I decided to wash my hair today, perhaps 2 weeks after last time. It was not salon perfect, but it was nicely coiffed by the natural oils. I was on the couch for long enough, the boys were fine, fed, can get water for themselves, 4yo had recently gone to the bathroom. It should have been fine.
Post shower, I finger-combed my hair and exited the bathroom to a bunch of boo-wah and temper tantrums and damn it, leave him the fuck alones. Sure, it’s raining and we haven’t left the house, but they have chosen to “play” within 2 handslaps of each other. While they think it’s fun for 2 minutes before they start fighting, it’s breaking my brain after 30 seconds of it. SHUT THE HELL UP AND MOVE AWAY FROM HIM.
It’s just gone midday, and I’m ready for cocktail o’clock. Except I’ve been doing a good job of watching what I eat and I don’t want these adorable little scrappy shits that I made to ruin my already tenuous grasping for a bit of (willpower) zen and a few less cupcakes (or cupcake-flavoured vodka).