A Tasmanian Devil In My Hair

So, it’s Friday and I don’t eat lunch at work cause I’m saving my appetite for dinner.  Me and my man, Josh, have a babysitter booked and were goin out for shabu with friends. It’s been over six months we been trying to get out the door with this couple – they’re parents too so you know how that goes.. 

When I finally make it home through traffic, I open the door to find Josh amassing a pile of sofa covers and dirty towels in the middle of the living room floor.  

“Elle was sitting on top of me and said ‘my stomach hurts daddy’ then she throw up all over me and the sofa.  Lucius saw her throwing up and vomited.” 

The kids are in the bath and I wonder why Josh seems in a hurry to “sweep it under the carpet”.  It’s because he still thinks we can go out to dinner.  I have to break it to him – you can’t leave the kids with a babysitter when they’re sick and puking on everything.  He’s pissed. 

Later that night Elle throws up in her bed and then after in ours. By 10pm the sickness is taking over Josh too and he goes down loud and hard.

By Saturday all three of them need mommy but there’s nowhere to sit because everything has upchuck on it.  I start doing laundry at 6am and do ten loads that day. This is the pile that’s left to do on Sunday.

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The only thing that keeps me going all weekend is the thought that I’m booked in to see my friend and hairdresser Jaason on Sunday at 3pm.  Josh takes the kids to get some “sea air” in Malibu and I’m outta there.

Here’s Jaason. 

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Boy, am I happy to see him.

I tell Jaason to take some pictures of my hair so we can have some before and after shots for my blog.

“Glad to.” He says.

I sit in the chair.  I’m finally off duty but I’m still spinning like a Maytag.  Jaason says something very rational.

“What are we doing?”

“With what?”

“Your hair!?”

 “Oh, well, I like what you did last time.  I think this cut is good.  I mean, I can handle it.”

 “That’s good. I’m glad you’ve got a handle on it! Look at the picture. Just look at it!”

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 Jaason suggested maybe I should see him more than a couple times a year.

 Oh, and here’s my “after” shot.

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 Mama P-Dog is STEPPIN OUT!

 

 

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