The spring of my senior year of high school was a crazy time. I was counting down the days to graduation and moving out to my own apartment. I was looking forward to becoming an adult, a college student, and having a job. (Maybe not in that order, but you know, whatever.)

I was also excited about getting away from my parents. We were at that stage where they weren’t sure if they could still tell me what to do and I wasn’t sure I would do what they told me to do. It’s was a very slippery slope and none of us were handling it very well.

It was an emotional (read: stressed) time for teenage Isabel.

What made things even more emotional was the fact that winter was sticking around that year. There was snow on the ground when there shouldn’t have been any freakin’ snow. My heart was black and the black sky wasn’t helping.

At some point I had a dream. I don’t remember the specifics of this particular dream. I just remember I woke up and knew that if I killed someone the snow would stop and the sun would shine again.

Dude, I told you I was pretty stressed.

Of course I didn’t kill anyone (that you know of!). But you get what I’m saying; I hate the snow. I hate lack of sun. I crave nice sunny weather.

And yet, again, we wonder why adult Isabel lives in Seattle.

I’ve been wearing my winter coat every morning on my way into the office. It’s the middle of May, and yet, still wearing the winter coat. While my coat is pretty cute and cozy, it’s a little too late in the year to still have to wear my winter coat.

My alarm went off this morning at 5:30, like always. But unlike always, I awoke to the sun peeking in through our bedroom window. At first I thought I had over slept. But then I realized, I hadn’t over slept.

The sun was actually shining in Seattle.

I walked into work today, sans my winter coat, with a smile on my face. (See, that’s me in the picture…with a smile.) (And that’s the actual reflection of the sun on the building!) (The sun!!)

It’s supposed to get up to ninety degrees today. Which is awesome considering it hasn’t gotten over forty degrees yet this year. (That may be a slight exaggeration, but you get what I’m saying.)

It’s the perfect way to start a weekend. A weekend where my bestest friend, May, will be in town visiting from Reno.

Bring on the sun, the crafting, and the outlet mall shopping.

I’m ready for it.

So tell me, have you ever thought about killing anyone? 

So tell me, do you like waking up to the sun shining in your room like I do? Or are you one of those freaks people that hangs black curtains in your bedroom so that you never see the sun?

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Holy crap, I don’t know why I had never seen this video before. It’s the music video for the song Rhett Miller did with Rachael Yamagata for their song “Fireflies”. And it’s awesome. Dude, you should really watch the video.

Valentines Day, 1994.

My college boyfriend bought me one of my first CD’s. It was Jodeci’s “Diary of a Mad Band”.

You’ve never head of Jodeci? Yeah, I hadn’t either. But dude, my boyfriend loved them. And he wanted their CD. And it was close to Valentines Day. So he just went ahead and bought it, wrapped it, gave it to me and then it conveniently stayed in his CD player for the remainder of our relationship.

My birthday, 2008.

My dad sends me a card with an iTunes gift card slipped inside.

“Sweet, I like music”, I tell The King as I hold the card up to show him what I got.

“Wait, it’s only for $15″, I say as I get a closer look.

(Look at me being all unappreciative on my birthday. It’s not a good look on me.)

And then I read what my dad had written inside the card:

“Happy Birthday, Isabel! I didn’t know what kind of music you would like, so I figured you could buy whatever you wanted with this gift card. If you download something good, make sure send me a copy!”

Right.

Maybe I’ll download some Jodeci.

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Babboo got bit at school. But don’t worry, he totally ratted The Biter out. Read all about it over at SeattleMomBlogs.

We got a free month of Netflix. It’s my latest NewThing. Wanna know what’s on my queue?

Amalah posted the follow-up to my question at her AdviceSmackdown.  Check it out!

You heard the Old 97’s released a new album this week, right? And you know you want to watch the Old 97’s performing some of their new album live. Of course you do. (You do!) Check out the video. And then come back and let’s discuss how awesome they are.

While my parents were in town for Babboo’s birthday, my mom was able to meet my older brother and his boyfriend for lunch. My mom said she was really impressed with his boyfriend. She said he was just a really nice guy with a “firm handshake”. (I’m not really sure what that means in this day and age. Do people even still shake hands?)

My mom also mentioned that my brother’s boyfriend looks a lot like my brother does.

Hum. I hadn’t thought that in same-gender-attraction you might come upon someone that looks a lot like you and that you might actually be attracted to them!

And really, how does that work?

Did my brother look at himself in the mirror one morning and say, “dude, I am one handsome son of a bitch. I really need to find a man as attractive as I am. And then date him.”

Isn’t that really the most vain thing a person can do? And also, the most awesome?! It’s like you’re announcing to the world that you know you’re hott.

Unfortunately, if I were a lesbian and ended up dating someone that looked like me, I’d be dating Winnie Cooper.

Or maybe Brenda Walsh (shown here with the boyfriend she met on her trip to Paris, The King).

But I’d really much rather date Angelina. Or Natalie. Or Kristen.

So tell me, who would your same-gender-attraction dopplegänger be? And better yet, who would you want it to be?

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Don’t forget to watch the “Tonight Show” tonight!!  The Old 97’s are going to be performing and I can’t wait to watch it.  (Of course I’m old and can’t stay up that late. But be assured I’ll be watching it, thanks to my DVR, the second I wake up tomorrow.)

Sometimes I get selfish and forget to keep the internet in the loop of what’s going on in my life. Um yeah, that’s what happened last week. I sort of forgot to tell you that my folks were coming to Seattle to help celebrate Babboo’s second birthday.

We partied like he was turning twenty one. (Or maybe just three.)

The last four days will forever be known as Babboo’s Birthday Extravaganza Weekend. It started on Thursday night with a Birthday dinner at the local Red Robin. (Hey, I figured that was the only kid-friendly place we could all agree on.) There were about 11 of us and I’ll tell you what, it was loud. And fun. And Babboo got spoiled.

I took Friday off work (Praise the Lord!) and spent the day in the city with my folks. Babboo took this opportunity to sit Grandma down and show her all the things he’s been wishing for in the latest Toys R Us catalog. (Which, at our house, is referred to as “train book”. Even though only 2 of the 20 pages have actual trains on them.)

That night, which was Babboo’s actual birthday, The King and I sent my folks over to my aunt’s house, and just the three of us went shopping for a special gift for Babboo and a little dinner out.

We came home, bellies full of Mongolian food, the proud owners of a huge train set for our little birthday conductor. (Side note #1: the plan was for Babboo to give up his “sucker” on his 2nd birthday. Plans are in motion.) Thanks to Babboo’s relentless study of the “train book” we knew that Toys R Us was having a killer sale on trains. Killer sale. We could not refuse. And now, our tiny apartment doubles as a train station.

Good times.

(Side note #2: Last night, we had to take the train out and put it in the trunk of the car. If we wouldn’t have, our poor kid would have never gone to bed. Or eaten dinner. He’s addicted.)

(Side note #3: What is it with little boys and train sets these days? Seriously. I don’t remember my brothers caring about trains at all.)

Saturday, we dropped Babboo off at a friends house and painted some trim over at the new house. My folks, and even my aunt, came to help. My mom and aunt are great painters. My dad, alas, is not. I spent my time following behind him and fixing his paint drips. But, you know what, I didn’t even care. I was just happy to have them there helping.

And then we went to my cousin’s indoor soccer game. I would have much rather stayed at my aunt’s house and crocheted. But I’m glad I didn’t, since Babboo seemed to really enjoy seeing “kick ball”.

(Side note #4: My aunt is a freakin’ hard worker. I may have to ask her to come help us some more.)

(As per my usual M.O., I spent the entire meet event game taking pictures of myself. I allowed Babboo and my aunt to be in the pictures so I didn’t look like a complete tool taking pictures of just me.)

After the game we hit up Jamba Juice, Dairy Queen, and a local Mexican restaurant. In that order. Hey, I told you it was a Birthday Extravaganza Weekend.

Sunday arrived, and so did more parties with family. More gifts…

…and more dessert.

Pretty much, Babboo’s Birthday Extravaganza Weekend rocked. Not only for my Sweet Babboo, but for me too.

I’m back to work today, the tired mom of a two year old (two!). Crap, where did the time go?

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Remember when I asked you if I should cut bangs? Head over to see what my latest New Thing is! (Hint…it’s bangs.)

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Remember how I love the Old 97’s (Rhett Miller is their lead singer)?! Well, since they have a new album coming out on May 13th (my birthday!), they are scheduled to be on the Tonight Show this Thursday, the 24th to promote it! Now is your chance to give them a watch/listen and see/hear what the hype is all about. So set your Tivo’s/DVR’s for this Thursday. I mean it, you must watch this.

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So you didn’t win my gDiaper give-away? No problem, SeattleMomBlogs is having another give-away in honor of Earth Day. So head over and enter to win!  (SeattleMomBlogs is doing loads of fun give-aways this week, so keep checking back with them!)

When she was a senior in high school, my mom started taking classes at the local community college to become a stylist beautician. As soon as my mom graduated from hair design school beauty school , she left her small town and moved to an even smaller town and set up shop at the local salon beauty parlor. My mom enjoyed doing hair and really loved her new career.

What she didn’t like is that she ended doing “sets” for all the older ladies in town.

My mom quickly moved to a big city and got a job at a nicer parlor. And then she met my dad, got married, got pregnant, quit her job and stayed at home with her kids. While my mom is still a licensed beautician, she hasn’t worked in a salon in over 35 years. But she has continued to do hair.

No family vacation was ever taken without my mom bringing along the little blue velvet bag she made that housed all of her hair supplies. She needed these supplies so she could cut the hair of all my aunts, uncles, cousins, and so she could set my grandma’s hair. (My mom is coming out to visit next week, and I can promise you she’ll bring her scissors with her.)

My mom gave me my first hair cut right after my third birthday. She clipped my hair up with the same clips she uses today. I sat on the kitchen table and tried not to cry as she cut off my long hair. I would wear that same “Dorothy Hamil Wedge” cut until middle school. (And by the looks of this picture, so did my older brother!)

The summer before 5th grade, my mom gave me my first (and only) perm. She only permed my bangs and I loved it. She also gave my older brother a perm, after months of him begging for curls in his hair. I was about twelve year old when my mom first showed me how to henna my hair. My mom’s the one that cut 6 inches off my (way too) long hair, just in time for the Preference Dance my junior year. My best friend Marci stood by her side and offered her support. (Love the bow in your hair, Marci!)

During the summer months my mom would line up my dad, brothers and all my guy friends and cut their hair under our carport. In the winter, this ritual would take place in our kitchen. I don’t think any of the neighborhood boys ever had to pay to get their hair cut, as long as they were friends with me.

I was about 21 when I went to a salon and had my first professional hair cut. By that age I demanded more of a styled cut, which was something my mom wasn’t confident doing. I forked over my $20 for the hair cut and never looked back. From time to time, in a pinch, my mom’s trimmed my hair, or helped me with a color. She still cuts my dad and uncle’s hair, and my grandma loves it when my mom does her set. Over the years my mom’s saved us all a lot of money with her at-home cuts. She’s also given me a lot of fun memories.

It makes me a little sad that my mom wasn’t here last weekend to give Babboo his very first “big boy haircut”. I would have rather seen her arms in this picture then the barber’s hairy arms.

Babboo will have plenty more hair cuts in his lifetime, and more chances for my mom to continue on with the tradition of at-home family hair cuts.

But until then, well, The King and I are still trying to get used to this new little guy with the Owen Wilson inspired do. But we’re the only ones, since Babboo’s loving his new hair cut.

So tell me, do you remember who cut your hair when you were a little kid?

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And if you haven’t yet, you have until FRIDAY to enter to win my gDiaper give-away. Even if you aren’t in the need for flushable diapers, Gdiapers make great gifts. So enter today. And tell your friends to enter!

Did this week’s “Biggest Loser” blow your mind? I know I was shocked. Head over to WeHeartTV to read what I have to say about this week’s episode and next week’s season finale.

When I was about five years old, my family moved from Utah to Corvallis, Oregon so my dad could attend Oregon State University. I don’t remember much about actually leaving family and friends in Utah and moving away. I just remember being in Oregon.

One time my mom and I flew, all by ourselves, to Utah for my great-grandpa’s funeral. We left my dad and older brothers at home. We couldn’t afford plane tickets for all of us. People just didn’t fly back then like they do now.

Another summer my folks packed up our pick-up truck, put my brother and I in the back of the truck (it was the 70’s-we threw caution to the wind), and drove to Utah to visit my mom’s family. I think I remember my mom’s little sisters and my grandma coming out to Oregon once to visit us. But that’s it. We just didn’t see family that much while we lived in Oregon.

I doubt that being away from family was hard for my dad. Mostly because we were still raising his brother, and my parents had already raised the rest of his siblings. Plus, my dad had moved away from home when he was about 18. He was used to being on his own.

My mom was different. She had lived in the same house since she was born. When she and my dad got married, they set roots in Salt Lake City, and admittedly, my mom thought they’d live in their first house for the rest of their lives. She hadn’t dreamt that they’d sale that house, pack up their little family and move away from the place she’d lived her entire life.

I remember my mom sitting down at the kitchen table with me and writing letters to her mom. I would get out my crayons and draw pictures for my mom to include in the letters to grandma back in Utah. In return I would get sweetly written letters in return from my grandma and my aunts. My mom saved some of their cards to me and they say cute things like “we miss you” and “we hope you had a good birthday. We heard your party was fun.”

This was long before e-mail and live chats. This was years before cell phones and check long distance rates (it was .25 cents, a minute, to call during the middle of the day). Heck this was even before people really used cassettes recorders to send taped messages to family and friends. We simply relied on the good old United States Postal Service to keep in touch with each other. My mom lived for the typed letters she got from her mom. She especially got excited when my grandma would send us a package of goodies.

During our time away from my mom’s family, a tradition was started. Since it was too expensive to call one another, except for special occasions, my mom and grandma would call each other and let the phone only ring once. That way, when we heard the one ring on the phone we knew that grandma, all the way in Utah, was thinking about us and sending us her love.

I remember asking my mom, from time to time, if we could call Grandma and let it ring once. I knew what it meant to do this and I wanted to also send my love to her. I would sit on my mom’s lap, and help her dial the phone and then hurriedly hang it up after that one special ring.

We had a good life while we lived in Oregon. At least I remember it that way. While we lived there my older brother/uncle Teddy graduated from high school and went on his LDS mission to Peru. My mom got pregnant and had my younger brother in Oregon. My dad graduated from O.S.U., and my mom got pregnant with my baby sister. My mom gave birth the day we moved back to Utah.

It wasn’t until I moved away to Seattle that I really thought about what my parents move to Oregon must have been like. They must have been so nervous about the road they were about to embark on. Not only were they packing up and moving, but my dad was quitting his job so he could go to college. That alone is a huge thing. And to do this while raising your own kids and your siblings had to weigh on them both. Especially since they were leaving the family support system that had always been there for them.

I get overwhelmed when I think about the fact that Babboo will grow up not knowing my family very well. I get sad when I’m reminded of all the things they are missing out on. I work really hard at teaching him who Grandma and Grandpa are. We talk about how we take a plane to visit them. I show him pictures and videos and we talk about all of my family that aren’t with us on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis.

And every few Saturday’s Babboo and I sit down together and draw pictures to mail to grandma and grandpa. And when we’re done coloring we pick up the phone and call my parents house, but thanks to free cell minutes on the weekend, we don’t have to hang up after that first ring.

And we can talk for as long as we want.

So tell me, how do you stay in touch with family and friends that live far away?

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My latest New Thing involves using something that is meant for your girl-parts on your face. And liking it.