Forensic Evidence (and some more tears)

Exhibit A. Hair. Stephanie's hair. Found disembodied on the family room floor. Clearly, a miniature crime had been committed. I'm not sure why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to collect as much of the hair as possible and put it in a bag. So I did. And it's still in the bag. (What should I do with it? It's beautiful rich brown, curly hair. Yes. Natural curl.)

At the time of the crime, I was preparing to cut her hair myself. Well--trim it really. I had given the boys their haircuts the night before and she wanted her turn. So I set the kit down (did NOT know she could open it) and came back 5 minutes later. She was not there, but the hair was.

I tried not to show sadness. I didn't want her to feel TOO bad about it. I think she figured she could put it back on whenever she wanted, and when I looked sad, she started crying. So I told her she looked so pretty and I loved her hair. But really, how could I? She had given herself a mullet. A bad mullet. Wait... is there any other kind?

Just for context, here are a couple photos of her beautiful hair BEFORE the self-do:

See? Didn't I tell you? It was Bee-you-tiful! (Yes, I know. It will be again. But still... this cut came right before the visit of both sets of grandparents.)

And...here's the mullet:

And here's the result after a friend fixed it for us. I say "us" because it hurts me as much as it hurts Stephanie to have this hair gone. Probably more.

She's still pretty cute, though, isn't she? And the curl is still fabulous. Lucky little thing! Now she keeps saying things to me about her hair that let me know she's sad about it. She asked me later in the day of the fix-it cut, "Mommy? Can you see my hair? I can't see my hair." Another day, she told me, "Mommy, my hair is not working. It needs to go down." Then this morning she asked me for braids.

Clearly, this is my first girl. I can just feel some of you sneering about how idiotic it was for me to leave her alone with the kit. But I'm an amateur girl mom. I honestly didn't know. Still... I guess there's no use crying over cut hair.

Bloody Trail (and some tears)

      This was the sight that awaited me outside my bedroom door on Wednesday. Drops of blood in various sizes, along with a couple of blobs of some other unidentified liquid. The bloody trail continued down the stairs, so I followed it, wondering why there was no yelling coming from anywhere nearby. At the end of the trail was the cat, sitting under the kitchen table and trying to shake off the blood-soaked fur on his left cheek.

      Mako is a fighter. He defends his home territory and his beloved family with ferocity and great courage, but he does so without front claws. So he is also a loser. I'm guessing that, amongst the neighborhood animals, he is something of a joke. Another cat seeing him approach would be a bit nervous--he weighs 15 pounds and is "big-boned" (if one can use that term for a feline). But the moment the yowling turns into paw-batting and claw-striking, the other cat realizes Mako is an easy target. Let me take a moment here to say for any PETA people out there that we did not declaw him--he came to us that way.

      About a week before these photos were taken, Mako had been in yet another neighborhood brawl and had a good-sized puncture wound on the side of his face to show for it. We were "keeping an eye on it" to see that it healed properly. Translation: we didn't want to pay for a vet visit unless absolutely necessary. Nathan kept telling us Mako really needed to see a vet. And we assured him we had the situation well in hand. Monday, his cheek started to get swollen and I said, "If it's not better in a couple of days, I'll take him in." (Eric, I think, preferred to let Mako take the risk of infection and death, rather than go the vet route. Death of the cat is the ideal solution in his mind.)

     While I called the vet Wednesday morning (two days too late), Mako sat by the front door itching his face and waiting to be let out. When he rubbed his cheek with his paw, fresh blood splattered over the area. The photo below looks like it's from a crime scene.

       I wish I could have gotten a good photo BEFORE the vet visit and resulting clean-up, but I had to settle for just the AFTER photo, which is this one:

      The vet informed us that Mako's original wound had resulted in an abcess, which then swelled until it literally burst out the side of his face (because we didn't take him in when we should have). So now, for the tears... we had to pay for a vet visit that included his clean-up, an anti-biotic, a cream for the wound, and some kitty pain medication. Next time, we'll know better, I guess, right?

Happy November 1st

You can tell a lot about people from their garbage. Go ahead. Guess my weight. Just kidding.

What I love most about Halloween... wait... let me re-phrase that... what I love about Halloween... wait... one more try... the ONLY thing I really love about Halloween...is the candy. I do not get excited about any other aspect of Halloween. No, coming up with costumes doesn't thrill me. The mess of carving a pumpkin is something I dread (and skillfully avoid, by having Eric take charge of it--"But you're so much better at it than I am, Eric!") Trick-or-treating always seems like it will be fun, but then the youngest inevitably wants to be done before the other kids and is whining to be carried, the oldest wants to go it alone--where's the fun in that? And the poor middle child has a malfunctioning costume (once again), so he's walking like a penguin while his mummy bandages droop closer and closer to the ground. And then, of course, there's the sugar-induced mood swings, not to mention what the sugar does to the kids. :) But I sure do love all that free chocolate.

So it is with a substantial amount of sugar-induced glee that I say to you, "Happy November 1st!" Halloween is finally over and we can move on to the classier adornments of autumn.

Oh--and here are my adorable children, loving Halloween against my better judgment:

And here are their pumpkins:

The above is a mummy with crazy eyes, though it bears a resemblance to a sort of free-form artistic owl, in my opinion. Below is Nathan's, which he carved pretty much by himself.

2011 Halloween. Done. Check it off.