A week after my haircut, I went to class at my local community college. Four or five people noticed, and three of them individually gave me what they must've thought was a compliment: "It makes you look SO MUCH younger!"
Now I've never thought of myself as a person ever in the future needing to look younger. I always imagined I'd never consider dyeing my hair, putting on any kind of magic potion to make the age spots or crows' feet disappear, or heading to any doctor's office for botox or facelifts. I consider myself the anti-girly girl: not tomboyish, not butch, but just the opposite of really putting *that* much effort into looking a certain way. I'd learned it's too much unrewarded effort to invest more than a few minutes a day to beauty than what was necessary to be presentable: in the morning, wash out the eye boogers, brush the teeth, wash the face, slap on some moisturizer (or else I'll desiccate like you won't believe), and fluff out the hair (but never comb it unless it's wet).
This worked for my entire life. Well, I only learned the hair thing a few years ago.
My entire life I'd always been mistaken for an age other than mine, something between my then-current age and 18-21. When I was 12, I was mistaken for older. In college, people asked me what grade I was in. When I was 24, I was mistaken for a college student. Even a month ago, in my 30-somethings, two different people on two different occasions guessed I'm in my late 20s. I rarely wear any makeup, and I dress very plainly, and I act very immature. It's worked for me.
And then suddenly, with one compliment, it changed my whole outlook. I suddenly realized that I don't get carded anymore, and that maybe I should dye my hair to cover up the gray and maybe consider a magic potion or two.
I've officially been inducted into That Club, haven't I? *sigh*
Showing posts with label Karen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karen. Show all posts
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Hairy Adventures
So a few weeks ago I decided to finally cut my hair. After months of weak-mindedly wanting to do it and then changing my mind again, I finally made the leap and got my hair lopped off. Twelve inches of it. For some unknown reason, I had always considered my long hair an integral part of my identity. And I guess that's why I had always hemmed and hawed when it came to actually making a decision to cut off my hair.
Anyways, the final seed was planted when the girls wanted to cut off their long hair. I wasn't particularly attached to their hair, although it was pretty fun to show off their beautiful straight shiny hair. However, combing it and styling it were not so much fun, and the girls hated waking up with it tangled up every morning. So when their friend cut off her hair and and donated it to Locks of Love, we thought hey, that would be a cool idea, and decided that would be something we'd like to do too.
Elizabeth was the first one to do it in March. She loved it, and would probably do it again in a heartbeat. And I think she felt really good about donating her hair. She's growing it longer again now. For another donation? Who knows.
Abigail begged and begged to do it next. She wanted to do it the same day as Elizabeth, but due to a misunderstanding (the stylist thought it was a 12-inch minimum donation, not 10 inches), we ended up having to wait until her hair grew another two inches, in May. She also loves having her hair short. One difference is that Elizabeth wanted to grow out her bangs, but Abigail wanted to keep hers. Her hair is growing again, too, but two months behind Elizabeth.
Then it was my turn. I kept hesitating. I kept making the excuse that my hair is too curly, and it'll just puff out when it's short. I'll look like an old Korean lady with badly permed hair. The matronly look. You know, that look. I badly wanted to avoid the hairstyle I ended up with in sixth grade -- when my mom and aunt thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short and give me a perm. Yuck.
I had straight hair with a mind of its own when I was little. It was a decent length (not too short, not too long) when I was about 5 or 6. And then my mom and aunt (same aunt!) thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short. I really wanted to keep it longer, but they somehow convinced me that they're just gonna cut it a little bit. Well, every time her scissors went to my hair, they had decided that "it was uneven, and they had to cut the other side." You know, to "even it out."
I think I avoided putting scissors to my hair after that for a long time. By the time I was in fifth grade, my hair was pretty long again. But it was thicker, and getting coarse. I started to hate my hair because it was too hard to comb, but didn't know what to do with it. So again, I submitted myself to my aunt's scissors, and in sixth grade, I ended up with a bob and a perm.
You know how I feel about that.
So for the longest time after that, I largely avoided putting scissors to my hair again.
And I also avoided hair rollers like the plague.
After I got married, on a trip to Korea, I discovered "magic perm." I loved this perm. Basically they put perm solution in your hair and then iron it flat. Some people say they look dorky afterwards because their hair is so flat against the head. But I loved it. My hair looked so sleek, so smooth, so shiny, so not-coarse.
I think I went back to get it done once or twice, but then decided I didn't want to shell out the $$$ for it, so I decided to grow it out. That's when the nightmare began. My hair, remember, was naturally coarse and wrinkly. And the permed section was flat. I have no words to describe this phase of my hair where the roots had a mind of their own and the ends hung limp and lifeless.
And then I got pregnant. Too tired to style my hair, too scared of chemicals to do anything to my hair, and not girly enough to really care.
Needless to say, at that point, I finally decided I'm not going to fight my hair. I'm not going to make it do something it doesn't want to do, because first of all, I'm too lazy to spend half an hour blow-drying it into submission every morning, because at the end of the week, that's three and a half hours of my life I'm never going to get back. Second of all, I'm too cheap to shell out $$$ for my hair when it's just going to grow out anyway.
So that's when I decided when I get my hair cut I'm going to be honest with myself and the stylist that I'm not going to really style my hair in the morning, and I probably won't get my hair cut more often than once a year, so please please please don't give me a high maintenance haircut. So the stylist cut off the flat parts, and did some razor-cut thing that I never really understood, and I vowed this would be my last bad haircut.
A few years after my girls were born, I realized that my hair looks great when it's wet, but looks horrible when it dries, so I began my quest to find something that'll help there. I found some hair gunk that works well, and discovered that although combing my hair when wet is fine, I should never ever ever comb or brush my hair when it is dry. And I also concluded that long hair means heavy, weighed down hair, that won't puff out into the matronly permed look.
I went and got one last haircut just to clean off the razored edges and thin it out a little, and stayed away from any scissors for about a year and a half.
So until a few weeks ago, that was my routine: after my shower, I'd rub in two squirts of my hair gunk, comb it through, and let it air dry. Simple as that. It'd look fine until I wash it again. As long as I didn't comb or brush it. I think a few times I did blow-dry it straight, just to mix it up. But for the most part, my hair rarely got blow-dried. I loved the length because I could twist it up into a bun and then hold it there with a pencil. How easy was that!
My hair grew until it went down to my waist, and then I realized it was always getting caught in my purse straps, Abigail was always playing with it and pulling ONE strand just enough to make it hurt, and it was starting to look really scraggly. The thinning that had been done a year and a half earlier was now just horrible, and my hair was starting to feel chlorine-damaged, although I was pretty careful to wash my hair as soon as I got out of any pool. I got some deep conditioner but that didn’t help much, so it was time to go and get it cut again.
Well, since the girls had been brave and got their hair cut off and donated it, I couldn’t just chicken out and trim off the ends. I had to get it all cut off. So that’s just what I did. Twelve inches sent it from my waist to my shoulders.
It feels so much thicker and healthier now. And since I’ve got my hair gunk, it doesn’t look all puffy and old-lady-permed. At least that’s what I think.
Anyways, the final seed was planted when the girls wanted to cut off their long hair. I wasn't particularly attached to their hair, although it was pretty fun to show off their beautiful straight shiny hair. However, combing it and styling it were not so much fun, and the girls hated waking up with it tangled up every morning. So when their friend cut off her hair and and donated it to Locks of Love, we thought hey, that would be a cool idea, and decided that would be something we'd like to do too.
Elizabeth was the first one to do it in March. She loved it, and would probably do it again in a heartbeat. And I think she felt really good about donating her hair. She's growing it longer again now. For another donation? Who knows.
Abigail begged and begged to do it next. She wanted to do it the same day as Elizabeth, but due to a misunderstanding (the stylist thought it was a 12-inch minimum donation, not 10 inches), we ended up having to wait until her hair grew another two inches, in May. She also loves having her hair short. One difference is that Elizabeth wanted to grow out her bangs, but Abigail wanted to keep hers. Her hair is growing again, too, but two months behind Elizabeth.
Then it was my turn. I kept hesitating. I kept making the excuse that my hair is too curly, and it'll just puff out when it's short. I'll look like an old Korean lady with badly permed hair. The matronly look. You know, that look. I badly wanted to avoid the hairstyle I ended up with in sixth grade -- when my mom and aunt thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short and give me a perm. Yuck.
I had straight hair with a mind of its own when I was little. It was a decent length (not too short, not too long) when I was about 5 or 6. And then my mom and aunt (same aunt!) thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short. I really wanted to keep it longer, but they somehow convinced me that they're just gonna cut it a little bit. Well, every time her scissors went to my hair, they had decided that "it was uneven, and they had to cut the other side." You know, to "even it out."
I think I avoided putting scissors to my hair after that for a long time. By the time I was in fifth grade, my hair was pretty long again. But it was thicker, and getting coarse. I started to hate my hair because it was too hard to comb, but didn't know what to do with it. So again, I submitted myself to my aunt's scissors, and in sixth grade, I ended up with a bob and a perm.
You know how I feel about that.
So for the longest time after that, I largely avoided putting scissors to my hair again.
And I also avoided hair rollers like the plague.
After I got married, on a trip to Korea, I discovered "magic perm." I loved this perm. Basically they put perm solution in your hair and then iron it flat. Some people say they look dorky afterwards because their hair is so flat against the head. But I loved it. My hair looked so sleek, so smooth, so shiny, so not-coarse.
 |
| From haircut |
I think I went back to get it done once or twice, but then decided I didn't want to shell out the $$$ for it, so I decided to grow it out. That's when the nightmare began. My hair, remember, was naturally coarse and wrinkly. And the permed section was flat. I have no words to describe this phase of my hair where the roots had a mind of their own and the ends hung limp and lifeless.
And then I got pregnant. Too tired to style my hair, too scared of chemicals to do anything to my hair, and not girly enough to really care.
Needless to say, at that point, I finally decided I'm not going to fight my hair. I'm not going to make it do something it doesn't want to do, because first of all, I'm too lazy to spend half an hour blow-drying it into submission every morning, because at the end of the week, that's three and a half hours of my life I'm never going to get back. Second of all, I'm too cheap to shell out $$$ for my hair when it's just going to grow out anyway.
So that's when I decided when I get my hair cut I'm going to be honest with myself and the stylist that I'm not going to really style my hair in the morning, and I probably won't get my hair cut more often than once a year, so please please please don't give me a high maintenance haircut. So the stylist cut off the flat parts, and did some razor-cut thing that I never really understood, and I vowed this would be my last bad haircut.
A few years after my girls were born, I realized that my hair looks great when it's wet, but looks horrible when it dries, so I began my quest to find something that'll help there. I found some hair gunk that works well, and discovered that although combing my hair when wet is fine, I should never ever ever comb or brush my hair when it is dry. And I also concluded that long hair means heavy, weighed down hair, that won't puff out into the matronly permed look.
I went and got one last haircut just to clean off the razored edges and thin it out a little, and stayed away from any scissors for about a year and a half.
So until a few weeks ago, that was my routine: after my shower, I'd rub in two squirts of my hair gunk, comb it through, and let it air dry. Simple as that. It'd look fine until I wash it again. As long as I didn't comb or brush it. I think a few times I did blow-dry it straight, just to mix it up. But for the most part, my hair rarely got blow-dried. I loved the length because I could twist it up into a bun and then hold it there with a pencil. How easy was that!
My hair grew until it went down to my waist, and then I realized it was always getting caught in my purse straps, Abigail was always playing with it and pulling ONE strand just enough to make it hurt, and it was starting to look really scraggly. The thinning that had been done a year and a half earlier was now just horrible, and my hair was starting to feel chlorine-damaged, although I was pretty careful to wash my hair as soon as I got out of any pool. I got some deep conditioner but that didn’t help much, so it was time to go and get it cut again.
Well, since the girls had been brave and got their hair cut off and donated it, I couldn’t just chicken out and trim off the ends. I had to get it all cut off. So that’s just what I did. Twelve inches sent it from my waist to my shoulders.
It feels so much thicker and healthier now. And since I’ve got my hair gunk, it doesn’t look all puffy and old-lady-permed. At least that’s what I think.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Family Bike Day
We bought a bike trailer a couple of weeks ago off of Craigslist, and we took it for a 22-mile spin yesterday. We had a three-family, six-adult, six-child, three-trailer outing. We met at a friend's house just past 10am, and rode up the Iron Horse Trail to Danville, a little town about 11 miles away, to have lunch at a little restaurant called Chow. Then we rode back, returning to their house around 3pm, and got home.
It was quite an adventure. My husband managed to load our two bikes plus the new trailer (which we discovered isn't collapsible) into the minivan, which is a feat in itself. Once we arrived at the starting point, it took a good amount of time to get everything set up and ready to go. We finally got going (my husband pulled the trailer with both kids in it), but had to stop quite a few times along the way due to certain events including screaming children, a flat tire, and a wheel that fell off (these were all separate events). Thankfully nobody got hurt anywhere, and the return trip was uneventful. We returned sweaty, happy, and safely. And the kids who needed it napped in the trailer. Bonus!
Once we got back, all twelve of us had some ice cold water (Coke for those who wanted it) and popsicles as a reward.
Unfortunately I didn't think to bring a camera. Sorry. You'll just have to take my word for it that I actually voluntarily made myself sweat.
It was quite an adventure. My husband managed to load our two bikes plus the new trailer (which we discovered isn't collapsible) into the minivan, which is a feat in itself. Once we arrived at the starting point, it took a good amount of time to get everything set up and ready to go. We finally got going (my husband pulled the trailer with both kids in it), but had to stop quite a few times along the way due to certain events including screaming children, a flat tire, and a wheel that fell off (these were all separate events). Thankfully nobody got hurt anywhere, and the return trip was uneventful. We returned sweaty, happy, and safely. And the kids who needed it napped in the trailer. Bonus!
Once we got back, all twelve of us had some ice cold water (Coke for those who wanted it) and popsicles as a reward.
Unfortunately I didn't think to bring a camera. Sorry. You'll just have to take my word for it that I actually voluntarily made myself sweat.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Turning "24"
Yesterday we had an early celebration of my birthday by going out to dinner at Casa Madrid. It's a little restaurant in Pleasanton, probably no more than fifteen tables indoors. We were the only ones in the restaurant most of the time, which made me a little worried (don't other people like this restaurant?), but it was nice to have the whole place to ourselves. We ordered the Vieiras al Ajillo (scallops in lobster sauce), the Calamares Andalucia (calamari rings), the Tortilla Española (potato and onion wedges), the Pinchitos Morunos a la Casa Madrid (Casa Madrid spicy pork) and the Paella Valenciana (seafood and meat paella). Yum. My favorite dish by far was the scallops. The calamari was a close second. It could be the simple fact that I'm a sucker for seafood. But nonetheless it was really good. I'd love to go back just to have two orders of scallops and two orders of calamari.
Today my husband had to go to work (stinkin' work! It always takes him away from us! Oh well, at least it pays the bills) so I had a busy morning with the girls: bangs trim, gymnastics, lunch at Sushi-Ya, and painting a couple of bowls at Cafe Art.
The afternoon was a mad rush to get dinner going before Elizabeth has swimming lesson and I have my first day of school. (I'm going back to school for my Early Childhood Development certificate.) Throughout my entire school career, until today, I've never had school on my birthday. Before college, school always began the Tuesday after Labor Day, and always ended the second Friday of June. Summer school always ended the last week of July. August was always a slow, quiet month, with nothing really happening -- not even holidays. During college, school began dangerously close to my birthday, one year even daring to begin on the 18th of August, and summer school ended dangerously close to my birthday as well, one year even daring to end on the 16th of August. But I always figured society considered the 17th of August as a day exempt from any academic or scholastic responsibilities. Until today. Today was my first day of school. It was fine -- I just had one class, and it was 3 hours long, giving me some time away from the kids. While my husband took the kids to Elizabeth's swimming lesson.
When I got back from class, the kids were well on their way to bed, until Elizabeth asked me if we're gonna eat cake. Cake? What cake? Apparently he took the kids to Baskin Robbins and picked up a small mint-chocolate-chip ice cream cake for me. And they were looking forward to not only having ice cream and cake, but also delaying bedtime. Who am I to delay bedtime? So we got Abigail out of bed, sat down at the table, sang Happy Birthday, and ate cake at 9:45pm.
It's been a good day. Despite the fact that I had to go to school on my birthday. I suppose worse things could happen.
Today my husband had to go to work (stinkin' work! It always takes him away from us! Oh well, at least it pays the bills) so I had a busy morning with the girls: bangs trim, gymnastics, lunch at Sushi-Ya, and painting a couple of bowls at Cafe Art.
The afternoon was a mad rush to get dinner going before Elizabeth has swimming lesson and I have my first day of school. (I'm going back to school for my Early Childhood Development certificate.) Throughout my entire school career, until today, I've never had school on my birthday. Before college, school always began the Tuesday after Labor Day, and always ended the second Friday of June. Summer school always ended the last week of July. August was always a slow, quiet month, with nothing really happening -- not even holidays. During college, school began dangerously close to my birthday, one year even daring to begin on the 18th of August, and summer school ended dangerously close to my birthday as well, one year even daring to end on the 16th of August. But I always figured society considered the 17th of August as a day exempt from any academic or scholastic responsibilities. Until today. Today was my first day of school. It was fine -- I just had one class, and it was 3 hours long, giving me some time away from the kids. While my husband took the kids to Elizabeth's swimming lesson.
When I got back from class, the kids were well on their way to bed, until Elizabeth asked me if we're gonna eat cake. Cake? What cake? Apparently he took the kids to Baskin Robbins and picked up a small mint-chocolate-chip ice cream cake for me. And they were looking forward to not only having ice cream and cake, but also delaying bedtime. Who am I to delay bedtime? So we got Abigail out of bed, sat down at the table, sang Happy Birthday, and ate cake at 9:45pm.
It's been a good day. Despite the fact that I had to go to school on my birthday. I suppose worse things could happen.
Monday, March 9, 2009
when it rains it pours
you'd think that as a mommy to two preschoolers, i'd be seeing illness striking the kids and not so much me. but during this past month-and-a-half, i've had two consecutive bouts of sore throat/fever/aches and am now dealing with pinkeye. the kids? aside from a little bit of runny nose here and there, they're fine.
don't get me wrong, i don't wish anything upon them and am so grateful that they haven't had any of the stuff i've had these past weeks, but i thought mommies get illnesses from their kids, not bring it home themselves to share with the family like it's takeout or something.
now i gotta find some wood and knock on it. and then get the clorox wipes and scrub it down.
don't get me wrong, i don't wish anything upon them and am so grateful that they haven't had any of the stuff i've had these past weeks, but i thought mommies get illnesses from their kids, not bring it home themselves to share with the family like it's takeout or something.
now i gotta find some wood and knock on it. and then get the clorox wipes and scrub it down.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
valentine's day
since valentine's day happens to be my daughter's birthday, i think it's safe to assume that for the foreseeable future, we won't be going out on dates and leaving the kids with a sitter anymore on february 14.
this year for v-day we spent most of it either preparing for my parents and sister's family to come over for dinner to celebrate abi's birthday. the day before, however, we had our own v-day date. that morning my husband took the kids(!!) and went to costco to go grocery shopping for me, since my cold (cold? flu? who knows) pretty much had my butt kicked and my head in pieces. while he was there, he got the milk, eggs, and bread, and also came home with a dozen red roses. i was shocked because i can't remember the last time he got roses on a routine grocery run, much less on a grocery run with the kids.
anyways, since the price of red roses mysteriously goes up at this time of year, i just had to know how much they were. $15! i was elated! because they're totally overpriced, i never expected a dozen for valentine's day (last year i asked him for ONE red rose, and my man delivered!) anymore, but i think i'm going to have to start expecting them now every v-day for as long as we have costco membership and they keep their rose prices down in february.
so that was part one of the v-day gift.
part two: my mom came to spend the night (she comes over a couple times a week after work so she doesn't have to drive an hour home late at night) so we left the kids with her and went to get a chinese foot massage. an hour long. for $25. they soak your feet for 20 minutes while they massage your head, neck, and shoulders. then they work 10 minutes on your left foot, then 10 minutes on your right foot, and then flip you over and spend the last 20 minutes working on your back. so we got a massage-for-two for a pretty good bargain, considering that you can easily spend $75 (or even more!) on a massage at a day spa. i'm aching to go back already.
part three: we went to our new favorite frozen yogurt place. it's like pinkberry, and i wouldn't be surprised if it's modeled after pinkberry, but we don't care, because there's no pinkberry in our area. (can you tell we like pinkberry?) anyways, this place has the same tart frozen yogurt, the same fresh fruit toppings (my favorite is the blueberry), and the same bingsu dduk (mochi balls). yum! we split a medium, original flavor, with bingsu dduk, blueberries, and mini-m&m's since we didn't have to hide them from the kids. (we usually just get the bingsu dduk and fruit and not chocolate with them.) and bonus: since it was raining, we got a double-stamp on our frequent-buyers card!
part four: we went to see gran torino. it was a pretty good movie. i won't give any spoilers, but i'll tell you this. going in, i knew nothing about the movie other than that it's got something to do with a car and clint eastwood. for some reason i thought it was some kind of lots-of-special-effects racecar type of movie, and really went to see it just to spend time with my husband, not because i really wanted to see the movie. but when it was over, i was so glad that i went to see it. and just so you know, the movie's got nothing to do with racing.
so it was a good day. better than i expected. no ooey gooey greeting cards, no candlelit dinner, no house-all-to-ourselves-since-the-kids-are-with-the-grandparents, but it was all good. my husband loves me, i love my husband, and all is right with the world. it also helps that we got groceries in the fridge, a dozen red roses in the living room, a side-by-side massage for cheap, frozen yogurt that we don't have to share with the kids, and two hours in a movie theater while the kids are safely sleeping at home with grandma in the next room.
who says valentine's day needs to be celebrated on the 14th?
this year for v-day we spent most of it either preparing for my parents and sister's family to come over for dinner to celebrate abi's birthday. the day before, however, we had our own v-day date. that morning my husband took the kids(!!) and went to costco to go grocery shopping for me, since my cold (cold? flu? who knows) pretty much had my butt kicked and my head in pieces. while he was there, he got the milk, eggs, and bread, and also came home with a dozen red roses. i was shocked because i can't remember the last time he got roses on a routine grocery run, much less on a grocery run with the kids.
anyways, since the price of red roses mysteriously goes up at this time of year, i just had to know how much they were. $15! i was elated! because they're totally overpriced, i never expected a dozen for valentine's day (last year i asked him for ONE red rose, and my man delivered!) anymore, but i think i'm going to have to start expecting them now every v-day for as long as we have costco membership and they keep their rose prices down in february.
so that was part one of the v-day gift.
part two: my mom came to spend the night (she comes over a couple times a week after work so she doesn't have to drive an hour home late at night) so we left the kids with her and went to get a chinese foot massage. an hour long. for $25. they soak your feet for 20 minutes while they massage your head, neck, and shoulders. then they work 10 minutes on your left foot, then 10 minutes on your right foot, and then flip you over and spend the last 20 minutes working on your back. so we got a massage-for-two for a pretty good bargain, considering that you can easily spend $75 (or even more!) on a massage at a day spa. i'm aching to go back already.
part three: we went to our new favorite frozen yogurt place. it's like pinkberry, and i wouldn't be surprised if it's modeled after pinkberry, but we don't care, because there's no pinkberry in our area. (can you tell we like pinkberry?) anyways, this place has the same tart frozen yogurt, the same fresh fruit toppings (my favorite is the blueberry), and the same bingsu dduk (mochi balls). yum! we split a medium, original flavor, with bingsu dduk, blueberries, and mini-m&m's since we didn't have to hide them from the kids. (we usually just get the bingsu dduk and fruit and not chocolate with them.) and bonus: since it was raining, we got a double-stamp on our frequent-buyers card!
part four: we went to see gran torino. it was a pretty good movie. i won't give any spoilers, but i'll tell you this. going in, i knew nothing about the movie other than that it's got something to do with a car and clint eastwood. for some reason i thought it was some kind of lots-of-special-effects racecar type of movie, and really went to see it just to spend time with my husband, not because i really wanted to see the movie. but when it was over, i was so glad that i went to see it. and just so you know, the movie's got nothing to do with racing.
so it was a good day. better than i expected. no ooey gooey greeting cards, no candlelit dinner, no house-all-to-ourselves-since-the-kids-are-with-the-grandparents, but it was all good. my husband loves me, i love my husband, and all is right with the world. it also helps that we got groceries in the fridge, a dozen red roses in the living room, a side-by-side massage for cheap, frozen yogurt that we don't have to share with the kids, and two hours in a movie theater while the kids are safely sleeping at home with grandma in the next room.
who says valentine's day needs to be celebrated on the 14th?
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