I was brushing my hair this morning, and I realized that I have been having a bad hair year, not just a bad hair day. I cut my hair off shortly after Molly was born, and I have been attempting to grow it out for well over a year. Sadly, my hair is giving me the proverbial finger, and continuing to do as it pleases. My stylist even recommended that I have my thyroid checked because it was growing so slowly. Sadly, my thyroid is just fine, so I have absolutely no excuse for being overweight and having bad hair. I am ready to cut it all off again, but I know that I started growing it back out for a reason as well. Short hair requires lots of maintenance, and I have no time to keep it trimmed and colored the way it needs to be. The actual styling takes less time with short hair, but more frequent salon trips are required. And then there are the gray hairs. Why do they have to be a different texture?? Isn't it bad enough that they are gray, do they have to stand on end and taunt me? They never lay down and play nicely with the rest of the hairs, even when they are dyed the same color.
As for the weight loss, the reason there have not been any updates is that there aren't any updates.....AARRgggghhhhh!!! I have been working out at the gym, and I have been watching what I eat, but still, nothing...I have lost somewhere between 6 and 8 pounds depending on the day. The scale taunts me in the mornings, and my shorts remain too tight. I need to really get serious with the caloric intake. I am doing better than I was, but obviously, that is not enough to continue to lose. My fitness buddy is looking fabulous. You would think that would be incentive enough, but for some reason, bad habits continue. Molly came into our bedroom this morning, holding a box, and announced our pizza had arrived. I guess it is a bad sign when your daughter's idea of breakfast in bed is delivering pizza. The box had no pizza, but it did have Mike's keys, so he was very happy to find them before he was trying to get out of the door to the office. Having small children can make things very challenging. Even the simple things like finding your keys. He spent an entire day looking for his keys a few weekends ago, and finally he asked Colin where they were. Surprisingly enough, Colin knew exactly where they were. Behind a bush, near the front porch...you know, where everyone keeps their keys. Of course, it probably had a lot more to do with the Angry Bird key chain that he just put on his keys. Colin knew where the "little green bird" was, not the keys :)
Speaking of Angry Birds...I think my son has a problem. He is an addict already at the young age of 4. He dreams of birds, he wakes up ready to play birds, and even when he isn't playing the actual video game, he plays with his stuffed birds,and as my dorky husband says "he role plays with his birds." The good news, I have an excellent bargaining tool at my disposal. He has had two small poop accidents this week, and I told him he could only play birds after he had pooped in the potty today. The poor kid sat on the potty for 20 minutes trying to make himself poop just so he could play the game. I explained he would just have to wait until he needed to poop. Needless to say, he was quite distressed that he couldn't poop on demand. Maybe I should have slipped him some coffee in his chocolate milk?? Poor guy...maybe they have a 12 step program for Angry Bird Addicts at the preschool...
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