It’s late at night as I’m typing this because I completely forgot that it was Saturday night and I hadn’t yet written anything for my weekend regurgitation. In my defense, I was preoccupied with two things:
- Nate shaved off his Van Dyke and I didn’t notice for at least a minute or two. Before anyone gets concerned that Nate accidentally castrated himself, a Van Dyke is a mustache accompanied by a goatee. COME ON, PEOPLES. I don’t have nicknames for his privates, for heaven’s sake. And besides, I’m pretty sure I’d notice it right away if he lopped off Mr. Happy.
- On Friday, we went to visit a college that Zoe is interested in and then last night, Zoe and I went shopping for her prom dress and tomorrow, I’m making her wear a diaper and a onesie because I simply cannot tolerate all this growing up crap anymore.
I leave you with a post I wrote about my girls last year. Honestly, if I could have only one super power, I’d choose the ability to make time stand still.
Happy Sunday, everyone!
Sometimes she literally makes me see red
(originally published March, 2010)
The other day, Zoe decided that she was tired of being Greek so she decided to switch it up a little for St. Patrick’s Day and become Irish. This is Zoe with red hair, courtesy of one box of Nice ‘n Easy and thirty minutes away from my supervision. I’ve become accustomed to it and actually like it now but at the time I was all HEY, WHATTUP, PIPPI LONGSTOCKING?
By the way, don’ t you just love how I blow out all the highlights in my photos? I do that on purpose so that you don’t come to expect a filet mignon caliber of photography from me when I know my efforts are Hamburger Helper at best.
Let’s hear it for lowering those expectations!
Be careful you don’t trip over the bar there, lying on the ground.
Zoe with red hair from a box and Helena with brown hair from God. This photo was immediately after I encouraged them to act naturally.
At this point, I think my own expectations were digging themselves straight to China.
By the way, Helena now wants to color her hair because hey, her sister and her mom do it so why can’t she? And after she continued to ask me 467 times, I was all Fine! Fine! Go color your hair! I suppose you’ll be wanting your period now too, as well? Great! Be my guest! We can all color our hair together and then compare our bloated stomachs! Then we’ll eat cheese covered with chocolate sprinkles all day every day for a week! Then we’ll bitch at each other over nothing! AND THEN WE’LL BLEED ALL OVER OUR UNDERWEAR TOGETHER! IT’LL BE FUN!
She hasn’t asked me again.
Zoe’s hair seemed to get redder and redder the longer we stayed outside.
See? I had to hurry it up lest she became a beacon for incoming arrivals at the county airport.
Is “incoming arrivals” redundant and unnecessary?
Is “redundant and unnecessary” redundant and unnecessary?
It’s not often that my girls allow themselves to enjoy one another’s company. There are usually too many obstacles in the way, like their 6½ year age difference, their friends, and fights over the computer, TV and bathroom. Oh! And who can forget their raging battles over who can set and clear the table the fastest, who can keep their bedroom the cleanest and who can love Mom the bestest?
Me. That’s who. It’s hard to remember something that never happened.
I know that they love each other.
But I’m constantly surprised when, amidst all of the YOU ARE SUCH A BIG BUTT and the YOU’RE A BIG HAIRY BUTT and the YOU’RE THE BIGGEST HAIRIEST BUTT FREAK THERE IS and the MOM, SHE CALLED ME A BIG HAIRY BUTT FREAK moments, they seem to genuinely like each other as well.
I genuinely like them too.