It's been a while.

Yikes.

A long while.

Things have been crazy here. And I can't figure it out. Like how to settle us down and make us not crazy.

Or make my brain not crazy at least.

I've even tried to write before today. And what came out was like this whirlwind of schizophrenia. I mean, seriously. I sat down at this computer and started typing this circular, non-sensical like defense of Donald Trump and than my irritation with the "Birthers" and then my irritation with everyone criticizing those who cheered for OBL's death (Oh, that's right, I'm abbreviating. Back off. Oh and look at how bi-partisan I am, if I was defending Fox News I would have used UBL. Just goes to show you.) and how we should just be united in victory and who cares if other people want to celebrate the death of one of America's greatest enemies and people should just mind their own business, anyways, and then my apology for making things political and then I went from talking about Jesus to house shopping and at one point I even brought up our sex life. (All good things of course.) :)

What is that? Pick a point and get there.

Yikes.

It was bad.

So here I am today trying my best to find something to talk about and focus this mushy brain on it.

And what better topic to discuss than myself?

Seriously.

I'll take suggestions.

Anyways. Today. I feel like a new woman. A pretty woman. A well-put-together-gorgeous woman!

Because..... I got somewhat of a makeover!!!!!

First of all, let me just say to you that my husband, Zach is his name, he is fantastic. The best a girl could ask for. Like seriously, there is no better man.

That's a fact.

I will fight you on it.

For Mother's Day he got me, ahem, I mean the kids got me, a Hair Cut and Color.

Oh praise Jesus.

Can I get an Amen?

Lets ignore the fact that I haven't had a hair cut since before I was pregnant with Scarlett. Lets ignore the fact that I haven't been able to brush through my hair in less than 30 minutes in quite a while.... Lets ignore the fact that my head has been shaped like a Christmas Tree for the last two years.

Yes, lets ignore all of that.

And focus on the greys.

Oh the greys.

First, for my own benefit, let me say this, "Grey hair is a crown of splendor, it is attained by a righteouse life." Proverbs 16:31

Ok. That needed to be said. Oh man, I feel so much better.

Now you feel guilty for judging my very premature greying hair, don't you? You had no idea I was so righteous.

Or. Er. Self-Righteous.....

Anyways, as flattering as Scripture is, although rarely....., something had to be done.

And I have been saying those for months right. You knew I was never going to do anything about it. I can't even have my toes painted consistently, you knew I was all talk. Or at least years of talk and then finally when I was a true silver fox(I think that's a term for a man....) I would, probably, in all likelihood just shave the damn thing.

But my husband in his infinite wisdom saw above and beyond my faulty indecision and kid induced house arrest.

He not only told me to get a hair cut and color, he set up the appointment and took the day off of work so I could accomplish the task.

PS. I say he took the day off of work because literally my hair appointment took four hours. Four.

Ok. So anyways.

I was pampered.

Like hair colored. Washed. Deep conditioned. Eyebrows Waxed.

It was heaven.

Plus, let me just put a plug in for Tanya! Ok. I have been searching for her my entire life. NObody understands curly hair. Seriously nobody. Even people who have curly hair. And they understand curly eyebrows even less. Much, much, much less. Although, can you blame them? Curly eyebrows are bizarre to say the least. Anyways, the last lady that I let have a try, gave me bangs and when the curls dried my bangs sat in the middle of my forehead and not even in the cute emo way straight bangs can pull off. And my hair length was like above my chin, like just below my ears. And my eyebrows. Oh my poor, poor, poor eyebrows. Or what was left of them. At least you can count on those suckers to grow back. And they did.

With a vengeance.

Like a legitimate wrath of God, Old Testament, plague style vengeance.

Oh. So. Hideous.

Anyways. Tanya. Gets it. And she gets me. And she is that perfect type of stylist that can talk for four hours straight and not be intrusive without giving you a headache. And my eyebrows look great!

The only thing I can even complain about is that I wanted something way different. Like kind of out there and funky. And its not so drastic. Its more, um, just a better version of what I already had. But I still love it.

Zach just made the comment, "Oh. I thought you were going to come home a red head."

Oh. Boys. Good thing he still thinks I'm gorgeous.

So anyways, I don't have to worry about anybody mistaking me for a granny anymore. Or at least for another month or so.

ok, there was his other hair stylist that was perfection, but he's not really in my budget. Like at all. So.... That was a love and lost experience.)

So on top of my hair looking fantastic. My eyebrows actually having shape. My nails are filed and my pigs painted. My legs are even shaved.

I'm ready for summer!

Um. Ok, except for the fact I still look pregnant in my arms, and by that I mean that like my arms are actually having babies, and I'm as pale and sparkly as Edward Cullen. Pale because my appendages haven't seen the sun in 9 months. Sparkly because of this new eye shadow I have that makes me look like I'm crying glitter.

Thank you Urban Decay. I don't need to go clubbin' every day. Or in the middle of the day. Or right after I drop Stella off at preschool....

Also. I have a word problem. A bad one.

And no, its not the mild curse words I throw around casually.

It's worse.

And I've already used it in this blog.

The truth is, I can't stop myself. It keeps falling out of my mouth without my brain acknowledging that it's even in my vocabulary.

If you ask Zach what it is, he would say that it's "OMG." Yesterday, he was like, "Seriously you have to stop saying that word, you're not fifteen."

And I was like, "Um. Yes, I kind of am. At least at heart." But more importantly, I don't take myself seriously and you shouldn't either when I say that. And I don't even think through the phrase, I just literally recite the letters and my meaning stops there.

At least Miriah knows what I'm talking about.

Anyways. The word I truly mean. The awful word I can't stop saying. The abomination wiggling into every single sentence I seem to say....

Funky.

Who do I think I am?

I am not a hipster. Definitely not cool enough to get away with it. I don't even think its cool to say in ironic circles. Like. It's out.

And I'm not some 70's popstar. Or behind the times trail blazer. Oh. No.

And here I am, finding every opportunity to throw my spin on it.

I literally cringe after every time I use it. And to top it off, its not even working to my advantage! People keep saying, "What?"

Like, yesterday at the hair salon, I told Tanya, "I just want it to be Funky."

She heard, "I just don't want it to be Skunky."

So she says, "Skunky? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I definitely won't make it look skunky. I hate it when people are all streaky."

Fail.

It's the reason I didn't come home looking like a red head.

And then at dance the other night I used it too. I said, "Oh, I love Something(I can't remember what it was we were talking about right now). It's so, kind of, funky."

And the other mom says, "Its so what?"
And I said, "You know, funky." Hating, absolutely hating that I had to repeat myself.

And she says, half laughing, "Oh, I though you said Monkey."

Oy.

Maybe its not the word, maybe I'm pre-stroke and slurring my words.

Or post-stroke. That would actually explain a whole lot more....

Well, finally, finally a finished blog. I might just publish all of the crazy half written non-sense I had tried to write over the past week and a half just to show you how uncooperative my brain has been!!!

Or maybe not.

That might just be grounds for institutionalizing me.....