Tuesday, March 27, 2012

When I was blonde and scrawny

My Grandma Florence always used to refer to this time in her life when she was "blonde and scrawny" (her words), but none of us could ever figure out when that time in her life could possibly have been because to the best of our knowledge she had never been either.  To her credit, she is quite trim in her wedding photo (she and Grandpa would have gotten married in 1932 or was it 1933?), but she maintained that the wedding photo was not taken until some time after the wedding because her own mother told her she was "too scrawny" to have her picture taken on the actual wedding date.  But her hair is clearly dark in the wedding photo, as it is in every other picture I have ever seen of her.  I think, possibly, she may have been embellishing a bit on the issue of being blonde and scrawny.

As for myself, I suppose there are some (my mother probably) who would consider me scrawny.  I'm not sure if that is true though.  Generally speaking, a size 2 is gigantic on me, but I still look like an over-fed walrus compared to most women around me.  Particularly college girls, who I am surrounded by most of the time (since I work on a college campus).  I weigh the same or less than before I had Will, but nothing is in the same place, and it is kind of depressing.

No one would consider me blonde, at least I didn't think so.  I've always had dark hair.  My sister was the blonde one.  I never wanted to be blonde, but when I was younger I dyed my hair red several times because I really liked Anne of Green Gables.

The other day I was walking across campus with a friend/coworker, and I was complaining about my hair, which at this moment in time is reminiscent of what Gilda Radner would have looked like if she'd ever stuck her finger in a light socket.

Hair gilda

Anyway, I made some reference to my hair being brown, and my friend/coworker did a double take.  "I wouldn't say you have brown hair," she said.  "Maybe it's more of a dark blonde."

Me, blonde?

To be fair, the ends of my hair are a completely different color than the roots, and not because I've done anything to it.  They've just gotten bleached out over time and hundreds of miles running in the sun since my last haircut.

But still, it was quite unexpected that someone might ever think of me as blonde.  I can see myself, someday, elderly and perhaps sitting in a rocking chair, telling William of a time long ago when I was blonde and scrawny.  And I can see him reacting with the same kind of incredulity we always did when Grandma made those claims.


Monday, March 12, 2012

Dear William (31 months)

Dear William

Today you are 31 months old!  This past month you took your first ever international trip.The entire family unit went to Nicaragua, to visit the village where your mama studied howler monkeys for a year.  Your dad ran an ultra marathon called Fuego y Agua.  It was intense.  You can read all about it here, here, here, here and here!

The thing I loved most about this whole trip was seeing the way you interacted with others.  You don't have a shy bone in your body, William.  You don't know a stranger.  Everyone is your friend.  My first indication was when we were on the ferry going to Ometepe and you saw a little girl about your age.  You announced to me, "I GO PLAY WITH BABY," and that is exactly what you did.  You are adorable.  For the rest of the trip you played with everyone you met.  You learned a few spanish words.  Caballo, agua, and vamos were (and still are) some of your favorite things to say.


Making friends

By the dock


You loved Nicaragua, William.  I can't wait until we go back.  I am already planning to take you backpacking through Central America during your summer vacations from school.


A few other things have happened this month:

You figured out how to ride a tricycle.  You've been riding a trike for a while now, but by running your feet along the ground, Fred Flinstone style.  It was only recently that you decided to use the pedals.


You are a bit dramatic (though that is nothing new).  Instead of saying that you don't want to do something right now, you frequently add the qualifier anymore.  For example, "I NO POOP ON POTTY ANYMORE!" Or, "I NO PUT ON SHOES ANYMORE!"  Or, "I NO EAT APPLE ANYMORE!"  Speaking of eating, you are still a difficult eater.  But sometimes you eat cinnamon toast:

Cinnamon toast


You still love dinosaurs.

He lets out a mighty ROAR


You have a fear of rabbits. About 75% of the time you cry in the night and end up joining us in Mommy and Daddy's bed. I ask you why you don't want to sleep in your own bed and you say, "I SCAREDA RABBIT. HE UP ON DA HILL." Not sure where you got that from. The other day you had a rough nap time and didn't end up sleeping. I asked you why, and you cited your fear of rabbits again, except this time you added, "I GOTTA ALLIGATOR IN MY BELLY." Hm.

Whether you sleep in your own bed or in "Mommy Daddy Bed" (as you call it), you require quite an entourage:


(Your dad bought you Sully and Wazowski after we got back from Nicaragua! Aren't you lucky!)


Oh, and your dad got a new car this month.  I am calling it the "Family Roadster."  You have ridden in it once, I think, but I never have yet!  Maybe next month.



We love you, William!




Your mom :)