Category Archives: change

Renaming, Maybe?

I started this blog years ago and called it Confessions from the Crib because that is how my ideas came. I had just given birth to Ally, and as I was putting her to bed at night I would curl up in the crib with her until she fell asleep. It was too early for me to sleep, so I would lay there, wide awake, thinking.

I was new to the whole mother business, so I was constantly thinking of ways of being better at it. The blog at the time was dedicated to parenting, advice as it came, new ways of doing things, trials and tribulations of parenthood, and well, you get the gist.

It remained that way for several years. A year and a half later, after my son was born, I did the same thing. And as I lay in the crib with him I once again used it as my thinking place, quickly transcribing my ideas into the blog before going to bed. Having two children gave impetus to more advice, discovering ways of handling both of them, and getting better at it each day.

But then the blog became about more than just parenting, especially in the last year. In fact, I can’t remember the last real parenting advice post. I guess I don’t have any more advice to give. I go from day to day, see what works, implement it, and before I perfect anything things change.

Somewhere along the way I realized I am more than just a mother, and I started exploring other interests and facets of my life. I began blogging about the things I read, and everyday experiences that often include my kids, but aren’t anywhere in the realm of advice, or cute “how-to” posts.

I have been playing around with the idea of changing the blog’s name for several months. But I am not sure what to call it. There isn’t one subject I blog about. There is no overarching theme. In fact, for the past year the majority of my blogs have been everyday occurrences and I am using the platform as more of a personal diary than anything else. Except, it is not very personal, but rather quite public.

I have come up with several titles. I am still deliberating. Here are some of my favorites:

The Butterfly Loft (Because I will always be The Butterfly, even though people stopped calling me that years ago, and there is a salon in Encino with this name that sounds very nice).

A Blog With A View (inspired by Tina Dico’s Room With A View).

The Butterfly Diaries (quite self explanatory I think – and even though an online journal is already named this, they focus on subjects I only rarely touch, and never in much depth).

Slightly Strange (I saw a pin on Pinterest “awkward is my specialty”… no one does awkward like me).

Breathing Butterfly (I like breathing).

I am not terribly fond of the other names I concocted, so for the time being I will simply ruminate on these.

Change Can Be Good

Last summer I got my hair permed. It didn’t go as planned (total understatement), and I am still working on undoing the damage. By this I mean I am straightening my hair on a regular basis to mask the perm. Brilliance on my part.

I typically undergo drastic changes as a means of cleansing and renewal. That is how I ended up with red hair several years back. This summer I was once again tempted to do something different. Even though the red hair actually turned out quite nicely and I have never regretted it, I thought about the perm and decided that before I undergo some monstrous metamorphosis I should be more careful. Granted I have never (and will never) do anything permanent to myself, some of my choices have had long lasting unwanted effects.

After some deliberation I came up with the most innocuous solution. So far I am loving it. If I continue feeling this way, then I can perhaps prolong it, and it will be my tiny joy. If I decide it is more of a hassle than it is worth,it is the epitome of reversible and no harm has been done. I am quite pleased.

Change Can Be Good

I wanted a change. Every once in a while I buy a new shade of nail polish, or revamp the way I do my make up. But this time I wanted something bigger. Maybe not as drastic as about six years ago when, after having been a blond my whole life, I suddenly died my hair bright red, but somewhere in that neighborhood. I didn’t want to go back to blonde. I didn’t want any other color. And there is not a whole lot else I could do. For a few months I played around with the idea of cutting bangs, but really the upkeep on those would be far too difficult and I would probably end up with my hair looking unkempt. And I can’t have that. At one point I cut my hair really short. It was cute. But I was a lot younger. Meaning everything was cute back then. And by everything was cute back then, I mean I thought everything was cute back then. I would offer some pictures for debate, but I don’t think I have any. So, in making a short story long, on a whim I decided to get a perm. And I really do mean on a whim. I was sitting in my Theory class and this was my thought process:
So this one man said this about that… note note note
This other man countered it with this other stuff… note note note
This third man combined the other two theories, added an extra one for good measure and said this… note note note
I should get a perm
This fourth man is from an entirely different school of thought and he said this other stuff… note note note
Oh look it’s break time… I am going to call the salon and make an appointment. And I did. And then I got a perm.
I have never gotten a perm before, so I wasn’t sure what it entailed. I knew there were curlers involved, and some type of solution. Apparently I have a lot of hair, so they had to use two solutions. What I hadn’t anticipated was that the whole thing would take over three hours. I got to the salon a little after five, and they said the tips of my hair were damaged and I needed a trim. I acquiesced, and the man got his shears out. He performed something that looked like the trimming of a bonsai tree with red strands flying every which way, and five minutes later my hair was “fixed.”
Then the fun started. He got out what looked to be about a hundred of the smallest curlers I have ever seen. I mean these things looked like they came out of a Barbie salon play boutique. He then proceeded to spray stuff all over my hair which he said was water, except it burned every time it touched my skin. And from my experience with showers I am pretty sure water doesn’t do that. Then he wrapped my hair in little pieces of paper at the tips and began using all the itsy bitsy curlers. I swear he wrapped each one of my hairs individually onto a different curler, or at least that it what it looked like. And it took him almost two hours to do this so I have reason to believe I was correct in my assessment. Then he poured two bottles of solution all over my head, put a giant bag over my hair and put me in this large helmet heat process machine thing. Apparently the heat was supposed to activate the solution in my hair and produce the desired curls. Translation: more burning.
I was a total trooper, and sat through this process for forty five minutes. After which his assistant took me over to the sink and began yanking the many curlers out. It took her almost as long as it took him to put them in, and did I mention all the yanking involved? If not, let me tell you, there was a lot of yanking. Translation: burning pain. Several hours passed, the salon had already closed, and they were attempting to get the solutions out of my hair, with three people washing and scrubbing at me like the place was about to burn down. They didn’t speak English so I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I have to admit, all the screaming and shouting was rather alarming. The dramatic arm gestures didn’t help alleviate my panic.
I asked if everything was okay, they all told me not to worry about it. When people say that is usually when I start to worry. A few minutes later they took me away from the sink, plopped me in front of the mirror and started massaging my hair. It was still wet, but they said they could not blow dry since more heat would damage my hair. As is I was in a hurry to get home, so I was perfectly happy leaving with wet hair, especially since it was still unbearably hot outside. As I was paying, the main lady said “don’t brush your hair this week, it might fall out.” Oh…