A temporary Name

{this moment}

2011-03-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Something wicked this way comes

2011-03-14T20:15:00.000-07:00

I have a witch's cackle. Sometimes it is quite evil. Other times (a.k.a. most of the time) it is quite frightening. It's very sudden, and very inherited. When all the hens in my family get together (my awesome sisters, mother, and aunts) the men all need ear plugs. Or a good appreciation for seriously funny jokes.

I was watching something on Netflix with my men today. Babalu (Baby boy's new nickname from Momma) was chillin' in my lap, watching the patio door lights, listening to the show along with us. He had just woken up and was still kind of groggily.
Something funny happened on the show (the translation from Russian was "party chicken"!) and I laughed. Thought nothing of it until Babalu jumped and let out the saddest, most heart-breakingly-loud cry ever.
Not the first time my laugh has surprised unsuspecting company.

Babalu, someday, ask your father. Maybe he'll tell you of times he had to sit where he could see my face to know that I was going to laugh. Or about times my laugh woke him up from a deep, deep slumber.

But what he definitely will tell you is that you're stuck with the witch's cackle forever, but know that it's better to have a Momma with a loud laugh, than one who never laughs at all.

I got a second or two.

2011-03-13T15:30:00.000-07:00

Still thinking on what to rename the blog. No ideas.

Explanation on why it's pink though: My world is so filled with, nay, drenched with testosterone that I need something pretty for me.

... Maybe that goes without saying. But settling for a blog to be my pretty thing?

It's worth it when the testosterone comes from these two.

Two seconds over.

Yikes

2011-03-11T12:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted on here in like 3 years.

Now that there's perpetual entertainment and possible content
(in the form of a 10 week old juggernaut!) Maybe that will change.

I can't guarantee consistency, and honestly I don't think all Mommies should have a "get-out-of-promising-your-time free" card. Unlimited uses...

Anyway. The changes begin. Such as what to name the blog now that I AM the Momma!

Suggestions. Startiiiiiinnnnnnggggg.... NOW.

True Little Miss Attitude

2009-11-07T19:14:00.000-08:00

My teacher's adorable 2 year-old grandaughter came in today to just hang out with her Dad and Grandma, as she does often on Saturdays.
She's incredibly shy, but everyone thinks she's so cute and will talk directly to her. She'll turn away or talk to Grandma instead. (Its so funny.) The only time I ever see her kind of open up is when she's sitting in a chair getting her hair braided. She gets to hold the comb, all eyes are on her, she loves it.
Frances had been helping her out all afternoon, just talking with her and trying to get her to open up. Towards the end of her visit, Grandma decided Frances needed a tip, and gave the money to little Jocelyn (grandaughter) to give to Frances. Grandma waited on the other side of the room, in eyesight, and sent her to Frances.
What does any girl do with a dollar of her own? Go shopping. Jocelyn starts off to the vending machine for chocolate. She gets cut off by Frances (who doesn't know the money is supposed to be hers).
Frances: "Where are you going? Do you want to buy something? I'll help you." (Reaches out hand)
Jocelyn: ".... No THANK you..." Immediately runs to Dad.
Her face said what she was thinking. Don't let her take my money!

Hobbits had it right.

2009-11-02T22:02:00.000-08:00

Breakfast... second breakfasts... elevensies... Can we come up with cool names for our naps too!?

Saturday, after a full and peaceful night's sleep, I made breakfast, took a nap, did some stuff, took a nap, got trick-or-treater candy (that eventually ended up as our candy stash, a.k.a. bribes!) and went to bed relatively early for me on a Saturday.

2 real night's sleep and 2 naps?! That, my dear children, is called LUCKY.

Transformers...

2009-11-01T09:12:00.001-08:00

"...Meets the eeeeeyyyeeeeeee."

"MORE than meets the eye, Nick."

"That's not how it goes! 'Transformer! Meets the eeeyyyeeeeeeeeeeee.'"

Where oh where did my musical genius go? :(

Happy Halloween

2009-11-01T09:00:00.001-08:00

Halloween is such a depressing holiday.
For diabetics.

We had a bag of 105 pieces of chocolate (HEAVEN!!!) and we actually had to hide it from ourselves. The boys weren't even home!

It was that bad.

I think my blood sugar is still high.
Back to bed I go. Dad, you've got breakfast.

I met a woman named Pandy today.

2009-10-02T18:24:00.001-07:00

Yup, short for Pandora. Pretty freakin sweet.

Whale Wars

2009-08-21T20:01:00.001-07:00

I know, long time. Things will change.

One thing I wish would change: whaling. Won't get all protesty on ya, I'm sure you know my platform.

We were watching Whale Wars this evening. The show was nearly over, but we were enjoying it. Chris, Christopher and I were chowing down and delighting ourselves with the theatrics of enviromentalists. Nickolas was playing Tiny Robots. (Its the game where you have to shoot the tiny robots at your feet...? You've never played!?)

All of a sudden, Nick turns around and looks at the screen. "Hey!" he squeals. "The world is a bad guy... duh-duh-duh..." I look at him incrediously.
"What was that, Nick?" I nearly drop my pizza in pleasant surprise.
"That's the song, right?" He wanders away and continues his vendetta against the miniature cyborgs.

Holy musical genius Batman. Not the first time it's happened.

Oh Cathie, what have you done?

2009-05-10T20:26:00.000-07:00

I was going through my purse in the car today.

I found Chris's diabetic tester.

I asked if he knew I had it. But no, not in my normal voice.

I accidentally asked as if I were Oliver Twist.

"Did you knew I hahd your testah?"

Bahahaha.

News.

2009-04-21T14:04:00.001-07:00

I'm changing the title of my blog.

I mean, every once and a while I'll have a story from school, but I don't really enjoy talking about it. It mostly has to do with angry stuff, which I need to avoid now.

(Stress meltdown is the equivalent of a mental heart attack. All my plans for health have changed.)

So, I will, instead, focus on what makes me happy/ is my goal for my new "20th year". Basically, I want to achieve a lot before I turn 21.
I want to go green and organic.

Yeah.
It's a process.

I'm having troubles deciding between two names though.

The Pretty Hippie

Or

Clean Green Hippie Machine

Or I could go with one of my stepkids suggestions. I'm sure it'd have something to do with "Hippie Hippo".
... Because the words sound alike, not because I'm big. Jeeze.

So, yeah. I'm thinking.

Organically Frustrated

2009-04-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

Two things:
1) I got so upset when Chris and Nick opened their Easter baskets from Grandma Karen. PLASTIC eggs?! FULL OF CANDY? Another freakin' Batman toy!? When am I EVER going to use a plush basket in the shape of a car that makes noise!?
Come on Grandma! We need books, not sugar! Your son is flippin' diabetic, and you're now making your grandchildren diabetic!!

2) We watch Deadliest Warrior at our house. It's applied History around these parts.
But apparently, girls can watch, and enjoy these shows, but heaven knows we females can't have opinions, or even facts to bring to the table when we debate about it.

I don't think I can stand being silent any longer.

Ettiquette Schmettiquette!

2009-04-07T21:39:00.000-07:00

I'm super pissed off about something that I should be super elated for.

Part of me wishes the person involved dies. A horrible, gruesome death.

And this is family.

Officially

2009-04-07T09:10:00.000-07:00

I'm officially sick of being sick. Today's my 5 day off from school because I just can't hack it.

I cried today. At school. I hate it.
Every moment I think I'm doing better, I fall in a hole and it gets worse. I just want to curl up, sleep and cry for an hour, and wake up with everything all better.
It's creepier because, I know HOW I'm sick. This is all familiar. But it's in new strange ways that confuse the hell out of me, and nearly blind-sights me.

I just want continuity and progression. I want to move forward. I want to feel as if I'm accomplishing something.
But no. That has to wait for years.
I'm in a foreign country without a passport and the embassy isn't so worried quite yet. There are more important things for them to do. What am I supposed to do until then?

Curl up, sleep and cry, and hope that when I wake up, everything's all better.

10 Things I Love Today.

2009-04-06T23:46:00.000-07:00

1. How I managed to push 3 wrong buttons before "New Post". Even though it's a huge and noticable button.

2. When I walk through book stores, and become compelled to write only a million short stories.

3. When shabby, housewifey women walk in to said bookstore, and head for the romance sections; i.e. everyone has their vice.

4. When Chris sings along with the Disco Sirius station.

5. When I laugh so hard, my voice goes squeaky and it gets hard to breath/control my saliva (sounds gross, but it means somethings really funny).

6. When I pattern hunt, see something that I love, and realize I already have that pattern.

7. Marilyn's squealy voice in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Sooo enjoyable.

8. When Chris and I accidentally develop an inside joke.

9. Chris told someone else that I'm his best friend.

10. That I get to think up more of these fun lists everyday because I have my man. <3

(*Edit. 11. 14 days until my birthday! Two weeks!)

Well, twist my arm, baby boy.

2009-04-04T12:17:00.001-07:00

I stayed home sick today.
I woke up about 11:30. The boys always wake up at like... the dawn of time. Every morning they're here.
So Chris woke up with them.

When I finally got out of bed, I went to say hello to all the men in my living room. The 2 oldest were naturally playing video games, Dad and his Call of Duty 4, Christopher and his Banjo Kazooie. Nickolas was riding around on a monster truck like it was a horse.
"Chelsea!" Nick squealed.
"Yes, Sir Nickolas?" I was oh so groggy.
"Eat breakfast, then give Daddy a big hug and kiss!"

.... Well, if I must, I must. :)

Nature and/or Nurture

2009-04-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

Today the boys and Big Chris came over to my parents for pizza night. (My favorite tradition!) On the way over, Nicky, the three year old, said something along the lines of "Mommy being dead" and "spending more time with Daddy". Big Chris was sure to say that he should love his mom, and shouldn't say mean things about her.

But on my inside, I was doing a little triumph dance. We don't need to persuade the boys to want to be with us, they'll make that decision on their own. They love their dad, and they're most like him (except when they think they can lie to get out of things). They'll just automatically be drawn to us because its in their nature.

BTW, a roommate barged into the living room while the kids were TRYING to fall asleep. His excuse? "I thought they were awake." I asked him what time it was. "Ten thir-- oh." He tip-toed outta here.
That's right people. Past my bedtime, too!

17, almost 16 days until my birthday!!

Sweet Genius

2009-03-29T23:30:00.000-07:00

I guess it's been long enough to start posting again.
Like a little daydreaming vacation. But who honestly needs a vacation from day dreaming?
Us idealistic people, that's 'ooh.

I wonder what it's like to have a brain defect that keeps you from doing things. Where your brain works fine, but when converting that thought to a word or action, something goes wrong.

I must have some mutated form of that because when I close my eyes, I see this well put-togethered household, everything clean and organized and esthetically pleasing. But when I open my eyes and start moving my hands and thinking of the process to adjust the reality to the imaginary, something always goes awry.

I have two small tables in my dining room, neither strong enough, shaped-well enough, or large enough for any of us to eat at.

I have a big vinyl sectional with TWO reclining sections, and a fold-out bed. But it's bad beige, like dirty grey carpet coloured, and almost half the cushions are torn in half. Not to mention it smells like urine from at least two species.

I share a king sized bed with a big BIG man. (Yay!) But our blanket is only really big enough for just him, or two of me (maybe more like one and a half). But the two of us together ends up being a battle; seeing as he can't sleep on my side, and I not on his. I have a memory foam pillow top (*drool*) and it hurts his back, thus our bed being split straight down the midddle. He gets sweaty but likes being covered, I get cold and cannot sleep with anything over my head; I suffocate.

I know the solutions to these (the solutions that are simply one sentence answers) but the grey area between the problem and the answer is so freakin hard to decifer.

I guess to put it simply, I don't do well with this poor stuff. I'm not saying I'm high maintenence, because I most certainly am not. But when I start thinking that if I skip meals, I'll be less of a burden on my boyfriend financially, it gets scary.

I've thought about taking a large LOA (leave of absence) from school and just work, but I've yet to even get a job. It scares me so bad that it gives me nightmares. I used to dream of monsters or death or even embarrassing moments, but now... now it's the shame of saying "We just couldn't afford life. We couldn't even cover our basic needs. We failed."
I don't give up. I'll kick and scream and cry all the way to the finish line, but damnit I ain't quittin'.
I just hope I don't kick and scream and cry us into the poorhouse or into debt.

When will we finally be humbled enough to find the answer that's been handed to us?
When will we finally realize the help that is available?
How can we be strong and admit defeat before the game is won?

I just wish we had an answer that we can take. Our situation is so awkward, so different that finding the sensible soloution will be tricky.

Maybe one day we will just fall back to our jokes; kidnap the kids, change our names and run away to Canada.

I like the snow.

Mu-ah-ah-ah

2009-02-08T19:11:00.001-08:00

I win.

Nicky, the three year old, loves shopping online with me.
For furniture. For our home... when we buy one.

*Insert evil laugh here*

So angry I'm about to POP!

2009-02-01T14:12:00.000-08:00

Chris's ex is moving this weekend. To be closer to her family. The got the boys new beds. Either she or her "fiance" drives an Infiniti. They get to make any and all decisions when it comes to the boys, and I doubt either of them even have a clue what they're doing.

Meanwhile we're $200 behind on rent, living in Mesa when our families live in Gilbert. I drive a car whom I need to beg to stay running somedays. We live with people who's last names we don't even know, and we're supposed to sleep soundly at night.

HOW IS THIS FAIR!!???

Little boys can be super dirty or super cute.

2009-01-22T18:59:00.000-08:00

Example of super cute: Apparently when Christopher was younger, he called pants "a hat for your butt."

Cuuuuuuuute.

I Love the Loud and Occassionaly Obscene

2009-01-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

( I hope I spelled that right.)

Why do you ask? Well I'll tell you.

This past Sunday, I did a little bleaching myself, and tried to get a lot of my pink out. I must say, I did pretty darn well for only having a couple mirrors in my bathroom.

When I walked in and sat down in theory today, one student started commentating on my pink hair, as if it was a horse race.
She turned to a notoriously opinionated and loud friend (I could have sworn she was gonna make bets with her about my hair) to ask her opinion. I'm not sure whether or not this friend had seen or heard me cry last week, but her response was superb: "I'm not gonna sit here and criticize her hair! All I'm gonna say is 'Good morning, Chelsea!'"

The first student (and SEVERAL others with potential) shut right up.

Thank you, thank you very much.

EVERYONE and His Horse

2009-01-11T22:13:00.000-08:00

... had to tell me their opinions on Friday at school.

Allow me to explain. I was red. SUPER RED. This all follwers know.

Well, being the barely-guided beauty student, when the proposition of being blonde came up, I went with it.

BOY HOWDY, what an experience we had with this adventure.

Surely, the only person who knows your hair best is!? ... No, NOT your hairdresser! It's yourself. Your hairdresser only sees it once every (hopefully) 6 weeks, and at that, they're changing it more than they're studying it. It's you who has to repair it on bad hair days, who has to watch the colour you spent an entire paycheck on drizzle right down the drain.

Knowing this wisdom (which I hope everyone will learn and live by), my day was FRUSTRATING. I wanted to out and out bleach the freaking colour out of my head. I knew it was the only way possible, and I wanted it BLONDE. Not a light brown. That's my natural colour, and if I wanted it my natural colour, I'd stop colouring it!

Every single person who heard me say "bleach" HAD to interrupt.
"Are you sure? A colour remover would be a lot less harmful to your hair.."
"Morgan had that same hair colour, and it's STILL pulling red."
"Noooo! Don't bleach it! Your hair will be DAMAGED."

For anyone who knows the Gifford kids, we are notorious for being oily. Oily scalp, oily skin, oily schemes. (Okay, kinda kidding on that last one. Kinda.) I wanted my hair dry and damaged from the bleach. I was blonde in high school and loved it. My hair obeyed! It was ... normal!
Allow me to demonstrate:

... I would demonstrate, but it seems my computer has misplaced my pictures. I'll look harder when I'm not so sleepy. Or angry.

Anywho. I mixed the lightener myself, and told my friends to "just put it on already".
Ohhhh... Look who was right, all along. My hair was neither damaged, nor falling off.

I will admit it: I cried at one point. It was overwhelming to hear absolutely everyone's opinion and advice, when it wasn't even helpful. At one point, my teacher took over and said at any available interval, "Everyone needs to mind their own damn business. Chelsea's hair is in such good condition, it could take another three or four heavy bleaches. She's fine; leave her alone."

Albeit that the opinions didn't stop, the amount of attention I gave them surely decreased.
Everyone told me I'd have pink hair until it grew out.

I'm proud to announce, my hair is getting considerably less and less pink as the days pass.

So HA.

Ooohhhh Sooooo Embarrased

2008-12-21T17:52:00.000-08:00

Well, as we all know, I'm a vibrant redhead. But as most don't know, I sing AND dance in the car along with my iPod. I was waiting at a red light, and was singing along with a really upbeat and fun song. I was having a blast; I had just got off work, and was excited to go home.

Amongst my little disco, I saw a face in a car a couple rows over. I stop dancing and look at the man, who had apparently been watching me the whole time! I was so embarrased, I put my head on my steering wheel and start cracking up. I looked back up to see if he was still watching, and he was laughing too! My face was BRIGHT red...

When the light turned green, and I turned left, I reminded myself, "Um, I kind of have bright red hair now... I should be more careful. I guess I'm gonna be getting a lot of attention now!"

Whether it be good attention or bad attention, it's still gonna be wicked fun.

Ch-ch-ch-Changes...

2008-12-21T07:59:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I accompanied a friend to the local beauty supply store, and helped her pick out a new colour for her. I picked something I thought strange for her (she's conservative) : Mahogony violet.
Turns out: I'm AWESOME at colour. Here's my proof.

Later that day, I decided I wanted to colour my hair. Mine was boring, common, and not very flattering anymore.

I went red. RED red.

We used Framesi's 2:1 high lift colour in Hypnotic Red. The people who applied the colour, all along, "Are you sure, Chelsea? This looks kinda pink..." "But 40 volume developer!? Your head's gonna BURN..." The whole time, all I heard was skepticism.

I trudged on through. I was adament that this was my colour. They threw me under the dryer, and kept checking my hair, more so out of fear than obligation.

When my head was appropriately warm and toasty, Bridgette washed out my hair. First words to come out of her mouth: WOW.
Jennali used Color Off on my hairline and said, "Wow."
Dani started blowdrying my hair and said, "Wow!"

My teacher, Mr. Mario, was the first person to actually say a coherent sentence that made any sense to me, "This colour matches your skin tone EXACTLY, you look great!" (No, he doesn't talk like a gay man, he talks like a Mexican. ... Mostly because he is one.)
Daniel, my favorite floor student, came up and played with my hair. "Oh my god, Chelsea, look! Your eyes just... POP!"
It was that moment, that first floor student's approach, launched a .... well, a touching party is the best name I can come up with. Nearly every person who came up to look at my new colour played with it.
"It feels so healthy!"
"This is with FOURTY volume developer!?"
"That's so not school colour..."
"Ah! Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!"
"Not many people can pull off this colour... and it looks like you were supposed to have it."

Yeah, I'm totally awesome at colour.
Trust me; I'm the girl with flaming red hair.

Suprises around every corner

2008-12-19T18:33:00.000-08:00

About a week ago, I recently tested out of the first "grade" of beauty school and "graduated" into what we call "Phase 2" (it sounds like an evil plan, and in most ways it is). Rather than being mostly classroom based, my class now is usually just our teacher shouting out instructions on something we learned the theory of a few weeks ago.

Allow me to give some background on my teacher: Mario. Mario is one of our admissions counselor's selling points. This man is, to the teachers at the school, gifted. He truly is rather talented. Watching him work on someone is fascinating, he does it all so well. The way he teaches explains it all so well, I rarely ever have a question.
Here's the kicker: he's a thirty-year old who has the heart and mind of a a sixteen-year old boy. He flirts with every female student, knows everything I thought you could only have an x chromosome to understand.

Today in class, our first assignment was suprisingly to write a page and a half paper on why we want to be stylists. I was the second to last to read my report, and was glad I was close to last. Nearly every other person had mentioned how they were expecting a large amount of money, or reputation to go with it.
In mine, I mentioned the history of my sister attending cosmo school while I was young, and how it was so cool to get to go in and be her voluntary model (actually, I don't ever remember anyone asking....). She's the only one who's touched my hair with shears for as long as I could remember (besides one, and there's a reason why I don't go back) and throughout all those haircuts, I was mesmorized by her ability to completely transform people.

As we were wrapping up, Dani, the nostalgic one, asked Mario why he became a hair stylist. We were expecting the one word answer (that made the most sense): Girls.
Much to our surprise, Mario related to us an inspiring and beautiful story about his past, and his reasoning for his schooling.
He told us about how he could treat women nicely or badly, and how in high school he picked he latter. He told us about how he became a jerk when he was a sherriff. He told us about how he went to school, and after making a ton of money in salons, let it go to his head. I could almost hear the lump in his throat as he described his turning point, redeeming himself by giving away his expensive and worldly possessions to work as a humble school instructor at merely $15 an hour.
The clincher was my favorite part, "This is the only profession you can physically touch someone, their hair, their hands, their shoulders, and have the chance to touch them spiritually. We aren't hair dressers, we're day-makers. Think of the times you had a bad colour job, or a lousy day and got your hair done: it ALWAYS makes you feel better."

I won't lie, I got kinda teary-eyed. But then again, I'm a total girl so that's not news.

It's days like these that remind me just how awesome the people I'm learning beside truly are.

Calm down, Calm down.

2008-12-19T14:58:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure if the title of this particular post is directed at myself or my friends/sisters. I figured starting a blog would help spread the stories better. I write better then I speak, so if what I have to say is written down somwhere for all to see, everyone will get the whole impact of my stories best.

I would start out with a fabulous story of Beauty School Today (that kinda sounds like a bit on an old 60's news show) but I have work. I'll probably have more fun stories after that, so I'll just give you a full dose of hilarity (or inspiration) late tonight.

Don't touch that dial!