Hunny, does this haircut make me look fat?

So, I'm a mom (as you may have noticed), but does that mean I have to look like a mom?  Don't get me wrong here, I wear my spit-up-and-mashed-banana badges (and of course, the stretch marks) proudly, but there are some things that are just not up for debate.  I have already sacrificed my waist and thighs, what else is there??

I admit it... I am guilty of wearing my gauchos more than I should and my hair looks like it's trying to eat itself, but hey, I'm trying.  It's not easy making time for yourself when you're a mom, especially when your clothes dryer is a string between two wooden poles and your dishwasher needs a manicure. I have no clue how the moms-of-yore did it. I complain about the A/C not being high enough, and they were having babies in fields and then plowing those fields ten minutes later.  All the while I am sure they didn't give a damn about what their hair looked like.  Well, I do, and in one of those "I have to get out of the freaking house NOW or I'm gonna go POSTAL!" moments, I handed off my screeching bundle of joy to the husband and decided to treat myself to a haircut. Apparently, it's been so long since I have had a conversation with someone who doesn't raspberry me in response that I have simply forgotten how to communicate.  I may as well have sent a feral cat to explain how I wanted my hair to look, because next thing I knew, my previously boob length hair is up to my shoulders. WTF?! I said I DIDN’T want mom hair! My hair is now so sad that it needs Zoloft. I guess that’s what I get for leaving the kitchen. Sigh.

Well, I may be rocking the mom-do (until it grows out or I dye it purple), but you sure as hell won’t see me driving a minivan… that’s where I draw the line.  Yeah they’re practical for carpooling and hauling kids to soccer practice, but they are just so un-cool.  Although I do have a girlfriend who drives one, but she doesn’t count because she’s a total MILF who would look hot in a potato sack (I know… if I didn’t love her, I’d kill her).  So I guess I will just have to go to play dates & listen to Nirvana lullabies in my Subaru. 

At least that’s one thing I can handle, because this “mom” thing is no joke.  I started this blog three days ago, and after every few words I type somebody needs something.  The dogs need to go out, the baby needs a diaper change, or my husband needs to poop, therefore rendering him useless to baby-tending.  My life revolves around everyone’s bathroom schedule.  At least it no longer revolves around the laundry/weather schedule.  When I started this blog, I was still line drying my laundry.  At first I was doing it for environmental reasons, as I consider us a pretty eco-friendly home, and then one day it rained.  And it rained the next day.  And the next. And the next.  I checked weather.com and the 10 day forecast was scattered t-storms every. damn. day. Considering we use cloth diapers, my job as Mommy just got even harder.  Our bathroom & kitchen had been converted into a full scale drying operation, with bibs & undies hanging from every knob, hook, and bar.  My home was starting to look like a frat house.  After a month of drying my laundry in this manner, my husband noticed that half of my mom-hair was now gray, and finally got me a new (used) dryer from craigslist.  And let me tell you, you know you are getting old when getting a household appliance is better than smoking a cigarette after sex. 

Anyways, the next morning my husband hooked up the new (used) dryer, and there was so much excitement in the air that HE did the first load of laundry!  And again, let me tell you, you know you’re old and married when your husband doing laundry is the sexiest thing you’ve seen in a while.  Moving on.  With this new found freedom from line drying, I managed to save all sorts of time. I tried to incorporate this idea by multi-tasking as many things as possible, so when my husband announced that he was taking a shower, I made him take the kid in there with him.  Of course, right after I put shampoo on my son’s head (because obviously the husband needed help), the water shuts off.  What the…??   Turns out a wasp family decided to build its nest in MY water pump, blowing the motor. Clearly, no eco-deed goes unpunished, and now I can’t even wash the damn laundry. Or flush the toilet. Or rinse the shampoo off my kid’s head. But I did learn a valuable lesson… when life hands you soapy babies, call the repair guy.