last hurrah

I shouldn't be sitting here typing. My house is a pit and I need to finish packing for our quick trip to the beach. The kids have been fighting or better put: Lexi is playing nazi and Zack is doing his best to whine and complain about it. (Can you hear me? 'Lexi leave him alone. And Zack stop yipping.' Repeat.) It's been a long couple of hours.

And my sweet girl has put down the IKEA catalogue and taken up an obsession with the wrongness that is her hair. This pains me. She has wavy, thick locks - good hair, hair that should be cherished. Yet IT IS BAD. She had it trimmed for school and I thought it looked great. But did I mention it is wrong? She doesn't want a sensible 4th grade bob; she was hoping for the posh-spice/Mrs. Beckham cut. Something funky. The Pob.

She curled up in my lap, sad little kitten, and wept about how crappy her hair is. I guess those tween years are descending upon us.

{Estrogen Powers ACTIVATE. Shape of 'perfect hair that doesn't exist'. Form of 'drugfree coping skills'.}

Now I must go. So much to do...