after two years this creamish/whiteish stove had just gotten way to ugly to me. I was just getting irritated looking at it. If it had been white I would have been fine, but it was a nondescript off-white that I really hadn’t see before.

I had a goal of getting a white-white one for the time being -- because I NEVER see stainless steel stoves in our location on craigslist. And I imagined if I did they would still be expensive.

WELL…this weekend I saw one! The first one I’d every seen. I wasn’t really looking for one. But I saw it and jumped to email them. It was still available! 

They were selling it with an overhead microwave (didn’t want to separate) for $275. 

I said “Yes please.”

We picked it up. We sold the microwave for $50. And then we sold our stove for $150 no problem.

So in my view of things, this stove cost me $75.

And it’s $75 well spent. It is a major upgrade to our old one. It’s got tons of features our other one did not. The oven is convection. The way the oven racks are set up is way nicer. The burners are quick boil. And generally it’s just nicer to use all around.

And then of course there’s the beauty aspect.

It’s got a scratch on the front and a dent on the side (where you can’t see it.) But still -- glorious.

I kinda just treat craigslist like yankee swap. I just keep selling what I don’t want, to buy better fits for us. It’s super rewarding. It’s not always a fast process. (I’ve had my feelers out for two years for this stove.) But sometimes that makes it all the sweeter. I think I love this stove more because of the wait.

Ok I’ll end my long rambling.

I hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving!

I’ve become fixated on Christmas

I’ve become fixated on Christmas.  I want the magic.  I want the lights.  I want the warmth despite the cold.

This morning I woke up to our first snow. Thick and heavy. Your eyelashes get wet just looking at it.

I wake up bleary these days. As soon as the focus finds me, the gasped “oh” at the sight of my window is involuntary.

I pick up baby Bronson, and crawl us to the window behind my headboard. I fight the roller shade, he must see it all. I hold him to my face in that softest, brightest light and whisper, “That’s snow buddy.” His eyes tell me he’s just as awestruck as I am (well more-so, I’m sure, this is his very first snow.) “It’s just like rain, only it’s cold and fluffy.” Cheek to cheek we take it in, hushed reverence. “It’s so beautiful.”

There is nothing but us. Us and the perfect soft sight. Silence and wonder. No thoughts, just vision. Snow falls so fast and yet seam like it unfettered by gravity.

I am in glittery love. Slow moving. Sweet quiet and peace.

After soaking it in --- only good, good, and more good. I suddenly feel the juxtapose. Last year the snow was a heaviness proclaiming my seeming unending pain. When it finally melted I felt some small emotional breakthrough -- eventually time will pass. Eventually I will be free.

Having Bronson in my arms is such a strange sensation when these moments come. The moments where I am face to face with what came from my pain and suffering. It’s strange because I’ve divorced that pain from him. He is only good. Only lovely. And that pain is only pain. I try to press them together in these moments to find the answers -- but it’s all oil and water.

I do that, when I have my babies. I become two people. Every time. One who is happy and thrilled and more in love that I can ever comprehend. Each time. It’s incomprehensible that each time I can love someone more than I knew I could love anyone.
But I am also another person at the same time. One who is lost and broken and grieving. It’s incomprehensible that I could be so deeply broken in new unforeseen ways each time.

First birth: Broken by scalpel cutting in disappointment and a gaping chasm of failure. Second birth: Broken by disillusionment --- a VBAC didn’t take away what hurts. Grapling with, “Where do I got from here?" Third birth: Broken by what was an unending labor ---42 weeks of truly questioning if I was dying physically, and worse, mentally. The literal labor and delivery, albeit gentle, was still hard, still counts as pain, yet I would gladly have done that two (maybe three) times a week for 42 weeks if it meant I didn’t have to feel that pregnancy.

I’ve never been so helter-skelter. I have no point of reference anymore. Things I’ve always known, I don’t know anymore. Things I never knew are solid truth.
And so many attempts at advice come at me each time I speak, none of which paint any better than my water and oil slick.
And this morning, caught off guard,  I answer my door wearing paint pants, to two minty and apologetic, Jehovah’s Witnesses. They ask me, “Does it do any good to pray?”
 At my door, they are covered in snow, that's melting on their dress wool coats and ties. But I have left and for me it's June. My belly huge, my body long since past my breaking. I’m on my bed, alone in my house, crying with full voice --- praying the only word I have left, “Please.” “Please, please, please.” I’m screaming.
The cold crawling up my arms pulls me back; at my front door my eyes well up.  I’ve asked myself their question more than I like. I pause an awkward moment, I feel like an oozing mess. I wonder if my abruptness is a terrible testimony, I take on another weight. I tell them, I have a church. They give me their booklet. We part while I wonder even bigger things. Things I’m not made to hold. The world is entirely too big a place for me. How does it rush in with the wind when I open my door? Or scream at me through glass screens? I’m doing good to process only one-life’s hard things.




More physical than my emotional bruises that hurt all day while I move -- The food: The allergies. The inability to feel safe. The nausea, it’s ramifications. The inability to ignore, to cope, since food is always, always, and everywhere.

I have no idea what’s ok anymore. What to say. What not to say. What to do.

When I was pregnant I told myself I would just be done when I’m done. I’d feel better. I’d leave it all behind me.

Only. I didn’t feel better. I was nauseas, still so really-actually-nauseous for a week while I held my baby. And when that cleared. I still hated food. If you throw up a food when you have the flu, don’t you usually avoid that for a long while? Only that’s how all food feels to me. Still. Four (close to five) months later. Yet Breastfeeding demands I eat and eat because being hungry sours a stomach more. And a sour stomach scares now now, after 10 months of such a thing. So the baby weight won’t budge. (It was gone by now the last two times.) And I got cavities from the pregnancy. And I had them filled. So now my teeth hurt when I eat.
How on earth do I feed my kids? The allergies. The hang ups. All the advice, that never helps, flies in my face. And that grocery list that has to come up at least once a week -- yeah, it does, it can give me panic attacks, seriously who can understand such a strange thing.

I can’t just leave this experience behind me. I am IN this experience. And as if I wasn’t baffling enough to people when I was still sick past the half way point, and no one else was. I am certainly baffling now when I should be great, but instead I am a tremoring pile of hormones and residual bruising.

I get so tired of talking about it that I just want to be alone. Only I am so horrifyingly alone that I grieve the space I place all around me.

I have no idea if this should be written. I have no idea if this should be read. I only know it’s very real.

That snow is so powerfully stunning. And holding Bronson is better than anything I know. And I press him against my heart as often as I can. A warm compress and a bandage. And finally a sweet smell (the sweetest) after 42 weeks of every smell turning me into someone who wanted to stop existing because existing was more than I could do. But my stomach is still ify this morning. And my heart still feels blind.

I’ve become fixated on Christmas.  I want the magic.  I want the lights.  I want the warmth despite the cold.

Come Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set They people free
From our fears and sins release us
Let us find our Rest in Thee.

More Postpartum Clothes

*Please excuse the weird formatting on this post -- centered typing , with some photos off center. I tired to fix it, but there is a glitch that won’t let me*

So I’ve been snapping photos of some of my outfits for a bit.

These don’t all have fantastic qualities, they are just stuff I feel ok wearing right now.

The photo quality is terrible - sorry.

Honestly, I still have lots of days where I’m not dressed, and am bedraggled looking. But, for real, this smaller, coordinated closet gets me dressed (and in a sane-looking way) SO MUCH MORE than I ever was after baby #2.

Some days I’m just in jeans and a loose black v-neck T-shirt (which didn’t earn a photo) but some days that feels like a big win.

So I’ll just throw these photos at ya, with a pinch of explanation.

I should make this into multiple posts, but I don’t have the time. I want to knock it out in one fell swoop.

I wear these oversized men’s Hanes V-neck Ts, a alot.

I bought a bag of 7 in an X-Large. (I’d wear a medium if I wanted a standard fit)

I like them big for wearing as tunics, or to knot them at the waist.

So these are perfect because they are cheap and easy to get a hold of (and they look like the pricey ones fashion bloggers pay more money for to get the same big baggy messy chic for -- and mine are gonna get spit up on.) If they get stained, oh well have 7. (It equaled paying like $2 a shirt.) 

I also like wearing cotton for breathability. 

So I wear these all the time. I wear them to bed a lot.

The neck line is low enough that I can just pull it down to nurse.

So lots of things I like.

But 

I don’t like the sleeves on me.  They are too long and loose and make me feel messy.

So I took all my shirts and (one at a time) rolled the sleeves up, twice, and sewed around the top of that cuff.

Before/After

It feels like a major improvement.

Still loose and big -- but not in such a bad way.

So these shirts are on me all the time. And no, they aren’t gorgeous. But they work. 

Here’s a day where I rolled out of bed, threw on leggings and a sweater over the shirt I slept in, and then the mail man rang the door bell that day and after I answered I thought “Sweet, I’m in PJs and didn’t even feel bad about it.”  (Prior to this wardrobe revolution, the moments where the door bell rang unexpectedly usually had me feeling super pathetic in my mismatched, non-fitting, nonsense that I was adorned with.) (I didn’t have make up on, but at least I had clothes on!)

Here’s the same concept, but tweaked by using a “moto jacket” -- which is actually an active wear zip up.

TheMomEdit taught me the trick for moms to be able to wear blazers/structured jackets -- you need to get ones that are stretchy! You know how you can’t maneuver with tight jackets, so you don’t ever put them on with kids?…Get stuff that looks like the structured pieces, but are made of knits. Washable wonderful knits. I have two other blazers that I bought with this in mind. 

 

I’m not wearing this outfit, below, much these days with the weather cooling off (I’ve had a struggle finding pants with fall coming -- skirts are so postpartum friendly.) But during the warm days this was one of my favorite outfits.

The skirt is a vintage thrifted pleated skirt that I had added a wide elastic band to the waist to modernize a bit. (I added that while skinny, so it’s kinda tight right now.)

It’s a floaty-outy skirt, so I like to imagine it would look sorta similar without my postpartum belly under it. (Which isn’t totally true -- but you tell yourself what you need to, to get to the day. :) )

But wearing it at the natural waist does help. If I pull it up higher than that it does immediately go back to “she’s pregnant."

This shirt is my most reached for thing after those white tees.

I bought it at Target when Bronson was about 2 or 3 weeks old. It was one of the only things that fit over and, looked semi acceptable, on my brand-new-mom body. And it’s looked better and better as time goes on. It’s so comfortable and so versatile. With this skirt it feels classy.

With jeans it feels causal.

By the way for jeans I grabbed a pair from Goodwill for $6 to tide me over since nothing, maternity or otherwise, was fitting and I wanted jeans for Fall weather. Honestly I counted it as a pants miracle that I found them. But I did pray before I ran into the store -- it’s one of those things that could be seen as selfish and vain, but I see it as God’s love ,in a Matthew 6: trust him with the small stuff (which feels big) way.

I don’t remember which jeans I have on in which photos (I had on a few pairs that covered me but didn’t say on right when I sat, before I found the Goodwill pair.) My Goodwill pair fits the best of the stuff I’ve had time to try on since having Bronson -- they aren’t supermodel pants. But they fit. And they cost $6. And kinda awesomely they are Eileen Fisher -- which new run something like $150 - $180. So…pretty sweet $6 find. Even if they are a bit dated and bootcut (which she isn’t selling anymore.) And one extra perk of these particular pants -- they didn’t lable them with a number size, just “medium” and to a postpartum momma that’s kinda awesome. Anyway -- rambling again.

 Layer it over shirts for another look.

I’m off to the library to get this week’s homeschool book load.

Big bags = hiding belly. Form and Function win!

And this outfit is not great, it was born of laundry desperation. 

But I took a very stretchy black tank top and wore it like a bandage mini skirt so I didn’t feel gross with leggings as pants. Good enough for me.

My other very reached for shirt since the weather cooled off is this shirt I’ve had since last fall.

Aw -- look at me all skinny and innocent -- not pregnant yet, not knowing what was about to hit me (42 weeks of feeling like I was dying.) It’s kinda hard for me to look at that girl -- she was so much more optimistic, so much less battered emotionally. But I know I’m wiser and kinder now, so there’s that.

Here I am thinking I just had like 5 more weeks of feeling like crap. ha.

Anway -- the shirt still works. Still comfy.

I gave it a whirl with this skirt. It’s not the best -- but it works.

Tried it with this skirt. Same thing -- not the best outfit I’ve ever seen. But hey it’s an outfit. And for a new mom -- an outfit is a good thing.

I can’t decide if the bagginess is a good or bad thing with my postpartum shape -- but either way, I wear it cause life isn’t about perfection right now. And it’s very very cozy.

I wear this shirt sometimes. I bought it on clearance at Kohl's while I was pregnant.

Pregnant

It’s drapey enough for now to kinda hide stuff. It doesn’t give me my hourglass waist back -- but whatever. I can open it up to nurse in. And I always gravitate towards this blue in clothing.

Postpartum

A couple sundays ago I took my “little” black dress and added the kimono I sewed while pregnant

 

And got something I felt pretty dang stylish in.

 (Snapped the pics on the way out the door.)

So that’s the fun of the capusle -- it gets me to try new layers of things I wouldn’t have thought of before. And sometimes it’s ok and sometimes its great. But it hasn’t ever really been a “WOAH NO.”

Ok, pause, let’s talk ankle boot body science for a minute.

It took me a while to like ankle boots. And part of  that was figuring out how to make them flattering for me. (Short, curvy girl with thick calves. Which is essentially all odds against making these boots work, because they cut you short and add weight.) And while other shoes might be more flattering on me I’ve made them work.

And lately I’ve wanted them to work even more so because my calves are thicker from pregnancy weight so my taller boots aren’t very comfortable. And my other dressy shoes aren’t very warm.

So what I’ve learned is I need my ankle boots to be short enough that you can see my ankle getting smaller. If they are too taller they hid that and it really adds weight.

And with bare legs I use tan boots the way you use nude pumps --- similar color to elongate the legs.

So that was working great until I didn’t want bare legs any more with Fall temps and black leggings are happening.  The combo isn’t bad, but I really wanted black ankle boots to keep the visual elongation happening.

I bought my tan ones at Walmart a couple years ago and love the proportion and haven’t run across black ones like them since.

Until last week -- I found black ones at Walmart now! (See them here.) 

Awesome! Now I’m set. 

(I was willing to pay more, but couldn’t find this portion anywhere else.)

Of course having longer black leggings on would elongate better (and I have longer ones) but I still think this works and looks a little edgy.

The black boots also work nicely with dark jeans, skinny or otherwise.

In other news, I got my hair cut and highlighted yesterday. Thanks to my wonderful mom who came to babysit and a great stylist who took me last minute.

This is something new moms should definitely do --- get ur huir did go get your hair styled (I’m too white to say that lol.) I feel SO much better about myself right now. My hair was just a messy grown-out-from-pregnancy nothingness.

And now I’ve started shedding it by the fist fulls (a postpartum “perk” for those of you who don’t know. You stop shedding any hair while pregnant -- giving that “great pregnancy hair” you hear all about. BUT you lose it all at once starting around 3 months postpartum for months and months your hands and house will be coated in hair. mmmm. I love it -- no. It’s the worst.)

So I felt like all my color from my hair and face was gone. Looking in the mirror -- bad hair, major under eye circles, baby weight -- not fun. But getting your hair done -- ahh, so much (so much) of a mood booster. I can’t recomend it enough to the new mommas. YES, it is really hard to figure out how to accomplish because of babysitter and sometimes babies won’t take bottles. But it was just an afternoon of that stuff.  Yes it’s pricey. But it’s gonna have good mood benefits for DAYSSSS.

Here’s my so-much-longer-than-I-really-wanted-it hair before.

And to be fair it never really looked that good -- this day was a fluke. 

(Which is why I left it down for the one set of photos.)

And then I immediatly put it up in a bun to keep away from baby hands.

Here’s my hair now -- yay! It took me 20 seconds to brush through it. (Prior to the cut  it was, no joke, like a 15 minute affair.)

 

Locals, if you’d like my new found stylist’s info let me know. She did a fantastic job and is really sweet. (She also has curly hair -- which is a bonus if you do as well -- cause she knows the drill.)