Hit and Run...

I know I've been sporradic with my posting of late, and I can only plead Holiday-itis. Between playgroups, christmas parties, cookie swaps (2 so far), more playgroups, and shopping and wrapping and decorating.. I'm amazed I still find time to pee and brush my teeth between bouts of laugh/sobbing and emoting on my hair. Speaking of emoting on my hair, yesterday it again paid the price for my emotional outbursts... I cut off 6 inches or so and it is now in a short layered bob around my head. This is good because it is what I refer to as "wash'n wear hair" - meaning I can wash it, squoosh a little mousse or gel in it, scrunch it up and go. This is not so good because when they say a "bob" they don't tell you it means you will end up actually looking like your name might be "bob".

Which reminds me, I used to use the name "Bob Oswald" to register all my software. That's neither here nor there, really, but is somehow humorous to me now....

Any road, I now have short, fabulous soccer-mom hair and I may have to put some streaks of purple just so I can still freak everyone out at the Mommy and Me playdates. Note to self: now might be a good time to buy combat boots. You know, before I give in to the brainwashing and become TOTALLY establishment. (I still refuse to buy a membership to Wee Gym, so at least I still have a few hold-outs.) And when I get invited to Gymboree again, I can always flash my tattoo and shake up the cultist mini-van set a little.

Oh, and Mom if you ever read this... thank you for never forcing us to sit on the lap of some guy's husband dressed as Santa. Jack went willingly, but I was astonished at the number of moms who were content with photos of their precious little darling sobbing uncontrollably in the lap of a complete stranger. Seriously. My therapy would be a lot more expensive if you had forced me to sit on some guy's lap against my will every year.

Oh..and if the real Santa is reading this... I was only kidding about the soccer moms being in a mini-van cult. Please bring me a mini-van. I need something that will haul all the toilet paper I'll be buying at Costco. And we'll leave you the good cookies this year, not the ones that I burned because I was wrapping presents and forgot I had put that last batch in the oven. And I'll forgive you for never bringing me a radio controlled car "because they were for boys". K, Thanks.