Yesterday afternoon sucked ass. It was awful. Both kids woke up from their naps in a cranky, sour mood. To break up the fussiness, the kids and I went to the craft store to buy some yarn, scrapbooking stickers, and picture frames. Porgie was a tyrant, and whined during the majority of the trip. On the drive home, I decided to stop at the park. I took Porgie out of her carseat, and she quickly ran toward the slides. Before I even had Izzy in the stroller, she had already climbed to the top of the jungle gym. She zipped down the slide and landed in a puddle of water. Ugh. I didn't have any spare clothes in the diaper bag, and she was soaking wet. I decided to let her play for a few more minutes while I attempted to feed Izzy a bottle. But Porgie kept whining about her wet clothes, so I decided to forgo the bottle. I sat Izzy up in the stroller, and he promptly spit-up all over his clothes. So, I had two babies in nasty, wet clothing. It was definitely time to go home.
When we arrived home, John was in the bathroom. I undressed both babies, and started making Porgie's dinner. John walked out of the bathroom sporting a new haircut. Porgie FLIPPED OUT. Hot tears and snot were streaming down her face. She kept screaming, "MAMA MAMA MAMA," as she frantically climbed into my arms. Izzy, sensing all of the fear, started screaming too. So, I had two frightened children sobbing and desperately clinging to me. John actually had to leave the room for about an hour. I had to feed both kids dinner by myself, while John sat in the bedroom.
Therefore, I have declared that John is no longer allowed to get a haircut. That seems completely reasonable, right?
P.S. My stalker never revealed him/herself. DARN! A few people delurked, which was awesome, but the person who lives 20 minutes away from me decided to stay quiet. But, I am over it. I think I am going to stop looking at my site meter. I can't honestly expect all people in the state of NJ to not read my blog. So, whatever.