The Great Baldening

When I was pregnant, I got a spectacularly backhanded compliment from a woman at my office that went something like this:  "You look so good pregnant!  You have such a healthy glow, and your hair is so thick and full.  You're so much prettier pregnant!"

Um, yeah, thanks.  I think.  

But she was right.  I had awesome pregnancy hair.  While I don't have thick hair, stylists have always commented that I have a lot of it and during pregnancy it just grew and grew.  It felt thick for the first time ever.  It was long and lush and shiny.  I even loved the way it made my face look; it somehow seemed to balance me out better and looked fantastic in pictures. 

I don't know why this GIF exists, but it's awesome.

God, I miss my pregnancy hair.

I always knew that it wouldn't last, and that it would go back to normal somewhere around 3 to 6 months after Q was born.  I even knew that it would fall out in pretty noticeable amounts, and I thought I was prepared for that.

I was SO not prepared for this.  Holy shit, you guys.  Holy shit.  It is falling out like WHOA.  

Every time I shampoo, I pull out handfuls.  I have to be careful to pile it on the side of the tub when I shower lest I clog the drain.  Then, just when I think I'm done and there can't possibly be more, I get out of the shower and dry my hair, following which my bathroom floor looks like the floor of a hair salon and I need to sweep.  Our bathroom garbage can is 87% hair at this point (fact: the other 13% is tissues with spit up and used breast pads).  While I wear my hair in a ponytail most of the time, on the few occasions I've tried to wear it down I just can't make it look right.  It looks thin and flat, and I have giant gaps in my bangs on both sides of my forehead.

Most annoying is the fact that now there is simply hair everywhere.  If I so much as scratch my head or run my fingers through my hair, at least a few strands fall out.  There is constantly one hair that is tickling me somewhere.  I pull it off my husband's shirt before he leaves for work.  I pick it off my child when he plays on the carpet.  I pull it out my vacuum cleaner's brush bristles and wonder if Locks for Love would accept the contents of my vacuum bag as a donation, for they could surely make several childrens' wigs out of it.  And the other day while walking the dog, I pulled it out of my dog's asshole when one turd stubbornly refused to drop, dangling like a pendulum from his butt by a single long brown hair.

Yes, this is a dental floss dispenser shaped like a dog butt.

The day I pull it out of my baby's ass is the day I just shave my fucking head.

Planes, trains and automobiles

Over the past month or so, our little Q has become quite the experienced traveller.  M and I have (bravely?  foolishly?) taken him on a number of adventures to see family and friends, and things have generally gone pretty well.  Here's what we've been up to lately:

Plane:  Just this past weekend we returned from a week-long visit to see my family out east.  Q finally got to meet my niece, who was also crazy excited to meet her baby cousin.  It's a three hour direct flight, which meant we got about an hour's worth of down time while Q napped and then had to entertain him for the other two hours, which wasn't too bad.  The worst part of the entire thing had nothing to do with travelling with a baby, and everything to do with the fact that Air Canada sucks donkey balls.  They've started charging for a checked bag, which is stupid but fine, whatever.  But for some reason, when we checked in online it wouldn't let us pay for the bag we were bringing and kept insisting that we had to go to "check-in assistance" at the airport.  Again, fine, whatever.  We got to the airport in plenty of time on the morning of our departure, only to sit in an unmoving line up for almost an hour until it was getting too close to flight time for our comfort, and we managed to flag someone down to get us through and onto security.  Where we waited in another unmoving line up.  My stress levels over travel are pretty bad at the best of times, but they were off the charts here.  We finally managed to board as the very last passengers on the flight, and I've made a personal commitment never to fly Air Canada again if I can help it.  My next trip home in October (Q and I will be going solo as M has a three-week business trip) I've already booked with another airline.  As M is fond of repeating, Air Canada should really just change its slogan to the following:

Train:  The week before our trip out east, I had the opportunity to meet up with the lovely Daryl, her husband and daughter as they travelled to Ottawa for some visa processing prior to their move overseas.  Q and I rode the rails since Ottawa is about 5 hours from Toronto and I knew from previous experience (see Automobiles, below) that Q wouldn't be able to manage a stretch that long in the car without someone in the backseat to entertain him and M, like a sucker, had to work and couldn't tag along.  I was a bit nervous going it alone with a baby, but needn't have been thanks to the fact that I took M's advice and booked a business class ticket.  It gave me loads of extra room and there was no one sitting next to me, so I was able to put Q in his carseat either on the floor or the seat beside me to play with him or when I needed some hands free time.  Also, business class = free booze so you can bet mama took advantage of that on the ride home later that evening.  

No, YOU'VE got a drinking problem!!*

Meeting Daryl was awesome.  We hooked up for lunch at a small Italian restaurant after her family's visa appointment and between the two of us flashed more boob than I think that establishment has seen in forever.  It was my first in-person bloggy friend meeting and I can attest to the fact that not only is she NOT a crazy serial killer, but she is in fact a warm and wonderful person whose baby girl has the most gorgeous eyes on the planet.  I'm so glad I braved the trip there to meet her and wish her and her family all the best in their new life across the pond!

Automobile:  This one was the most ambitious and definitely the most challenging.  Ever since we've been together M and I have joined his parents as often as possible on their annual beach trip to Maine at the end of July.  We missed it last year due to our trip to Prague and a friend's wedding in Vancouver, plus this year we were eager to bring Q along for his first ever ocean vacation.  The drive from Toronto to Maine is just over 12 hours, depending on how long you get stuck at the border, so we knew we'd have to cut the drive into two days (we usually just take shifts driving and power through) if any of us were going to survive it with our sanity intact.  The going was pretty slow.  One of us had to be in the back seat with Q at all times to keep him entertained.  Unfortunately he was on a half-hour napping kick, so we were pretty much only able to drive in 1.5 hour stretches as follows:  first half hour pleasant but growing increasingly tired and grumpy until he dropped off to sleep, second half hour napping (seriously, you could set your watch by this kid), third half hour awake and pleasant at first but increasingly cranky and impatient to be out of his carseat.  Then we'd find somewhere to stop for a coffee or lunch and give him about a half hour to stretch his legs and look at some new scenery, before getting back into the car and doing it all over again.  I wish I could say it was worth it, but as I mentioned in a previous post Q wasn't sleeping great while we were there so it ended up being a tougher week than anticipated.  He didn't even really like the beach or the water; he seemed afraid of the waves and howled when his toes were dipped for the first time, which was pretty disappointing for his beach-loving grandparents.  I'm sure next year will be a different story as we frantically try to chase him down and stop him from eating sand, but this year was a bit of a wash.

I will wear your lobster onesie, but I will not like it.

Anyway, that's all the doings and happenings around here lately.  All the travelling and the lack of nap-taking has made me a terrible commenter, but rest assured I'm still reading along.  I just usually have to do it on the go on my phone, which is horrible for commenting.  I promise to do better!  

*Glass was empty and previously held only water.  I am not an incompetent parent, just one who gets creative with her iPhone camera when bored.