Come and get your Random Tuesday Thoughts at The Un Mom.
Somehow our iguana has escaped its cage and is now roaming freely in my home. Spike, get your reptilian arse back to where you belong before I issue an Attempt To Locate.
The other day I was gnoshing for a new hair color. Since my niece was coming over anyway to get hers done, I figured it was high time for mine. Being late at night as it was, I texted her and told her to pick up a box of color for me. Her choice, my fate in her hands. Am I ever glad she didn't come back with neon blue or Bozo orange. My hair is now light black with a hint of brown.
Wondering who dyed our hair?? He's not necessarily proud of the fact, but my husband is the go-to for dye jobs in our family. That would totally be my fault, as it started out with him just doing mine. Word got around and now he's the proverbial hair whore.
While I was at it, I figured I may as well take the scissors to my hair. I was like Edward Scissorhands, snipping away frantically. Jason will tell you that I hate my hair and paying to go to a salon makes me no difference. I decided that instead of paying for the possibility of a botch job, I'd do it on my own and either be happy with it or once again reiterate how much I hate it. The difference isn't real noticeable but I'm okay with how it turned out and am able to live with it another day.
I love quality time with my kids, but my idea of a Saturday night does not involve spending three hours in a hospital with one of them. Adam was involved in a golf cart accident at camp (won't go into details; it's already been dealt with on the other end). Nothing makes your heart drop to your stomach like seeing your kid all bloodied and bruised while puking and incoherent. In the end, he came out with a concussion and road rash that will mark him for a while. Thanks to those there in the beginning who rushed to the rescue, including the neighbors whose camp I helped TP just the night before.