Day 14 (Sunday, day 2 since last wash): Today even though it was TWO days since I last washed, my hair felt more like it usually does just after washing. It's working! Two weeks in and I think my hair and scalp are starting to get the idea. Tim and I both noticed that my hair feels softer, and has a more consistent texture all the way to the tips (which had been feeling dry and a bit stiff).
Day 15 (Monday, day 3 since last wash): By the end of the day Monday, my hair was starting to get oily. Despite that, I still had it down when we went to the Polar Express party at the local library. What fun! I'm SO glad our local library is child-friendly now (what? a public library wasn't child friendly? Not when we first moved here, but that's a story for another time).
Day 16 (Tuesday, day 4 since last wash): We have a date tonight (YIPPEEE!!!) so I used my dry shampoo. I've had it in a ponytail today but I'm planning an updo for tonight. I took two pictures so you can see how it perked back up after the dry shampoo rather than being kinda slicked down to my head.
|Before, hugging kinda close to my head, bleh.|
|After a little dry-shampoo pick-me-up!|
We had four "tomcat" good old fashioned wood base mouse traps to work with. Tim had read somewhere on the internet that jamming a peanut on the little bait area made them have to jiggle the trap (read, DIE). So he loaded them up, and we retired to our room for a while.
It was probably less than an hour or so later that Tim checked the traps and every last one of them was empty. No peanut, no mouse. Great. We just fed the thing for the next week. Back to peanut butter.
Tori woke up at some point, and I had peaked a glance at one of the traps but didn't see anything. Either my eyes were sleep-bleary and my mind unobservant, or the mouse happened by later because the little booger was lucky 3 out of 4 times. All the peanut butter was gone ... but there it was, dead.
We set the traps out again Sunday night ... just in case. Alas, we caught another mouse. Right by the hole in the weather stripping on the back door ... so I'm telling myself it was just coming in from outside and never knew what hit it. There are still two in the cabinet under the sink which remain untripped and loaded so I'm praying this is the end of the mousecapades.
The mall, oh the mall. So we still had some Christmas shopping to do. Sunday we went to the Post Oak Mall. A decade (or so, ahem ...) when I was a student at A&M this mall would have been relatively deserted even the weekend before Christmas. All the students had gone home and it wasn't exactly a booming mall at that time.
Not anymore. The parking lot was nearly full. So we took off with our two girls in tow. We didn't do too bad really. We scampered a little ways and ducked into Payless ... check two items off our list in one store. Then I realized Victoria had finally had the poop I'd been waiting on her to have. No big deal. We needed to split up anyways. Shelby and the stroller went with Tim.
Tori and I darted through the mall, feeling like we were going against the flow no matter which side we were on, and just as I got to the inevitable long bland hallway to the bathrooms - I realized the situation was perhaps worse than I realized. The family changing room loomed, open doored, before me and I ducked inside.
Just in time. Her diaper was failing in the front and I could tell her onesie was saturated with poosplosion. Thankfully she was wearing a onesie/pants/hoodie outfit and the pants and hoodie I was able to remove untainted. I wrapped her onesie in paper towels and gave our poor screaming child a baby-wipes-bath until I realized there was warm running water and an unbelievably filled paper towel dispenser. Praise God! I left one wipe in the changing pad stash and cleaned her up.
Now she was looking at me with a tear-stained face and a pouty lip - what did you just do to me? I know there has been a lot of publicity about "public" breastfeeding in its various forms - but I LOVE breastfeeding in a changing room! Its roomy, I don't have to worry about being judged or accidentally flashing someone, and my baby isn't distracted. I'll never understand why some find it an insult to be asked to use one. A bathroom yes, but not a changing room.
As we exited back into the food court (always the same places, just constantly changing names with the decades) I looked for the closest department store. Macy's, where we had just come in. Fine, no problem! On our way back to where I knew the fitting rooms to be (we passed them on our way in) I suddenly see Tim and Shelby. Oh hi husband! OH! WAIT! He's probably buying my Christmas present. Good grief. He still doesn't believe me that I didn't see anything.
We managed to survive the mall on the Sunday before Christmas, but I won't knowingly do it again. The girls did great despite the blow-out. Though Ms. Shelby convinced herself that the triple-stacked pyramids of red gift-boxes decorating the Macy's department store contained pink candy, and she was a little upset we were leaving without any.
Lucky for us Harbio Gummy Frogs were an adequate substitute to reward her for being on her awesomest best behavior in a less-than-2-year-old-friendly situation.