This is me attempting to take pictures of my hair. It looks WAY chic when it’s all straight and stuff…but this is what I’ll probably look like most days. Mommy chic?
Ah…my arm wasn’t long enough.
Gotta love my stick straight nose.
And my raptor neck.
Ah. Cute!
And the look on my face is ridiculous…but I think you can really see the cool hair situation in this one.
Camper woke up at about 2am and wouldn’t go back to sleep. This, however, is not the cause of my consternation. When I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I had
THE BEST HAIR OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.
It was amazing. It flipped out in just the right way. My bangs were in this weird configuration that looks so sweeping and graceful. Even my skin looked rosy and nice.
Why does this always happen? I have the very best hair days in the middle of the night. By day my hair looks, well, clean. But I am completely at a loss as to what to do with it. This is my conversation with myself in the mirror everyday.
“Well Erin, what shall we do today?”
“Makeup?”
“Ok, but just mascara. No need for the other stuff. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Ok. what about the hair?”
“Ponytail?”
“We did that yesterday. And the day before.”
“Ponytail it is.”
So sad.
I got my hair cut today. I went for this:
(I know. She is lame. But her hair is Mom-tastic.)
And I got this:
Which I think is pretty good. Wow. I need to use less FLASH or…maybe I’m just a vampire. Anyway. I hate that haircuts can never look exactly like they do on the person you like them on. But hey, different heads. Different hair. All in all I think I picked something that works pretty well. Looking at the picture of Holmes + baby I think it’s funny that I actually have a cross between both of their hair styles. Interesting.
Post baby my hair got so thin and strangly. GROSS. So I think I’ll be keeping it short until it regains its fullness. Which I hope is does. Soon.
Bubby’s cold seems to be getting better. So that’s good. He’s still psuedo-miserable, snot running down his face, etc. But it’s not green, so I think that he’s on the mend.
Speaking of which, he is wailing at the mo. Think I’m going to help the hubby out.