I'm sitting here in the dawn twilight about to untwist my daughter's hair before she goes to the hair salon for her new twist style. She has beautiful, long, coily hair that makes springy twists. No, she isn't the one with nail polish in her hair, though it was her polish that was used to do the deed. Of course, it was my four-year-old who gave herself tasteful magenta streaks that would the be envy of any teenager.
When I was talking to my cousin, she went online looking for a solution (what did we ever do before the Internet?) and found one within seconds. When I did my own search this morning to confirm my strategy, I found a page on www.hair-styles.org. I'll need to purchase a creme rinse conditioner before getting started, but I have a presentiment that I'll be spending some time dabbing the painted hair with nail polish remover, rinsing thoroughly with water, shampooing, then applying a creme rinse conditioner to close down the hair cuticle. Likely it will take a pair of shears to completely undo the damage, but I'll do my best. I can think of so many better ways to spend my time than painstakingly removing nail polish from my daughter's hair, but just think! Thanks to www.hair-styles.org, I know how to do it.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
Painting the Dog with Yogurt
It’s only 10:15 in the morning, and already my daughter has managed to eat a gingerbread cookie ornament left over from Christmas and paint the dog with her breakfast yogurt. I can already tell I’m going to have an exciting day.
Last night, my husband remarked on my daughter’s dinner time behavior. “Do you see this change?” he asked. She was squeezing the hamburger out of the bun and spreading rice and broccoli over the table. “Do you think it’s the ketchup?”
“It could be the ketchup,” I said. “It’s BHA, BHT, and TBHQ, the artificial flavors and colors, and the natural salycilates in the tomatoes. It’s probably the ketchup and mustard.”
He looked thoughtful. I felt the great looming task of preparing a menu, shopping list, and cooking plan. The helpful Feingold Program booklet says it isn’t that difficult to work the program, but they don’t know me. I have a child who can’t have milk, a husband who doesn’t eat meat except for fish, and a mental block against menu planning and cooking the size of Mount Rushmore.
You don’t have to change the way you cook in order to do the Feingold Program—as long as you’re used to cooking from scratch—but you do need to change the way you shop. It doesn’t suit me at all, but I’m used to flying by the seat of my pants when it comes to food shopping and feeding my family. Chicken nuggets, fish sticks, and black beans and rice are regulars on my dinner table, along with any number of “experiments” that don’t always turn out right since I’m forever cutting corners to avoid dairy products and chopping vegetables.
Working the Feingold Program will force me to get my act together with the cooking and shopping, something I’ve been studiously avoiding out of fear of being chained to the kitchen. I want my little girl to be successful in school and not wreak havoc at home, so I’m willing to give it a shot. The worst that can happen is that we eat really well and get organized with the cooking. Besides, Ghirardelli’s chocolate is on the Feingold food list.
Last night, my husband remarked on my daughter’s dinner time behavior. “Do you see this change?” he asked. She was squeezing the hamburger out of the bun and spreading rice and broccoli over the table. “Do you think it’s the ketchup?”
“It could be the ketchup,” I said. “It’s BHA, BHT, and TBHQ, the artificial flavors and colors, and the natural salycilates in the tomatoes. It’s probably the ketchup and mustard.”
He looked thoughtful. I felt the great looming task of preparing a menu, shopping list, and cooking plan. The helpful Feingold Program booklet says it isn’t that difficult to work the program, but they don’t know me. I have a child who can’t have milk, a husband who doesn’t eat meat except for fish, and a mental block against menu planning and cooking the size of Mount Rushmore.
You don’t have to change the way you cook in order to do the Feingold Program—as long as you’re used to cooking from scratch—but you do need to change the way you shop. It doesn’t suit me at all, but I’m used to flying by the seat of my pants when it comes to food shopping and feeding my family. Chicken nuggets, fish sticks, and black beans and rice are regulars on my dinner table, along with any number of “experiments” that don’t always turn out right since I’m forever cutting corners to avoid dairy products and chopping vegetables.
Working the Feingold Program will force me to get my act together with the cooking and shopping, something I’ve been studiously avoiding out of fear of being chained to the kitchen. I want my little girl to be successful in school and not wreak havoc at home, so I’m willing to give it a shot. The worst that can happen is that we eat really well and get organized with the cooking. Besides, Ghirardelli’s chocolate is on the Feingold food list.
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