So the school year begins. We're off and running. My blog has been dormant for a long, long time... roughly the time it took me to homeschool my oldest through third grade (though he could easily pass the test to graduate high school in D.C.) He doesn't play the violin or speak any foreign languages fluently but he does smile more often and he loves his mohawk.
Speaking of mohawks - I love my son's mohawk... mainly because it was my idea and my way of rebelling against the "establishment." My DH hates it. He threatens to shave it off every day but I know he doesn't have the time to do it so on we go. Will gets tons of compliments and comments on it. I love the look I get when moms ask, "So who gave him that idea?" and I say, "Me."
His pediatrician asked him which tribe he was a member of, Mohawk or Iroquois. The kids at camp called him "Mohawk Kid." I can't think of any other comments right now but there have been plenty.
I'm asked all the time my by conservative friends (and even the liberal ones) why I shaved a mohawk onto my son's head. I freely admit that I'm rebelling through my son's hair. If I was young enough, I'd shave my own hair into a mohawk but since I'm nearing 40, I thought my oldest boy could pull it off better than I. Is that wrong? I don't think so. Is it healthy? I don't think so. But it's unhealthy like a brownie is unhealthy - in moderation it won't hurt anything.
I know that there is potential for problems with body piercings and tattoos later on. The mohawk is a gateway hairstyle, afterall. But as misunderstood as my son feels, he's also a big fan of silly things and since Goth and Emo kids don't laugh at anything, ever, I think I'm pretty safe for now.
As for this blog, I'd like to keep it up - maybe change it up a bit but I'd probably be better served by spending my time working out. It's tempting to continue post, believing in my own, narcissistic way that people want to read what I have to say. We'll just have to see how it shakes out.
One last comment. I just ate my last cookie from Holland. In Holland, known for tulips and windmills, they have little celophane bags with red and white checks and the picture of a fat, mustached little baker that contain cookies that taste like the complete opposite of crap and are as addictive as crack and have many more calories. At least I think they have more calories. The bag is entirely written in Dutch and even though the numbers they use are the same as ours, I still have no idea what they mean. I also have no idea what they're called or what's in them. I will die if I don't find more of these cookies.
