Legs, too?

Shopping for the shaving stuff was easy enough. But oh boy, the thought of using a razor had Hannah apprehensive about the whole thing. I asked her if she wanted to shave my armpits.

So there we were, in her bathroom, mother and daughter, daughter learning about shaving armpits. I gave her some basic rules.

1. Use warm water. You want your pores to open, you'll get a closer shave.
2. Never use a dull blade. And since she doesn't know what that is, basically let Mom guide you in the process.
3. You don't need to use too much shave gel. Yes, it's cool to play with, but to shave with a little goes a long way.
4. No side to side. Shave down.

Of course, I did not have much for her to shave, compared to what she had. She was first afraid it would hurt, then afraid it would tickle. When she saw how easy it was to do on me, we then focused on her. And it was quite easy, too.

"Mom, what about my legs?" she asked.
"Well, how do you feel about it?" I asked in return.
"I am annoyed by the hair," she said.
"Remember, it's your body, your choice, but I think we should talk about this tomorrow." I replied, thankful to not deal with any more hair removal for the day.

The next morning came too quickly, I was greeted with a child I almost did not recognize. She was moody, and well, just plain bitchy. Sheesh, remove a little hair and all of a sudden, I get demon child.

(Okay, honestly, we've been dealing with moodiness here and there, but this was the first time I really blamed puberty.)

After she complied with Ted and I and started to work on her room, she came to the kitchen and asked about her legs.

"Can I shave your legs first?" she asked.
Sigh. "Yeah." I said.

We went into the bathroom again, I rolled my pant legs enough for her to shave my legs. She wet them, and felt how prickly they were.

"Mom! That's gross!" she exclaimed.
"Well, you start shaving your legs, and this is how your hair will grow back. Prickly and gross. Is that what you want to deal with from now on?" I was thankful for the way Hannah set this up herself.

She felt her legs, and said, "They're not hairy!" Then, her big grin disappeared and she asked, "Mom, do you think I need to shave them?"

I ran my hand down her legs and said, "No, I don't think you do. The hair is not as thick and dark on your legs as it was your armpits, and I don't think you will get teased about your legs like you could with your armpits."

I did tell her that her skin is dry, more important than shaving is the need to moisturize her skin.

And as for the swoopy bangs...I kind of hope she forgets about it for a while. This mom can handle only one thing at a time.

It REALLY is Puberty

Towards the end of 2012, Hannah was in need of a bra. Not an everyday thing, just when she wore lightweight shirts. Keeping modest and all.

Now, another milestone. I officially record March 16, 2013 as the beginning of puberty for Hannah. Why? She is 2 out of 3 of the three big things to look for. "Buds"...check. Body hair ...check. I'm not looking forward to the third. In fact, I'm willing the clock backwards because I'm not ready for my baby to grow up.

We were at the store yesterday, I was looking at flat irons. Hannah was goofing around with pink headbands. A week ago, she hated all things pink. But here she was, on March 16, 2013, trying pink headbands. Already had a pink belt in the cart. Also had a bathing suit with a pink bottom. That shocked me. I had gone through great lengths to avoid anything with pink in her ski attire...had ended up buying boys clothes! She has boys ski boots! Now, it's, "well...pink is my least favorite color..."

She had come up to me, wearing a headband with a pink bow on top, made faces, then reached up to mess up my hair. My eyes went right to the tuft of hair on her armpit. My first thought was Whoa! When did that get there? I schooled myself and brought myself to a place of neutrality, leaned in close to her ear, and whispered, "It's time to shave your armpits."

She groaned, then giggled, then groaned again and said, "Mom! Everyone heard that!" I reassured her I had whispered, no one knew what was going on. I picked a blue razor (The Venus) and she picked a berry-scented shave gel. I texted my husband "I just discovered Hannah has hair under her armpits, I'm buying her her first razor and shave gel!" I'm sure he did not jump for joy over the fact that his baby girl, the one he held every night at around 10pm, feeding her and watching The Simpsons, was indeed at the start of puberty.

Now, buying the stuff was easy. Actually doing it...well, that's another story for another time. Hannah wants to blowdry her hair. She has not wanted her hair done in a long time. In fact, she asked for swoopy bangs. So off I go, to make my little girl pretty.

2 Ravens Fans, One Store, and a 9 Year-Old

Once the offical word came out that 49ers backup quarter back Alex Smith would be seeking release from the 49ers, I thought I'd go to Twitter to "declare" the day before the Super Bowl "wear AS11" day as a means to thank the quarterback for his years in SF, for putting up with the crap that he has, and for putting up with some mean fans. As part of the "wear AS11" deal, tweeps were to post a pic and tag it #AlexSmith. It remins to be seen if anyone else does this, the day is still long, and the only reason I'm really mentioning it is because of the attention it drew while I was out and about, doing some shopping for the get together we're having at my house.


We were at the second to the last stop, Walmart. Now, I know many of you will think "lady, you're asking for it" and in a sense, I agree. Yeah, I'm strutting my homer self in public, the day before the Super Bowl, wearing 49ers garb, carrying my 49ers purse, and holding my 9 year-old daughter's hand. As she and I walk down the aisle of the parking lot, tightly hugging one side to keep the middle clear, out comes an older man from between two cars, shouting at me "The 49ers are going to lose tomorrow!" He sneered.

"Really? You think?" I asked, his most striking feature was not his voice, not the fact that he's probably in his 60s, or maybe a 50-something who has thus far lived a hard life, but his really horrible teeth. It looked like he lost every other tooth, a testament to poor hygiene.

"They will lose!" he yelled.

I chuckled, kept walking, but turned around to toss over my shoulder "Kaepernick is going to run all over your Ravens!"

"When the 49ers lose, I'll be dancing and thinking of you," he again shouted while wagging his finger at me.

The finger-wagging actually annoyed me for a short bit, but then I thought "What kind of fool would trash-talk and finger-wag at a complete stranger in a Walmart parking lot?" I then realized where I was. Walmart. Figures. The last time I was there, I saw a lady get hit by a car backing out of a parking lot and some young punk speeding through the parking lot without yielding to the right of way. Well, without yielding to anything. Good thing the lady that was hit did not cross the path of that young punk.

Onward my daughter and I went into the store, and shortly after we set foot in the store, a young man with Downs Syndrome  approached me and showed me his Ravens hat.

"You a Raven's fan, eh?" I said.

"Yeah!" he proclaimed, wearing a proud grin.

"You watching the game tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he answered and replaced the hat on his head.

"Well good luck to your team," I replied and continued on my way to the craft section with my daughter.

I looked at my daughter and told her "I'm glad your father wasn't here. He would not have taken kindly to the old man in the parking lot, mostly because you were right there." (My husband knows I can take care of myself for the most part) We talked a little about stranger danger. And after that, I thought about the young man with Downs and had to give his parenta kudos for teaching the boy some class. If the Ravens win tomorrow, I won't be happy for Ray Lewis, I'll be happy for that kid in Walmart.