The Dreadliest Catch

Dread Update!

Let me start by saying that I just wasn’t cool enough to rep the dreads to their full potential.

It was a struggle. I knew it was going to be. I knew they were a lot of work. I knew they needed some serious love and attention if I wanted them to look tidy and tight and kempt - yes, I do believe dreads can look kempt. Alas, the vision of tight, ropy, waist-length dreads, adorned with shells and coloured twine skyrocketing my coolness level to unimaginable heights was not to be. I cut them off.

I had one dread that was two years old, and it was beautiful. It fell nicely, it was tight, it had a big ass bead on it. It was the example I knew could be achieved if I dedicated two solid years to allow the dreads to mature. Fuzzy, loopy, and I had a bunch of rogue hairs lose all over the place.  This would be my hair reality for dos anos unless I put in some serious maintenance or had serious patience. Or went blind. The issue was multiplied because I have just experienced postpartum hair loss. It’s a thing. I have thousands of fine downy hairs all over my head. New growth from the molting event that recently occurred. And believe it or not, all those new hairs don’t know they are supposed to tuck themselves nicely into dreads. As a result they just stick out everywhere. Its really attractive. Trust me.

I had honestly considered cutting them off around Christmas, but I had some encouraging people who helped me rally for a few more months.  I thought I could hold on until two years. I really did. I thought I had set my resolve. But one Sunday night, after a shower, I was lamenting the ability to scratch my whole scalp at once and as I crawled into bed with my family for some down time before we went to sleep, I voiced the unimaginable:

“Should I cut these dreads off?”

“Yes!” - my husband hates the dreads.

He patiently let me run where my hippy heart would, but he did not like the mass of snarls and scratchy ropy tresses that now graced my noggin. I mentioned when I started this journey, that I am a short haired girl. I haven’t looked like myself in almost 4 years. Neither of us thought so.

Not Me. (2016)

Me. (2006)

The hubs didn’t just immediately jump on the “hack off the dreads” band wagon. He actually questioned me first. Was this a knee jerk moment? Was this something I was going to regret doing? Was this the first moment I had thought about cutting the dreads? I appreciate that he gave me space to make my own decision here instead of pushing his anti-dread agenda.

After waffling back and forth for a few minutes, I just went and did it. One at a time I used a pair of dull scissors and literally hacked each one off. I had all kinds of longish strands that were sticking out all over. Nothing was even. It looked like a huge mess. And then I had another shower to wash all the extra shorties and loose hair out. And it felt amazing. A.MAZE.ING!

Take a minute to drink in this masterpiece.
Like a train-wreck, it is hard to look away from.

I’ve got to be honest - the dreads were just not jiving with me and my lifestyle. In fact, because I am a short haired girl at heart, I didn’t like the way the dreads looked when they were hanging down around my face. As a result I kept them up most of the time and the extra weight sticking out from the back of my head made my neck hurt. And it bumped into the headrest in my car. I had to pile them up on top of my head or take my messy dread bun out to drive. When a hairstyle starts causing one pain, it is probably time to give up on it.

Also, they weren’t working with being a mom for me. They would get in the kids’ faces, and they weren’t nice to cuddle with. Not to mention how I would sprawl them across my pillow at night. It doesn’t really create space for kids or spouses to come close and cuddle. (Not that I am opposed to the space - I am not a cuddler - but they all are, and they all need some of that physical attention from me.)

So Monday I called a hair salon to see if I could get the hack job cleaned up, and I was fit in that afternoon. And finally after years growing my hair and about 10 months of dreads, I am a short haired girl again.

I LOVE IT. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t look right - maybe I was too chubby now for short hair. But for real. I feel like a babe. I am so happy to be back to me. And my husband has been enjoying rubbing my short hair head and snuggling up closer than he has been able to since my thick hair started getting some serious length.

I talked with some of the girls I have met since moving - they only know me with long hair/dreads so this is a big change for them. Everyone has been super enthusiastic about the hair, but I was talking to a girl about how we both tend to start projects or skills or whatever and not finish them. She jokingly said that she had failed herself so many times that she didn't want to start something new. I am not looking at this as a failure. I tried something that many people won't try. It was a long term commitment - growing my hair and putting in the dreads and letting them mature as much as I could - and I did it. No one helped me. I gave it my best shot. And in the end I found out it wasn't me. That I already knew who me was in the hair department and I am back there. Do I regret the time I spent doing this thing? Not at all. It was a rad journey that I can talk about and gave me some insights I would have never gotten if I hadn't walked this road. Try things out. Even if in the end you revert back to what you knew before - it isn't actually regression. It is an experience and a stretching. And my hair might be back to "normal" now - but I KNOW more about who I am because I walked out a different image for a while.

Thus ends a narcissistic chapter of my life in hair.

Peace.

So Many Good Things...

Monday was a good day. Even a great day! I was so pleased with Monday. I made pancakes for just me and the babe. Which means I had a bag of leftover pancakes in the fridge ready to slam into the toaster at a moment's notice. SCORE! This breakfast win was accompanied by a calm, sunny, and warm day. If you follow my Instagram, you will know what a feat that is for this town. It was so nice that I took my one year old out, set her on the lawn and started doing some raking. Yard work is not something everyone likes to do, but for me - it helps me to really feel connected to the place I am. I love being able to see the progress of a garden, even just a small one, and the sense of peace and life a few green things can bring to a space always leaves me in awe and breathing easier.

After having a baby last spring, my front door garden had gotten away from me at our old house. I was so relieved and excited to get to work in it once my energy was up and I was willing to put baby down for naps!

This is the after photo - once I cleaned out the dead material and weeds and was working on adding a little brick path. Also, the lilacs help make the scene a little more appealing. By the end of the summer, I had quite a front door garden complete with about a half a dozen tomatoes to harvest and two home grown cucumbers!

I am the most amateur of amateur gardeners, but I will hopefully put some pictures up of my yard this year as we begin to make the space our own - and fruitful! I loved our last front door garden so much, but the new yard is so BIG! and full of potential with hills and mulchy places and a big sprawling willow tree - I think it will become a very beautiful and interesting place to be as we work on it in the months and years to come.

The gardening, however, doesn't last long when you have a newly walking one year old who decides she is comfortable enough to go exploring the very hilly yard complete with cement steps. So my pile of twigs and dead grass is presently still sitting on the lawn, killing the new grass trying to grow under it. You must understand; we HAD to go exploring, throw dirt, find (and bite) rocks, pick grass. These things are essential.

After spending too long outside and having a hangry baby, we made a quick lunch and retreated to "the big bed" for our afternoon nap.

Naps, my friends, are essential. They are what gets a one year old and her pregnant mama through the day. Every day. It doesn't even matter how well we slept the night before. Nap. My husband said it best: "sleep when you can." Because you never know what may be in store for you the coming night (this is a literary technique known as foreshadowing.) I like to think of it as "being fully present" or "living in the moment" or even "carpe diem!" Because let's be honest, if you don't just acknowledge how extremely tired pregnant/nursing/running after a toddler tired really is - you will die. Fact. Don't try to do anything fancy like the lunch dishes. Just go have a nap.

And, oh luxury of luxuries, as I was laying in my bed with my little bah-bah snoozing away, I had the time for some devotions. I know that this is a place where I fall so very short in, and that my time in the Word should be the most important thing I do every single day but, my friends, I fail at this. It is not a secret. I admit it. However, I took some time on Monday to settle into the daily readings, read some reflections and listen to the podcast from pray-as-you-go.org. Which I LOVE. Not only are the reflections top drawer, they are all done in Scottish accents. You guys. Jesus and Scottish accents. For real.

Henry Ossawa Tanner "Study for Nicodemus Visiting Jesus" 1899

 ....... Anyway, the gospel reading was from John 3:1-8 where Nicodemus meets with Jesus at night and Jesus speaks of being born of the Spirit. And the Spirit met with me there in my snugly bed with my baby snoozing. It was so great, because I felt more in tune with the Spirit in the past couple of days than I have in a while. I have been trying to feel where the Spirit is blowing me through the day - and even when I am not sure how things are going to turn out, listening and responding sure does make life more interesting.

We rounded out the afternoon with a quick visit to Daddy who was coaching and a shopping trip for groceries and the baby essentials: diapers, a new ball and tank tops for mama. They were racer back tanks, you guys. My favourite. I've basically had the same wardrobe since high school. I'm not sorry.


When we were leaving Wal-Mart (I'm not proud I shop there, but I live in a really small town with few options - I know, I know. It makes me a little sick too and I will try to solve this life issue with prayer and fasting.) there were a couple of hippies with a white dog and a sign telling all who drove by of their broke, travelling, hungry woes. So when I got to the grocery store, I bought a few extra things I thought travelling hippies might find useful (secretly I wish I were a travelling hippy) with the intention of heading back to the parking lot at Wal-ly World with gifts to send them on their way slightly better nourished.

Of course they were AWOL when I went back for them. You know what they say, "There's no rest for travelling hippies." So - I let the Spirit blow me to our "downtown", which is only about 4 blocks from my house, where I found a couple of local guys who hang out down there. I'm not sure if they are technically homeless, I haven't lived here long enough to know everyone's story, but they fit the bill of a couple of guys who could use a little extra nourishment. So I handed over the groceries. Actually, in all fairness, as I was buying things for the hippies, I was thinking to myself about what real social justice is. Am I just blessing the blessed by handing over groceries to a couple who is travelling the country? I mean, I don't doubt they were travelling on a nothing budget, (I have this thing about trusting everyone's word at face value - call it a flaw, I am glad I live this way) I know people who have. And I don't know their story, why they are on the road like they are, but why am I so willing to help people who are living one of my dreams, but so much less willing to drop $30 for groceries for the dudes down my block who REALLY need to see some love in the world? Anyway - Social Justice. Something I need to write a whole post about sometime.

BUT the great day doesn't end there! I ate a bowl of no name Frosted Flakes for supper when I got home, ditched my fam-jam and went to a MOVIE!!!! All by myself. But it was great. Like I said, I am 4 blocks from down town (half the town is) so it took me about 5 minutes to walk to the theater that was showing a Canadian film, Big News from Grand Rock, hosted by our Allied Arts Council.

The director, Daniel Perlmutter, was there all the way from Toronto, to open the film for us and answered questions at the end. I walked home after in my flippy flops enjoying the beautiful spring evening; full of popcorn and fountain Coke. :)  All was truly right with the world.

The blurry evidence of the beautiful weather.

The bustling Monday evening night life in my small town.

This beautiful spring day, filled with things I love and enjoy, came to an end with a basically sleepless night, a sick and disgruntled toddler, and a 5 am chat with Ralph on the big white telephone where I got to relive my large bag of popcorn and my once delicious fountain pop. All good things must come to an end I guess....

....and just wondering, does it take anyone else DAYS to write, edit and post a blog post that is just about one day of activities? Sheesh!

Peace!