13 July 2011

T-five hours!

Today is the day I'm finally doing something I have been talking about for years and years. I'm chopping the hair off.

Little nervous. Mostly excited.

I showed Jeff the picture I sent to my hairdresser (the talented Monica of Dare Your Hair) and here's what I got:

'You're going blond too? How about red...or black, black would be hot. Like your hair at Halloween...' (and on and on and rawr and blah blah blah).

It's going chocolate brown honey, sorry.

I was describing the cut to Liam, and in typical 12 year old boy fashion, this is what I got from him:

'You're going to look like a boy. I'm not sure that'll be a good look for you.'

Thanks for the honesty kid. How about this. You look like Justin Beiber. Snap.

Stay tuned for the big reveal. I'm hoping I don't look like a big huge idiot that made an unfortunate hair choice.

4 July 2011

My time is now precious.

I never realised how much of a cut my time would take, what with me having a part time job and all.

I haven't stepped foot inside of a gym in two weeks and my waistline is SO PROTESTING. One could say that to compensate I should cut my caloric intake. That would be smart. I am apparently not that smart.

Also, my kids are having a hard time with me leaving them a couple days a week to go to work. As I'm writing this, I've come to the realization that their recent whining is a direct result of this. They're used to having my undivided attention every moment of the day and it's taking some getting used to.

That said...I'll be making more of an effort to figure out how to get to the gym at least 3 times a week. Perhaps a bike is needed so that I can get there quickly during the day while at least Josh is sleeping . This is where Liam makes the big bucks with babysitting.

And the kids being whiney little a-holes? That's where me getting down on their level more often will come into play. They just miss their mommy, and maybe now that I understand this it will translate into me being more patient with them. They're just almost 2 and 3 after all. And they need this opportunity to become more independant of me.

I don't think we need to contemplate whether the 12 year old misses me. Especially at this moment when he's restricted to the house after a less than stellar 3rd term report card. Oh the joys of parenthood.

Honestly though, some days it's a joy to walk out the door. I probably need this just as much as they do. Ahhhhh.