Okay, so here it is: My first post about my second pregnancy. It is not about morning sickness (technically, didn’t have any), or persistent nausea (technically, had a lot), or exhaustion (mmmmm, couch), it’s not even about how insanely dedicated and supportive Steve has been throughout these first few months, when my single – and only – accomplishment each day is to get Stella to and from day care and myself to and from work. Or that if it wasn’t for Steve, we would probably skip dinner 2-3 nights a week, with the remaining nights left to peanut-butter sandwiches and orange juice – which, when not asking me to mainline sugar, seems to be the only thing this new kid likes. Heck, I am not even going to complain about the fact that I cannot drink (at least not in this post.)

No, this post will be about another one of those small but significant things left out of pregnancy manuals. The fact that I cannot dye my hair – at least not without running the risk of giving my new child a third eye. Roll your eyes if you will, but this is one of those things that I – a hair dyer since age 15 – am forced to make some tough decisions about. Instead of my usual $9.99 investment in a box of Loreal Feria Light Auburn every couple of months, I am now forced to actually go to the salon and pay an exorbatent amount of money for a highly convoluted and insanely expensive hair procedure that has to be maintained at twice the regular rate and, to be perfectly honest, doesn’t even really look as good.

Now, I need to emphasize this whole expense issue: While pregnant with Stella I actually paid $193 for a single visit to the salon. ONE HUNDRED NINETY THREE AMERICAN DOLLARS. I don’t know about you, but in my world a $193 pregnancy hair-do had better come with a salon-girl who will follow me home and wash & style my hair each morning for the duration of my pregnancy, PLUS a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s AND free car washes for a year.

This whole can’t-dye-your-hair-while-pregnant issue gained new urgency this weekend when I looked in the mirror at my painfully obvious roots and noticed a handful of wiry, witch-like gray hairs sticking straight up from my otherwise brunette scalp. We can launch people into space but we cannot come up with a pregnancy-safe hair dye? WHAT-EVER!

So, I guess I am only left with one option: Honey, I need the checkbook.