Crowning Glory

I was born bald. When my hair finally grew, it was very fair. I now have dark hair. My mum often mentions that I was her fairest child and yet I am now her darkest.

But hair colour is not what this post is about.

Some of you know me as she of the curly hair. If you fall into this category, you probably went to school with me or knew me before I turned 17. Many of you have no idea I have curly hair.

My hair is curly. And very frizzy. Over the years, I have subjected my hair to several treatments in an attempt to make it less so. All to no avail. My hair remains curly, which technically I could live with. But to my horror, it has also remained frizzy.



Cute on a (grumpy!!) kid, not so great on an adult.

Washing my hair is a huge event. Wet hair will always be followed by approximately 45 minutes of drying time. My hair gets tugged and pulled and straightened to within an inch of it's life so that I can, until the next time I need to wash it (or the next time I forget an umbrella when it rains), pretend that it is actually naturally not frizzy. It is for this reason that hair washing needs to be planned. Scheduled. It can not simply happen on an ad hoc basis.

I could never be a person who washes her hair every day. It would eat into my week too dramatically. This has, over my lifetime, impacted things that anyone else may never think of, like exercising. There was a time when I was getting into running quite a bit. Part of me would have gladly gone out running every evening. I loved it and the time it gave me to be out, feeling the wind against my face and just enjoying my own company. But alas, a good run works up a sweat. After which I would need a head-to-toe shower. Problem.

I won't lie: it's not the first time I've gone to bed with a sweaty head. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to deal with my hair.

I hate that I am not able to walk in the rain without a care in the world. I hate that rain turns me into a fretful "must cover my hair lest it detects humidity" bimbo.

There are times when I attempt to "wash & go". Each time, I hope that maybe - just maybe - my curls have been visited by the frizz fairy and they will magically look like this once dry (that's the closest image I could find to what my hair might look like sans frizz). Or that something clicks in my head and I am suddenly able to look at myself in the mirror and not care. Each time, I regret it. The frizz fairy is about as real as the tooth fairy and my hair still thinks it's a bona fide Jackson Five hairstyle. And I still hate it.

(I should clarify at this point that "wash & go" in my case should not be taken literally. It involves a plethora of sprays, creams, lotions and potions that I have tried over the years. Some things have worked for a few weeks. But ah, my hair is smarter than that.)

Is there a point to all this? No. I simply needed to vent. Because at this point - even carrying an extra 30lbs that I am desperate to lose - if you had to ask me what I'd change about myself, I may stop to think about it, but ultimately I know that my answer would be my hair. I would give anything not to have this silent dictator seemingly ruling my everyday life. /rant

Group Hug!

On Saturday, we attended the first birthday party of a fellow NCT baby - Emily's good friend, Joshua! The babies mostly spent their time hogging the ball pit and there came a point where someone (it may have been me) had the great idea to try and get an updated group picture. On paper it was simple. In reality, it looked like a giant baby pile-up. Us parents found it quite hilarious... I'm not entirely sure the little ones were as amused ;)

From this (Feb 2011), to this...

A January Christmas Recap

I blinked and it is almost mid-January. Seems a bit pointless now to be talking about Christmas, if I'm honest. All the decorations are down and packed away for another year and all I can think about now is Emily's birthday. January will never again be an anti-climatic month. I didn't expect it, but I was far more eager to de-Christmas the house this year - and there can only be one reason. Emily's birthday is even more important to me now than Christmas is. I never thought I'd say it and yet there it is. I've typed it out. It's true.

But for posterity's sake, Christmas was perfect. Emily was thrilled to finally be allowed at the gifts and she even loved opening her stocking. I had thoroughly expected her to only be interested in the paper, but no... she was frustrated at the paper. Because it was keeping her away from the goodies hidden underneath it.

Her stocking contained a Waybuloo DVD, a set of hairbands (her hair is growing fast!), two packets of Milky Buttons (she'd never tasted chocolate before Christmas, ignoring the time she stole a bite off my KitKat but that's another story), some bath toys, a little racing car, That's Not My Snowman touchy-feely book, the Hungry Caterpillar soft toy, and a soft Robot doll. It was a full stocking, I don't deny that. But her favourite was the Waybuloo DVD. She'd put it down, pick up something else, and then go back for the DVD. She just gazed at it most of the time with a silly, lovestruck look on her face.



As for other gifts, we limited that to two from us, and two from Santa. Then there were another three from the great-/grandparents, and a few others from friends (not to mention the huge amount that flooded in once we got to Malta!). By the end of the morning, it looked like a toyshop had crashed into our living room.

Lunch was nothing special. I went all out last year for exactly this reason - I knew that this year, it would be the last thing on my mind. I didn't want to miss out on a moment of Emily's first Christmas.

Unfortunately the excitement of the morning meant her nap ran almost an entire hour longer than it usually does and as both David and I felt it would be wrong to eat dinner without her, we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And by the time she was up, the turkey wasn't impressed to have been left waiting and as a result wasn't the juiciest it could have been. And as we had nibbled so much cheese to keep us going until she got up, we had no appetite. So in the end, Emily ate more turkey than David or I did and the Banoffee Pie I'd bought for dessert became our midnight snack. It was all quite confusing but it did make me realise that it was silly of me to be cooking turkey for tradition's sake when, if I had to be completely honest, I don't even really like it. So next Christmas I shall be making a delicious lasagne.

But back to the point. We then sauntered over to my sister's where - Emily could hardly believe it - more presents awaited.



And that was pretty much it really. There was almost no time to really enjoy the spoils of Christmas Day as early the next morning, we were off! But that rainbow kept its word, so it was all worth it in the end.

Quiet Words

While in Malta over New Year, we had our usual family gathering where my extended family got to catch up with us and see Emily. Just before leaving, my grandmother made my day when she said to me: "I'm very proud of you for the way you're bringing up your daughter."

I can't quite express how much that touched me and how proud it made me :)



Thank you Nanna x

[image taken in June 2011 in Malta]

When a Rainbow Makes a Promise

Our last holiday in Malta was less than wonderful. A lot less. We got home feeling so stressed, I didn't want to consider going back anytime soon. The fact that we had already booked our December flights was not a great feeling. So when I uploaded our holiday photos onto Facebook back in October, I joked about a picture of a rainbow I took when we arrived at the airport. I said that the rainbow was there to reassure me that next visit would be better.

We flew out on Boxing Day. I was already not pleased about this as I wanted to be at home on Boxing Day, to be able to soak up any left over Christmasness and not have to pack on Christmas Day itself, and for Emily to have some more time to enjoy her new toys. We initially wanted to fly out on the 27th but when we booked flights, the 27th was £400 more expensive than the 26th was, so really there wasn't much to consider. We booked the 26th and I dreaded it each time I thought of it.

On the morning of the 26th, we set out a bit too late and almost missed our flight. I had already written off the holiday and just wanted to go back home. But we made it and it was actually an excellent flight and Emily napped well. Things started looking a bit more positive.

When we landed, the weather in Malta was awful. Grey and rainy. But once we got out of the plane, the sun came out. And there, again, was a rainbow. Call me silly but at that moment, smiling to myself, I thought that maybe it was true: this holiday would be better.

Oh it most certainly was!