Peas and Thank You

They Can’t All Be Winners

It’s true.  They can’t all be winners.  Bear that in mind throughout life.  Please also bear that in mind throughout this post.

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment in time when this day went in the crapper, I’d say it was about…4:09 a.m.  I take that back, if I had to pinpoint the exact moment in time when this day went in the crapper, I’d say it was about 12:13 a.m., when I finally tore myself away from the DVR and the compelling story of a beautiful blond woman’s quest for love.

For some reason, this woman’s love life is a priority over preventing my need to use half a tube of concealer in the morning.

Just when I thought I was deep in sleep, completely at peace with the nutritional choices I was making for my family, I was awakened by the piercing nightmarish cries of a child, at the aforementioned 4:09 a.m., repeating the same dark phrase over and over again.

Quoth the Lulu, “I want my ice cream, Mommy!!!!“  That’s so Raven.

When it hit me that I may not be getting anymore sleep, I went through the five stages of grief:

Denial: “This isn’t happening. I TOLD her to yell Daddy!”

Anger: “I’m mad that she didn’t yell Daddy!”

Bargaining: “If you go to sleep, Lulu, you can have ice cream for breakfast.”

Depression: “I’m so bummed that Allison‘s friend Tyler didn’t get a rose.”

Acceptance: “Tyler and Ali didn’t really get a lot of one-on-one time, so I guess I should have seen it coming.  Man, I could go for some ice cream too.  DAAAAAADY!!!!”

Needless to say, we were all a little lackadaisical this morning.  Lackasleepsicle.  Lackashowersicle.  Lackahumorical.  When I should have been sleeping, showering or coming up with comedy gold for you, I was preparing for my salon appointment this afternoon in the best way I know how.  Why the Hollywood Hair Virtual Makeover on In Style.com!

A little Claire Danes, perhaps?

How about First Lady Michelle Obama?

Is my hair too bootylicious as Beyonce?

As if that weren’t enough of a time-suck, I had to then make a photo collage of the three.

I want to cut out magazine typeface and stick it all over it in inspiring messages or demands for money in exchange for the safe return of some normal looking hair.

After some intense focus group sessions ala Twitter, I decided on the Claire Danes post-My-So-Called-Life look.  Since the girls were coming to the salon with me, I got to work on some treats to ease the pain of their mother’s freaky transformation.  I settled on the Crispy Peanut Butter Treats with Chocolate Chips from Alicia Silverstone’s The Kind Diet.  You can find the recipe here, but I had to go and muck it up like uniting a perfectly good head of hair and a bottle of peroxide.

Did you know that Alicia Silverstone is blond?  She hasn’t always been.

Just thought I’d point that out.

If you make the bars, don’t substitute kamut puffs.  Or agave.  Or halve the recipe.

Because even though they look delicious, they didn’t exactly make a clean break from this pan.

Snap, crackle, plop.

We packed up our bags of soggy cereal and headed for the salon.

Guess which of these things returned untouched?  I’ll give you a hint, we had a wet diaper and Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious stuck in our heads upon our return.

I love my stylist, my husband loves my stylist and my mom, Mimi loves my stylist.  Bless her heart, she tried to make me as blond as possible on my impulsive whim in the 90 minutes she had allotted for my cut and color.  Plus, I was ten minutes late packaging up my delicious cereal bars.  The end result was what I thought was a perfectly lovely highlight job.  It didn’t even dawn on me that it looked much like Mimi’s ‘do.

That is, until Pea Daddy got home and said, “Hey Mimi, where’s Poppy?” and he kind of turned away when I went to kiss him on the lips.

We had some tears for dinner, with a side of smoothies and grilled cheez, and the girls hovered on Pea Daddy’s lap, a little afraid of why Mimi kept smacking Pea Daddy on his Pea Booty and saying, “How’s my favorite son-in-law?” when she walked by.

Maybe my husband will be affectionate with me after next week when I return to the salon a little more patient.  Meanwhile, I have several pounds of moist cereal mix to eat.

I’m going to enjoy a handful, pressure myself to give myself another grandchild and then call my dad and tell him to pick up his underwear.