I had my hair done today and I was overdue, per usual. My ends were stringy; I had roots. Basically I was one missed shampoo shy of looking like a homeless woman. I’m really bad about pushing it. When I met with clients at work face-to-face I was much better about the hair upkeep. Now I interact solely on the phone or via e-mail with clients so the need to maintain my hair just sort of takes a back seat. I still refuse to wear a scrunchie outside the house, though.

My hair dresser up and quit yesterday so I got to see the owner of the salon as they were shuffling appointments. This was really a treat since the salon owner charges close to three times what my hairdresser charged, does spots on local TV, and her clients include a lot of local broadcast TV personalities.

I have a photographer I can recommend, but since she’s only 6, you’ll have to provide transportation as her Barbie scooter limits her to our driveway.

The salon owner basically said what I already knew, sitting there in the chair in my black smock, looking at my fried ends that definitely took some damage at the beach. I was too blonde, so she toned it down.

But then she asked me if I’d noticed hair loss after I had Miss A. And I had to say yes. I remember taking a shower and pulling out strands of hair every time I shampooed. She showed me how my new hair growth was thinning out. Visions of me as a little old lady with bald spots and wearing support hose ran through my mind.

So now mama’s got her some new fancy shampoo and conditioner for thinning hair.

Hey, I still don’t have any gray, though.

7 a.m. People are soooooo going to buy my sh*t!

8 a.m. Come on people, it’s time to buy my sh*t!

9 a.m. People are actually buying my sh*t!

11 a.m. Is anyone going to buy any more of my sh*t?

Noon. I’ll pay you to take my sh*t!

My mom and I survived our yard sale Saturday. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and at the end of the day I had a nice farmer’s tan from my shoulders down. Now if I could only get my legs to tan and not blend into my khaki shorts.

The past week or so I’ve been running on caffeine and end of the school year adrenaline and find myself doing everything via the seat of my pants, especially with a thousand loose ends to tie up before summer vacation. My mom, on the other hand, is very organized and meticulous, so thankfully our conflicting styles didn’t clash and the sale went off without a hitch, although I temporarily lost my money bag (i.e. zippered pencil pouch) with all my hard-earned cash. I made a whopping $50 and change, but that was my conservative goal, so I was fine with that. A family expecting another baby and with two young children in tow bought our jog stroller and car seat and I felt good about them finding a good home. I didn’t have any high dollar items, such as furniture, but wanted to clear out our overstuffed closets and junk drawers. When every drawer in your home is living up to its potential to be a junk drawer, you know it’s time to purge. Miss C had filled a large garbage bag with stuffed animals deemed “not pretty” over the holidays and she’d never missed them, so on to the yard sale they went.

In one of those karma yard sale moments, someone found a coin from our long gone vintage 1970s Fisher Price cash register in a box of hodge-podge toys that Miss C and I had thrown together last week for the sale. It was a blue coin, and the woman told me she had just bought the very same classic toy cash register and that was the one coin that was missing.

I advertised our sale on Craigslist and within hours got an e-mail from someone with a local charity who was willing to pick up what was left over, so clean up was pretty minimal. Still, I’m not sure I’ll have another yard sale for several more years or maybe ever. I’m thinking I may be better suited for yard sale shopping. Miss C and I hit two yard sales weekend before last and I bought a Hello Kitty t-shirt, a new Hello Kitty notebook with stickers, a My Little Pony Ponyville play set, a book, and a Barbie for a whopping $6.75!

Dear Grandmotherly Type in the White Chevy Malibu:

Why, oh why, did you have to do a flagrant u-turn in the school parking lot yesterday so you could cut in front of my car?

Yes, it was raining, but you had an umbrella.

And I did not.

The Bijon Frise sporting a Santa hat riding in the mini van in front of me today totally made up for yesterday, though.

Signed,

Blonde Mom

p.s. I finally mailed our Christmas cards yesterday. And you?

Last night when the hubby got home from work the Christmas tree was illuminating our front window, supper was ready, the girls were peacefully coloring at the kitchen table (although they were teetering precariously at the great yawning edge of the abyss heretofore known as endless whining and bickering), and I was playing an Elvis Christmas CD. I felt like a vertitable modern day June Cleaver I tell you! He will never tell, but for a moment he just might have thought his family had been abducted by aliens.

The holidays can be a stressful time, with parties to attend, presents to wrap throw into last year’s gift bags, and mile-long to do lists to plow through. Here are some of my tips for saving time and stress:

Order your holiday cards this week if you haven’t already done so. I ordered 100 photo cards from Winkflash yesterday for less than $40! They are running a great special and the prices are cheaper than WalMart. (Savvy shopping mamas around the world swoon!)

Buy your holiday stamps online. That’s right. You can go directly to the U.S. Postal Service’s website, order stamps, and have them mailed to you. You might think this is silly, but I can’t tell you how nice it is to avoid one more trip to the post office this month. And it costs a whopping $1 for the convenience.

If you are really into convenience and you aren’t on a tight budget, Hallmark offers a service where they will address and ship your cards for you. I’ve never tried this, but one of my friends has. For a $1.25 per card, Hallmark will even have a staff member handwrite your personal greeting. They also have gorgeous photo card templates to choose from. Of course I think it might be odd to get a card with someone else’s handwriting, but this might be a great option if you have a very large number of cards to send.

I am no longer a mall rat, but if you have a day of power shopping planned at your local mall, take advantage of their gift wrapping service. Just be prepared to stand in line, although some malls will offer a drop-off option. I’m not a big fan of wrapping presents now that I have small children and must lock myself away at midnight in the bathroom in order to get any wrapping done, not to mention the fact that the first word that comes to the mind of Miss A when she sees a beautifully wrapped package is DESTROY!

Recycle your holiday gift bags from year to year. I think this is the third year the Sesame Street bag will appear under the tree. You’ve got to love Grover in a Santa hat.

Learn to say no. You don’t have to attend every event or party you are invited to, now do you Miss Paris Hilton?

Make a shopping list and stick with it. Your wallet will thank you. And honestly sit down and ask yourself if you can remember who gave you what for Christmas last year. Think about it.

Shop online and check out a website such as Current Codes for the latest discount codes for free shipping and other good deals. For out of town gifts, remember that Amazon will gift wrap and ship the item directly to to the recipient. If you’re super lame and forgot someone on your list or are completely out of time and resources, you can e-mail a gift card at literally the last minute.

Purchase a few inexpensive generic gifts, such as holiday candy or a pretty embroidered hand towel, for those impromptu holiday lunches. It’s good to keep a couple of bottles of wine on hand, too. The bonus is you can drink them if you don’t give them away.

Cook suppers with staying power. In the winter I like to make heartier meals that provide at least one night of leftovers. Last night I made this Southern Living skillet taco recipe and it was a big hit. I know my psyche is shoring up for a long winter when KFC commercials start to look appealing. (I am a fan of the original recipe variety as well as the mashed potatoes and gravy. Dang, that is some good sodium-laden shizzle.)

And one last thing, don’t forget that the holiday memories that will have the most impact on your children involve the gift of your time. Take the time to drive around your neighborhood to look at holiday lights (and the cynical among us adults can snicker at the neighbor with the gawdiest amount of inflatable lawn ornaments), put on a Bing Crosby CD and bake a batch of sugar cookies, and sit down to read a holiday book, talk about the true Christmas story, or watch a holiday DVD.

So, what are some of your holiday sanity savers? Add them to the comments!

p.s. Feeling the need to get the heck out of Dodge? One of the ads in rotation on my sidebar is for a five-night Tuscany getaway sponsored by PAM (complete with airfare and cooking lessons for two.) Check it out! 

With apologies to Laura Numeroff, children’s author of “If You Give a Pig a Pancake.”

If you give a man a beer at a football game, he might just want another beer.

He will down the beer rather quickly because it’s so hot out.

Because it is so hot out, he will want another beer.

When he drinks that beer he’ll get the munchies and buy another round of beer for his friends while he’s out.

While he’s out he’ll see the daiquiri stand and buy an overpriced strawberry daquiri.

After he drinks the second beer and the overpriced strawberry daiquiri he’ll start sweating alcohol and talking about armpit sweat runoff.

When you overhear his crazy armpit sweat runoff talk, he’ll give you the “this guy is toast by halftime” vibe.

As halftime approaches his girlfriend will shift from embarrassment to true mortification and start talking on her flip phone.

When she closes her flip phone she’ll give her girlfriend the “let’s get the hell out of here” look.

Her girlfriend’s date will also be drinking at a fairly rapid pace, but he wisely avoids the overpriced daiquiris.

When the girls leave for the restroom the obnoxious drunk boyfriend will flip off the opposing team with both hands and use the F word because apparently the double flip off wasn’t enough. (There is another beer or two consumed at some point, but I started losing track and obviously so did he.)

The F word will make the surrounding parents pivot and glare.

The glaring will make his girlfriend, who is returning from the restroom, wonder what he’s been up to.

The more she wonders what he’s been up to the more she wants to leave.

They’ll leave the game after half time, because by then he can barely talk but he can still walk.

As they are walking out the girlfriend will profusely apologize to you, the parental type sipping on bottled water and indulging in the hedonistic sneaking of clumps of sticky cotton candy from her 5-year-old.

And you will look over at your 5-year-old and your husband and smile because you know you will all be a bit sunburned in the morning but the only hangovers will be from consuming too much cotton candy.

You will also thank the good Lord above that you are married to the kind of man who would never drink a daiquiri at a football game.

Edited to add: The hubby prefers beer.

(I should have added this as the punchline. Wink.)

This true story brought to you by the drunk guy sitting to the left of us at Sunday’s Titans/Falcons football game.

My best friend and I went on a moms’ retreat weekend to Chattanooga.

What? Didn’t you know Chattanooga is the new Vegas?

She and I both turned 38 this summer and I had a wild hair idea to actually go somewhere for the weekend and not just meet for a hurried celebratory lunch which ends way too soon. The best friend and I have known each other since 4th grade, back in 1979 when the Grease soundtrack on vinyl was the High School Musical craze, thus an hour does not do our conversational marathon skills justice.

We decided to cruise to Chattavegas in her minivan as it’s a relatively short drive, and we were able to indulge in a lot of shopping and talking and eating and drinking and then some more shopping of the discount variety. You know, basically the staples of life. The weather was gorgeous and the sales were plentiful. We indulged in beer and pizza before noon on Saturday al fresco and topped that off with some Ben and Jerry’s. It felt decadent to be sipping on a bottled beer next to parents wielding baby bottles. There was no calorie counting allowed. We may venture further next year and who knows what we’ll do for our 40th. There was talk of a spa retreat or a trip to NYC or the Bahamas. Moms gone wild!

Some quotes from the weekend:

I’m just looking forward to not wiping anyone’s butts.
My best friend has three boys (ranging from 3 to 11) and I have two girls. No further ’splainin needed.

It’s OK. We’ve got wine and chocolate!
Upon radioing the hubby’s shop and realizing that there were two wrecks less than three miles apart on I-24 as we headed out of town and traffic came to a complete standstill for at least a half hour. My best friend, being the prepared genius that she is, had packed M&Ms and Halloween Reese’s Pieces and party mix, as well as enough varieties of Coke to keep us awake for 72 solid hours. And then of course, there was the Fat Bastard Shiraz in the back seat, waiting for us when we got to our hotel. If necessary, we would have been prepared to uncork that baby.

It’s buy one get one free martinis!
We had no idea it was happy hour Saturday night when we ordered our martinis and were greeted with four from the bar.

There were no celebrity sightings in Chattavegas, but our server Friday night at PF Changs sounded amazingly like Keanu Reeves. The best friend and I did have a riveting conversation Sunday morning about Kenny Chesney’s sexual preference (she works with someone who knows Kenny fairly well and the verdict is that he is most definitely not gay, just thought you’d want to know.)

Being someone in much need of a technological break and not wanting any temptation to sneak down to the hotel business center to blog or check e-mail like some sort of Internet addicted mommy blogger who checks her Sitemeter stats daily, I left both my laptop and digital camera at home. I know, I know…crazy! We slept in late and didn’t order anything from a kids’ menu all weekend. We browsed in Barnes & Noble Saturday night and sipped on wine and read our new books when we got back to the hotel. Hey, we’re small town girls. It doesn’t take much to thrill us.

Overall it was a fun and much needed mama’s retreat. There was nary a chicken finger or juice box in sight and the only objects subject to swiping were our debit cards, no poopy bottoms allowed. If there was any niggling ounce of doubt that I shouldn’t have taken off for two nights, it was snuffed out the moment the hubby called me Friday night from our neighborhood pizza joint and I could hear the girls in the background, squealing with joy as they played air hockey with my dad.

Today I decided that I deserved a cherry limeade and some tater tots from Le Sonic and made a pit stop before picking up Miss C from school.

I pulled in behind a Lincoln Navigator driven by a mom. Her license plate holder said, “I’m Not Spoiled. My Husband Just Loves Me.”

Translated I believe that means this woman is a, well, you know. I must confess to stereotyping her.

And then I got home and realized the only car adornment on my Nissan Pathfinder is a black and white oval sticker that says WOOF. I’m sure the day I slap a soccer mom sticker on my hatch is not far off, as we are in season three of soccer for Miss C.

But I digress. Back to my beloved WOOF sticker.

Translated I believe that means, “I’m Not Spoiled. But My Dogs Sure As Hell Are.”

Dear Mother Who Signed Her Son Up for Free Swim Lessons, Even Though He Knew How to Swim:

It was clear that you thought it was adorable that your son was swimming like a porpoise on crack, but it was incredibly distracting, not to mention rude, to the instructors and the three kids who really were trying to learn to swim.

Dear Dad in the Family Locker Room Who Was Irate Because I Accidentally Cut Him Off at the Swimsuit Water Extractor Gadget:

Get over it! It was an accident! I apologized and you responded by saying nothing. Hmmmm. Either you did not understand me or you are just plain rude.

Dear Angsty Teenage Boy Wearing Street Clothes on the Elliptical Machine:

Dude, I know your skin has not seen the light of day in three years, but you’ll sweat a lot less if you put on some lightweight workout clothes instead of ankle length denim shorts and an XXXL shirt.

Thanks,

Blonde Mom