Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Thanks to all those prenatal vitamins, my hair had grown to almost Cher-like proportions. It was longer than it had ever been. Yet I grew increasingly tormented by my uncharacteristically long and flowing mane, at once both enamored by its greatness and vexxed by its maintenance. I determine, sadly, that it is impossible to have both long hair and a baby. Here are three of my most menacing issues:

Grooming (or lack thereof). With an infact, sometimes showering is a luxury, given various time constraints (see entry titled Five-Month Retrospective below). Say I have to choose between eating and showering. Five times out of five, I am going to eat. Which means, my long Cher hair can look pretty greasy several times a week. I imagine a cute bob-like cut might not look as stringy (and would require less time blowing dry).

Vomit. I worry that cute bob-like cut will look like a "mom 'do"--like the Stepford Wives haircut of the stay-at-home-mom set. Then something happens. Cass vomits in my hair, but I do not realize this fact for several hours, allowing just enough time for substance to sour, crust and set. And, of course, we already know I don't have time to shower. I decide that walking around with vomit in my hair is much worse (and far more telling) than any "mom 'do" could ever be.

Physical Pain. Some of my very sweetest moments with Cass--like when I'm nursing him in the dark of my bedroom before tucking him into his crib at night--find him laying peacefully across my stomach, one hand gently stroking my arm, the other curled around a lock of my hair, twirling the ends between his fingers. But the rest of the day, he grabs it ferociously, yanking with all his tiny might, using angry fistfuls of my hair to hoist him up and up and up until I wonder if I might faint.

Now for the kicker, taken just one day after getting my new mom 'do. I might find this really funny, if I didn't miss my Cher hair so much.

In or Out

Cass turned six months this week, leaving his newborn self in the dust. We’re only a few days into it, but already, six months has ushered in a series of life-changing advancements for our little casserole: bigger car seat, more foodstuffs (chunkier you-know-what), and a brand-new repertoire of faces, moods and noises. During this new phase, we're discovering some striking similarities between babies and fashion. Like the host of my favorite television show likes to say (and opposite the order of Cass’ belly button), one day you’re in, and the next day you’re…OUT.

Out: Nature’s Touch Papasan Cradle Swing
In: Real park swings (no fake nature sounds required)

Out: Swaddling, kimono-style snap-ups and booties
In: Jeans, button-down shirts and furry boots

Out: 7 pounds and 11 ounces
In: 18.5 pounds!

Out: Rattles, mobiles and teething rings
In: Computers, cell phones and remote controls

Out: Fuzzy baby hair, soft as bunny pelt
In: The luxurious locks of a full-grown man

Cass' First Halloween

Cass was a sweet and incredibly agreeable little garden gnome last night. There was no beard pulling (or eating). He didn't try to yank off his pointy hat, or show even the first sign of discomfort or anxiety about the whole glorious ensemble. He didn't try to kick off his wee sherpa-inspired boots, like he does his socks (natch: Whole Foods last weekend, when nearly every concerned shopper in the joint remarked, as if we were exposing his single bare foot to sub-zero winter storm conditions, that, holy crap!, he was missing a sock!! Call the DCFS!!!).

Curiously, however, Cass did show an intense fascination for the candy bowl. Leaning over the side of the bowl, sticking both hands in greedily and rifling like mad, Cass would throw pieces over his head like some sort of crazy gnome, eventually emerging with a single bar, which immediately went in his mouth. Perhaps the desire to devour miniature candy bars is as instictual as the rooting reflex. Something to think about.

Click to see more gnome photos