Tuesday, October 25, 2016

The toilet, more to it than poop.

If you don't have kids yet you probably have no idea what I'm going on about, but if you do, you'd probably be saying "true dat" or "I feel ya!".

You know how the men always spend at least 15 if not 30 minutes on the toilet, with results we'll never know. I always hoped he's not jacking off to gross corny half assed porn, or worse, live porn. I was always wondering what the hell he's doing in there with a cigarette and handphone.  Well now I know. I know all too well.

The toilet is now my go to place too. I have also started to bring my phone and cigarettes in this safe corner and spend at least 20 minutes here (when the kids are either asleep or in trusty hands of course). Whether or not I actually need to use the throne, I come in, take my rightful place on it, and relax.

The bathroom is no longer a man cave, it has become a unisex cave. I just love reading mom blogs and checking facebook on the toilet, it's really the only time I can do what  I want in peace, solitude, and undisturbed.

Until I hear cries and calls, then I have to pretend flush and go back to the job.

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Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Hair bleaching at home? You sure?

What have I done?

It's been a bout half a year since I home-bleached my hair. I know right, what the hell was I thinking? I honestly felt like buying formula for my daughter was a bigger priority than my hair cravings so I decided not to spend 50$ at the salon. I thought "What the heck, I can get platinum blonde at home for so much less".

Oh how wrong I was.

What ended up happening at first was my hair barely even turned brown. I did everything wrong. My peroxide was only 9% which was nothing compared to the salons (because I didn't want to damage my hair), on the bleach package it was written that we only leave the stuff on for a maximal of 20 minutes until your hair starts damaging, so like an idiot I followed the instructions, and I didn't buy nearly enough bleaching powder and peroxide to cover my whole head.

 After 2 days I did a second attempt (because my hair didn't turn even the slightest bit yellow, I felt two days was safe enough). I bought two times as much bleach and peroxide, I also bought light brown hair colour to finish it off. The result was again disappointing. I had stripes, like a fucking zebra, only the colours were light blonde and light brown. It turns out you need to keep your hair pretty straight during the process, and I scrunched up all the foil instead of carefully folding it neatly. So I decided not to leave the house for another two weeks and re-do it a third time.

The third time I got all of it right. Oh yeah, except for my roots. My fucking roots. I had black roots, still! Fourth time's the charm right?


After the fourth root-touch-up, I had the blonde I wanted. Though a bit brassy, it was sufficient. I could at least not embarrass myself whenever I needed to go to the supermarket.

Was all that work and money worth it? HECK NO! 

After 2 weeks I got black roots again, and now after 6 months I got 1/4 black and 3/4 brassy blonde hair. It's an ombre that is more disaster than it is trendy. Not to mention all of the damage done to my hair, my poor hair, all the split ends and never ending hair cuts (when I'm trying to get my hair long!). So my advice to you who want to get your hair bleached, just go to the salon. It costs pretty much the same, and you get it faster and it's less work. Just remember that you need to touch up again in two weeks so get your wallet ready.
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How to fix your mom-self when you break

There are times in motherhood that you just want to give up. Give up on trying, give up on the marriage, even give up on life. You will feel like a useless piece of garbage who doesn't realize how blessed you are. You will take everything for granted and then stab yourself mentally for doing so.

You will cry, for God's sake you will cry. Don't keep it in, just cry your ass off. Cry as much as you need, until your head hurts, until you can't breathe properly.

when you wake up looking fucked up after a night of hysterical crying and a an excorcism may or may not have been involved.

A photo posted by Ni Putu Desi Rosita Janssen (@vitajanssen) on

After the drama, you give yourself a hug, because ultimately you know no one can understand and control your feelings better than yourself. You turn on a hot shower or bath, you sit there feeling the very warm drops of water drench your hair and eventually warm your scalp. You turn around and let it warm your face, your chest, your stomach.

You calm down, towel off, put on your night clothes, make sure the little ones are okay, and go to bed. A few tears may continue to fall, but you do so in a calm manner because you are in control. Eventually you fall asleep,and the next morning will have a huge hangover, but you will feel better, less broken, and you will feel ready to be a mother again.

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