CH-CH-CH-Changes

So, I have some news. 

You may have noticed that I haven't been blogging as much. Well . . .

I got a job.

Yep. I'm going to be teaching sixth grade again, but this time at an elementary school instead of a middle school. Yes, an Elementary school so I'm preeeeetty sure the Potty Prancers will not be appropriate. Not that they ever were, but I think you know what I mean. In fact, I broke down and made some respectable potty bathroom passes instead. I'll try to remember to get pictures of those tomorrow to share with you.

Life is going to be changing around here. The girls are going to have more responsibilities than ever, and I'm going to relax my housekeeping standards. Seriously, a lot of relaxing and letting things go is going to be happening.

I've always admired working mothers and wondered how they did it all. For me, I know the answer is going to be that I can't do it all, but instead I will do what I can, crappily well and make sure that what I choose to do is important to me.  And I'm going to go and buy a lot more underwear for those lean laundry days.

Not only that, but certain things around here are going to be streamlined. The girls and I had a hair appointment the other day. I got some highlights, or a weave, or whatever it is that girlie girls call this . . .

And I love it. Funny story though, take a look at my Ginormic Head. My head really is not that big. In fact, I have kind of a pin head with a no-neck that looks a little small for my body. Or maybe my body is too big for it. I don't know.

Either way, my head is super-sized here because my hair lady, The Magician, teased it. I believe the term that she used is "back comb," but the result is the same. I ended up with this helmet of hair that I could not believe belonged to me. Seriously, it was immovable, sort of nest-like, and oddly perfect in shape. I could not stop touching it and looking at it. It defied gravity.

Hmmmm. Can I back comb my boobs?

So, I got my hair refreshed and the girlies got their heads shaved.

I'm a horrible mother and this is proof.

For all of our relatives that will be calling (Aunt Marcia), horrified, to demand of me "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEIR GOLDEN LOCKS?!!!" I'm going to have to just stop and have a moment of silence and gratitude for Caller ID.

Amen.

I had to get the girls' hair cut short because I will not have the time to mess with it in the mornings. And I know this sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is, but you know about Zoe Bug's little issue. The issue which still has not been resolved even though I was hopeful that the silky pillow case would be the magic bullet. I won't post that picture again because it's responsible for ruining several computer monitors, and for that I apologize. Really, I do.

So I got the girls excited about (I bribed them with ginormous lollipops) getting short (boy) haircuts, all for my own selfish needs.

I've been telling them for weeks that we were going super short with their hair so that they could learn how to comb their own hair. While it was short. And easy. And it was going to be motivation for them to take care of their own hair. So that when they could prove to me that they were ready for long hair by taking care of it themselves, well then they could have long hair.

Yeah. I'm sooooooo smart.

And I know that you know how this is going to turn out, but I'm going to say it anyway.

It backfired.

It backfired BIG.

They love their new hair. They especially love the bangs and to torture me they insist that their bangs be spread out just so on their foreheads in Frankenstein fashion, mocking me. Mocking me. Mocking me.

And I ask you, who won this round?