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Why Blonde Hair Gets Brassy & How To Avoid It : Stylist Secrets

“Why is my hair yellow?”

Blonde friends, unite.

This is the complaint I hear most often in my majority-blondes salon chair over at The Hair Standard. I also hear it in my own head, as I have issues with brassy hair, too.

…as do most chemically lightened clients.

There are ways to combat it, sure. I’ll tell you those, but first, lets make full use of my domain fee so I can tell you WHY it happens to better help you SOLVE the problem.



Why does blonde hair turn yellow?

Think of the last time you got your hair done. Your stylist either used foils, or balayaged your hair. Then, remember? You sat. You took some Snapchat filtered selfies, you caught up on texts, you scrolled through memes, or maybe flipped through a magazine.

While you were sitting, the ammonia (or chemically identical “non-ammonia” ingredient) in your color, foils or not, heat dryer or not, made the cuticle on your hair swell. The bleach went into the middle of your hair strand, removing pigment. Then, the cuticle goes back down.

Not 100%, though. After a color process, your cuticle never, ever is completely closed. It’s still slightly open, leaving room for minerals from water and residue from product to get trapped. (Think of it like dirt that get stuck under your fingernail.)

That’s why suuuuper chemically processed hair (ie, box color to bleached to red to blonde again, etc) fades the fastest and takes color the fastest. The cuticle is blown wide open.

This is also why most people avoid getting their hair done at hair schools. I mean, JK.

How can I avoid brassy hair?

Over time, your hair color WILL change a bit, but you CAN control the degree of yellowing.

Most effective way? Wash your hair less often. Toner won’t rinse out as quickly, and mineral water won’t affect it.

Consider a soft water filter if you don’t already have one. No matter how pure your blonde is when you leave the salon, yellow, brassy, dull blonde hair will absolutely, 100% plague you if you live in a place with mineral-heavy water (like here, Las Vegas), and do not have a soft water filter in your home.

Use a purple shampoo.

Use a CLARIFYING shampoo. Sometimes, my clients get cray with purple shampoo. It’s possible to over-tone, making your blonde a little muddy if it’s toned and toned and toned. (This my own Achilles heel.) Before toning again, use a clarifying shampoo to rid your hair of build up. It won’t make your hair soft (heads up!), but it WILL give you a fresh slate to start over without making your hair muddy.

Use professional hair products, both cleansing and styling…if you’re blonde. That’s a conversation for a different post, but here’s the gist: there are often pigments and waxes in cheaper products that not only dull hair, but cause build up on hair strands. I’ve had several clients who’s hair absolutely does not hold toner because of all the waxy residue. Cue prayers at the hair bowl on my end.

If brassy hair is a terrible, life altering, reoccurring issue that drives you nuts, talk to your stylist about the possibility of your hair being over-porous. Have you had years of color? Recent hair color overhauls? Box color in the last three years? If so, your cuticle may be unable to hold color/toner because it’s wiiiide open. A chemical treatment, like a split-end mender or even Brazilian Blowout, can help that. Both services will chemically seal down the outside of your hair shaft. (That’s the hairstylist’s big secret. Sure, it’s supposed to tame curly/frizzy hair, but most of us have used it after being dark and going blonde to help with breakage. I’ve even used it on several girls’ I’ve worked with extensions to extend the life a little longer when the ends get fuzzy.)

Make an appointment. Sometimes brassy hair is inevitable and just means you’re due for an appointment, and your stylist can always help you! I know this place The Hair Standard that has an impressive amount of hair magicians.

/ Babies, Mom Life, Toddlers

Post Partum Survival : Blowing Up Your Husband’s Phone By 4:00 PM and Other Tips

We’re three months in to three kids, four and under.

That big “3” is a flagged milestone for me, because in the past, I’ve always struggled right here. At three months, the adrenaline is gone, life insists on hitting the gas again, and I’m kinda sorta just running alongside with my shirt stuck in the door. That’s three months. Breathless while yelling, “We’re doing it! We’re doing it!”


A few things have made life a tad easier, and the transition significantly smoother. My life would have been much easier if I’d figured this out before the third time around:

Paper or plastic. I’m not environmentally considerate when I’m in new mom mode, just to be clear. My sanity trumps the planet for a couple of months. We go all paper plates, and even put them where the real dishes are. Plastic utensils. No dishes. Maybe no food sometimes, too.

I’ll plant some trees in a few years.

Alone time. Naptime has been a real bust lately. My boys have been sharing a room for five months, so one is always a displaced wanderer while the little one naps-but-not-really, and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve realized that rest time is just as much for me as it is for them.

Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms for naptime, please know that Mommy will lose her mind and throw away all the toys with batteries.

I just need about 30 or 45 quiet minutes to myself. I have to sit down…without someone climbing on me, FOR THE LOVE. Instead of frustration from failed attempts to keep my boys contained in individual rooms, I do rest time backwards: I am in MY room. I leave the door open, and from there I can see them in our loft as I let them watch too much TV, but it’s a game changer.

One clean room. That’s it. Just one. Clean as an adjective, or clean as a verb, it doesn’t matter; not happening. It’s borderline impossible to have a clean home, or even just CLEAN a home, with little boy shadows that are four and two. For my sanity, I’ve let it go. It drives me a tiiiiny bit less crazy if there is just ONE room in the house that’s clean, even if it’s the guest bathroom.

(Today, I made my bed, then grabbed socks from my dresser. I sat back on the bed to put them on, and a little, annoyed voice asked me to please get off of his nest. In that .82 seconds it took me to grab socks, my sheets and pillows were silently wrapped up in what looked like a weird tangle of spaghetti noodles.

I mean, nest.

Soooo, copy and paste that scenario with the rest of my house.)

Hire someone to clean the house. Sell your soul if you have to, or your kidney. You only need one of those.

Eat. Sounds stupid. I get busy darting around to semi-time sensitive matters: feeding a baby, investigating silence, saving a kitchen pot from flying over the wall (“to the moon”), keeping someone from climbing on the fridge, naptime, pulling my children out of the washing machine. (That was also today. You know, it’s really just been a rough day.) I don’t even think to eat because, wait, is that a bath running?!

Hold on. I have to eat, though. I’m so much happier and have much more energy when I eat. ‘Cause humans need food, you know? I have quick snacks to grab on the go, and pre-made protein shakes have been lifesavers.

Hell must be pretty close to freezing over if I, Ashton, have to remind myself to eat.

Friends. I have to get out and see civilization. Meeting friends for an outing makes me so happy, even if I get there with bent sunglasses and sweats.

Text your husband a LOT around 3:30 as a distress signal. I don’t know. It just makes me feel better. It is a W I L D time at my house, but it’s hilarious and brings so many laughs. Every day is a new adventure and very entertaining…until about 3:30. At that late afternoon point, I’d say we’re doing a little better than just “surviving,” but a solid belly flop down from “thriving.” When I text Brian, “Hey babe, so what time you think you’ll be home? Home for dinner?” he knows it’s cryptic MAYDAYYYY. Does he always respond to my flares? No. Maybe he’s working. Maybe he’s ignoring me. Either way, that’s when I return to cleaning up red Popsicle to the beat of the Paw Patrol theme song.

Have a general “IDK IDGAF LOL” attitude. (Mom, don’t look those up.) Just don’t care. We safe? Fed? At least have undies on? Great. I’ve heard several people mention, “This, too, shall pass.” I kind of hate that. I KNOW it will pass, and I’m not sure if I’ll want it to. I don’t want to ride out this season of life like I’m huddled in a storm cellar. I LOVE having young kids at home! It’s exhausting and crazy, but I want to embrace it! Not sweating the small stuff sure helps enjoy it, cupboards full of paper plates and all.

/ Family, Mom Life, Parenting, Toddlers, What's Going On Wednesday

Roscoe Turns Three, + Life in iPhone Photos

This little mister is three.

Usually, I have the, “I can’t believe my baby is __!” feelings, but this birthday was opposite. I can’t believe Roscoe is ONLY three. He seems so much older!

Above all, Roscoe is SWEET. He has the most precious, high-pitched voice and the face of an innocent little angel. Judging by the amount of scribbles on the wall, “innocent” is not quite accurate. Sometimes angel, never innocent. 🙂 Roscoe is strong willed, independent, determined, and confident. I hope he holds on tightly to those characteristics, but if we could dilute them just a bit, it would make toddlerhood a lot less…toddler-y.

He runs our family with a very effective combination of contagious laughter and a major ‘tude, the likes of which our household had never experienced. In an interesting twist, his little fire inside has created an eager, motivated child. You want his shoes on? Done. (He knows the pair he wants and there will be no alternative.) Want him buckled in the car? Done. Want him to get Pick up Shayne? No, of course not. But he’s done that, too.

He even potty trained himself in December to wear Gus’s Ninja Turtle undies. Really. I discouraged it, because, duh. Why would I be mid-potty training with a new baby? I told him, “You can’t wear those, but you wear diapers! YAY! Diapers are great! Maybe when you’re bigger and don’t wear diapers anymore, we can get you some underwear!” Next thing I knew, he had on Gus’s underwear. Every. Single. Day. I told him he couldn’t wear them if he went potty in them.

“K.”

“Tell me if you need to go potty. If you need to go, I can help you, okay? Oh, gosh, can you reach the toilet? Let me know!”

“K.”

(Spoken like a real boy.)

And…that was it.

He’s since received his own underwear, for the record.

Roscoe is seriously theeee cutest little heart exploder. He loves to “snuttle” with you at night, draws on walls and feels deeply apologetic about it, does it again the next week, loves blue anything, our friend/occasional babysitter Drew, Power Rangers, bad guys, and his sister. His birthday was full of gasps and absolute amazement. I’ve never seen such awe at Chuck E Cheese. I LOVE this boy. He melts me.

(Look at this blurry excitement! He was so enthusiastic when Chuck E came out…to sing to another kids, because that’s not the birthday package I bought. I stand by that decision, but was thrilled we had the opportunity to freeload.)

Today, we celebrated again as a graduation ceremony was commenced.

We were so proud as Gus opened the preschool graduation program, leading the audience in a dazzling rendition of The Pledge of Allegiance. “…with yiberty and justice for ALL.”

Gus completing a whole year of preschool and still not quite pronouncing “L” is such a tender mercy. I will cry when he figures it out.

He’ll be back in one more year of pre-k next year, and Roscoe is chomping at the bit for his turn at school. He already loves Gus’s preschool teacher, and has had his own backpack ready in the closet since last fall! In fact, today he hopped in the program, and already knew all the songs from Gus…so, we let him stay and perform while I fed Shayne. Roscoe wasn’t quick to give up the spotlight after his birthday yesterday.

Lastly, Mother’s Day. I love being Brian’s wife on Mother’s Day. There are no gifts involved, per se, but he takes great care of me. He made my favorite food, Eggs Benedict and salmon with “a mango relish.” All those hours of Food Network are really paying off.

My only request was to be alone in my room with visiting hours, which was a joking-haha-not-really-joking idea, but my boys were just too cute to hide from. Wonder if I can redeem that later.

My favorite photos from the day: my boys not wanting to take a picture with me, my boys running away from me, leaving me with the only baby who can’t escape, and the last one. Oh, that last one. Gus and Roscoe routinely veer off into the bushes, and walk on the cinderblock dividing wall. We routinely ask them not to. So, ditto on Mother’s Day. Little feet trying to sneak through the rocks, rustling leaves, little heads bobbing around in bushes. Tromping around and someone falling off the wall. I’m already laughing in this picture and Roscoe fell off the two foot wall shortly after this was taken. (He’s fine. It happens often.)

I love this photo for the pause button that it is on our life right now, and it makes me laugh every time I see it.

/ Babies, Family, Mom Life

Shayne’s Blessing Weekend

Gus abruptly told a stranger in the store the other day, “My daddy is gone.”

The person was completely caught off guard, looked sympathetically at me, and was at an awkward loss of words trying to decipher that meaning.

I asked Gus what he meant.

“Yeah. Daddy’s gone.”
“What are you talking about? He’s not gone.”
“He’s in college.”
“What?”
“He’s in Germany.”
“What?! No, he’s at work…where is always is. Everyday.”

Semantics, really, but yes. Gone. We’re all feeling a little discombobulated with the three on one parenting as Brian’s absence is felt after he resumed his normal work schedule.

…even though that resumption was a long time ago.

Anyway, I rarely have free hands these days, but I wanted to post some photos from Shayne’s baby blessing!

At our church, Brian gave her a sweet blessing, and we were beyond grateful to have so much family travel from out of state to celebrate Shayne. My grandparents completely spoiled my boys, buying them gifts and treating us all to my boys’ favorite restaurant. Both of Brian’s sisters drove 5+ hours, husbandless, kids in tow. I’m seriously so impressed, and flattered that they came! We LOVED spending time with our cousins and grandparents, and it made the weekend extra exciting for my boys.

Shayne wore this little number, made from my wedding dress. The dress detail is just fluff in relation to the blessing, but it was a major highlight for me. I never had predetermined kids’ names since age thirteen, but I’d always wanted to make a special baby blessing dress. Kind of a dream come true, if you will.

How did I get these three?/How do I have three?/I couldn’t be luckier to have my own little family within my biiiig (and growing!) family!

/ Babies, Mom Life

This Bunny Clock Is Making Me Try Harder & Also A Little Bipolar

I once read that time unwatched is its own treasure.

It’s a double edged sword, that time unwatched thing. I cycle through both sides of it every day.

Although the “unwatched” detail is a bit unintentional in my situation, due in part to being frazzled, I’ve very much treasured this time home with my kids as the new-baby dust settles.

So much so that I have yet to hop back into my job full throttle, even though I love my work. I’ve also enjoyed time away from my computer and phone.

We’ve been home, making forts, playing “police getaway cars,” and changing new baby sister’s bows every few hours.

Time has just drifted, gently and without aim. As a person who is always scheduled, this is the first time I’ve let it, because it seems almost merciful.

Our mornings are lazy. Some of us enjoy a little nap from a long night, while others enjoy the new freedom this brings. The four (!) of us stay in jammies until the tractors we play with have a new construction job near a dresser, and we pause to choose a shirt, and whatever mismatched pants are clean/especially favored.

What a luxury to enjoy these long, bright mornings that then greet the afternoon as we picnic in our backyard.

(It’s a very small backyard, and the cuisine is Cars mac and cheese, but still.)

Several times a day, I am in Shayne’s room, swaddling her, feeding her, changing her, and lying her down for naps…and there’s always this clock.

I feel like this new ticking clock in Shayne’s room is kinder with its time, more generous than past clocks. This clock seems more friendly and warmer than Time usually does (the bunny ears will do that). When I rock with my baby in her glittering room, that clock is smiling at me, telling me to go ahead. Enjoy. Savor the minutes. Don’t rush. Don’t make a list. Don’t worry about your phone. Be MIA. I can hear the seconds tick along with my most loved, squeaky new baby noises while we snuggle in her rocking chair.

And I am so deeply grateful for this blissful time unwatched.

So, we go slowly.

Sometimes, there is nothing I love more; sometimes, the pace drives me crazy.

Is that the hormones?

I like to stay busy. I enjoy productivity. I don’t hold still. In fact, I haven’t even been to a movie in YEARS. I can’t sit still in a theater, and if I must, my mind still wanders out of there while making notes of forgotten groceries and other to-do lists. My good friends know this “staying home and relaxing” thing has been a difficult art for me to master. I love (LOVE) slow days with my babies, but it DOES come at the expense of a constantly messy house, and a smaller second income from my working a little less.

My mental state by 3PM is occasional collateral damage, also.

I have two shadows. Alwaaays. Those shadows have no real plans most of the week, and by late afternoon, I just crave a few feet…but shadows gon’ shadow.

My shadows are not inconspicuous. They’re working on their inside voices (Brian recently hosted a mildly successful “how to close the door without slamming it” seminar in their room), and with a new baby in the house, they’re a little more frustrating to have Power Ranger-ing in a room.

When they’re not shadowing, they’re either being sweet playing together, or making very impressive messes. It’s a dice I roll.

I struggle to not lose my patience every day.

I’ve gone through a lot of Magic Erasers.

I’m tired.

…but then, there’s that ticking clock. When I’m at my wit’s end, in a house bewildered by its own disarray, there’s this clock I hear. That little second hand, sneaking by. A bit more time, sneaking by.

And it takes me back to the beginning of my giddy-frustrated-guilty-giddy cycle with the same thought: time unwatched is its own treasure.

(I’ll keep you posted when the AA batteries are removed if my emotional teeter-tottering becomes too exhausting.)

/ Babies, Family, Mom Life, Pregnancy, Toddlers

Gus and Roscoe Meet Shayne

After a long afternoon with a four-year-old, two-year-old, and 5-week-old, I’m not exactly sure who has the reins. There are reins, right? This morning started earlier than normal, questioning the whereabouts of two pairs of child scissors. (Don’t underestimate the possibilities.)

At some point, I scooped up my boys, and we watched this a few times. They LOVE watching this special video, and it made me teary and a little more patient.

Our friend Davis Mackay caught every second of Gus and Roscoe meeting their brand new baby sister, and I’ll love it forever!

I love watching the boys run in with their own, well-loved blanket to gift Shayne, and being reminded of their sweet thoughtfulness. I love the Las Vegas sky and reminiscing about the very unusual, snowy morning we’d had earlier. I love feeling my boys’ wonder for both their baby sister as well as everrrrything else in the hospital room all over again. I worried that Davis coming in four hours after delivery might make for some weird footage, but, as it turns out, I cherish everything about the newness of my baby girl (and epidural numbness in my legs ha), and am thrilled we caught her before she headed into the NICU.

Davis Mackay. If you’re having a baby, go find him.

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