File 86 - New Puppy, New Hair, Don't Care

Big changes in our household this week.  B.I.G.  It has been a whirlwind.  There has been laughing.  There has been crying.  There has been shade.  And, not to mention, a whole lot of pee-pee and poo-poo.  The winds of change have blown, my friends.  And Anxiety and I are holding on for dear life to a lamppost, bodies horizontal, while Anxiety tries to pry my fingers off, one by one.  She is so diabolical. 

The first big development is that the littles started their online school year.  Two little figures, sitting on opposite ends of a wall, headphones on, watching their teacher and twenty something other wee faces, on their computers.  The little CEO (Child Entertaining Others) and COO (Child Ornery about Online).  They are in different grades, my youngest in SK, so they have different time requirements, schedules and lunch breaks.  It took us a couple of days, but we have worked it out.  The new tiny employees, at the home office, are adjusting well.  They need to spend less time at the water cooler, but I will let HR deal with that. that me?  Crap.

The second life altering event, is that our puppy came home.  Oreo.  No joke, we are OBSESSED.  This sweet, little fur baby moved into the house and immediately owned all of our hearts.  Life is reminiscent to the days of a newborn.  A pee-pee poo-poo parade of epic proportions.  Laundry running at all hours.  And, of course, sleepless nights.  I remember, when the boys were newborns, once they settled in their bassinets, I would avoid making any rash movements that would disturb them from their slumber.  "Shhhhhh!  You are going to wake the baby!"  Anxiety always reprimanding me.  Now, we are in the same situation, just different species.  "Shhhhh, you are going to wake the puppy!"  As this beautiful puppy boy snoozes in his box, next to me.  

"It looks kind of creepy."  This was my youngest's response to the final change of the week.  Response to what, you ask?  My haircut.  Yep.  This mama's hair had gotten out of control, over the last few months.  Picture rubbing a balloon against your head, until it is matted and sticking out in every direction.  That was my day look.  And my night look.  My all the time look.  HOT.  I was able to find an amazing hairstylist, who could do it out of her house.  She was strict about Covid regulations, so Anxiety gave her tentative approval.  Like I needed it (insert eye roll).  Knowing that this may be the last time that I was able to cut my hair, for the foreseeable future, I wanted to chop it.  Chop it good.  And that's what she did. It felt so good.  Until I got home.  And my kid ripped me apart.  My older baby was more diplomatic.  "I like it, but I like it better when it is down more."  WTF does that mean?  I still love it.  Haters gonna hate. 

We like to pile on, in this house.  Just do a whole bunch of shit, all at once.  See who cracks first.  My guess is it will be the HR person.  Wait....  Crap.

Does Mommy need to lose her shit?

Not this week.