Livie's face is ridiculous. Spots everywhere. The whining is RIDICULOUS. I love the child, but right now she's making me crazy.
Mads is just as bad. They're like a tiny chorus of whining adorables, and listening to them makes me want to claw my ears off my head. Maddie is hungry, but she doesn't want to sit still long enough to eat. God forbid I should put her in the high chair. Liv wants to be played with, but only as far as she prefers, except that you never know what she prefers because she doesn't talk much. Mads also doesn't seem to understand that you have to tip the cup UP to drink from it. Or that she can't just go down the stairs head first.
She is infuriated that we dare to gate her. She stands at the stairs, hanging on the gate, yelling at the top of her lungs in absolute indignation at our keeping her safe. I already fear for the teen years. My fierce little ninja baby. She's ten months old, and almost walking. Horrible. Absolutely horrible. With my first I wanted her to walk. With the fourth? I'm pushing her down, sitting on her, because walking without the cognitive understanding of 'no' is a hellish event.
It's all kinds of fun around here.
I have a lot of really long, curly hair. And it's gotten so long that it's starting to piss me off. I've been growing it for a few years, and now that it's long I'm all "boo, I don't like it anymore".
My mother and husband think its awesome long, and when I told the husband the other day I was probably going to cut it soon, he looked at me like I'd told him I was going to cut off his man parts. Horror. Aghast. Devastation.
It's just HAIR. Protein, in curl form.
Anyway. Right now it looks like this: (please excuse my blurry self...and my double chin)
But I liked it when it looked like this:
I have about 15-20lbs I want to lose. Granted, I run a lot lately, but running alone isn't taking the weight off.
I eat really fabulously about 80% of the time. But that other 20%? That's what's keeping the weight on. I know it. I know myself. I have no illusions, and I know I need to make a better commitment to my health and my body in order to get back within a range of comfortable jeans.
My deal with myself is this. Once I lose the weight, I get to cut my hair. If I want to, that is.
I'm still sort of undecided. I just feel like it looks better short. Like I look better with it short. Of course, the husband and mother disagree wholeheartedly, but my sister thinks it looks good shorter. So we'll see.
The fact that I wrote half a post about my hair is disconcerting. Maybe I'll become a 'hair blogger'. OOH. I'll write about my hair transformation! Posts about the day to day life of my hair! How my hair feels that day, What it wore. WHAT IT ATE FOR BREAKFAST.
I am fucking brilliant. This is SO gonna make me famous.