...April Fools...

Look at how cute!!!

I short-sheeted the bed and he didn't even notice!

Well, he noticed, but he didn't realize he'd been pranked. When I asked if he had gotten into bed, he said, "Babe, you made the bed wrong." Even as I was laughing he still didn't understand. I said "April Fools'" and told him I had short-sheeted our bed. He laughed, both at the joke and himself for not realizing he had been pranked. It was seriously unsatisfying...

I spent the evening gathering pictures of Andy, from baby up until his graduation, which I will hang in the shape of a 30 in our dining room on Thursday night. I loved watching his sweet face go from baby, to teenager, to man. Andy is the kind of person that gets more attractive as he gets older. While I've loved getting older, last week I had my first negative experience with aging.

Animal lover

I went to a salon that I've been going to for years to get my hair dyed back to my natural color. In fact, I've done so much to my hair (pink, purple, blue, calico, red, bleached out) that I'm not sure what that color might be. I vaguely remember a brunette staring back at me from a mirror at one point in my life before I began experimenting. So I found a picture of warm, chocolate brown hair with honey highlights, marched into the salon and set my stylist to work.

I marched out with a head full of jet black hair.

I look like Snow White...or a goth princess...or Morticia. Against my pale white skin, it's pretty shocking. One student whispered, "Mommy, why did Ms. Sharon paint her hair black?"

My mother always said it was only hair and it would grow back. But as I creep closer to 100, I have to wonder, does it? Does it really? My dad would say no.

I was hoping to walk out looking like my old (ie. younger) self. As I repeatedly washed through my hair, thoughts raced through my mind. Had I ruined my chances? Would I never look normal again? Was all of my experimenting catching up with me? Would I regret it for the rest of my life?

My reaction surprised me. Entrenched in birthday mode, I began to realize that my distress was directly related to growing older. I've loved getting older, but do we reach a moment when all that changes? In truth, I'm still processing through my thoughts and emotions. You're welcome to speak into my life and share your own experiences.

Nearly a week post appointment, I'm still hopeful that that simple, brunette girl is still somewhere in there. If anyone can resurrect her, it's my stylist. She really is quite wonderful, despite our obvious miscommunication.