Hairspray

On Thursday, I kept the girls home with me. Clairey had her 3-year check up that afternoon, and it's just easier to keep them both home--that way, they entertain each other, rather than me having to work with a kid on my lap. It was early, about 8am, and I was lying on the couch while the kids watched the Disney channel. Clairey had a little comb and she was brushing my hair--i was at that point where you're not asleep, but you're pretty much out of it--moms, you know what I'm talking about. It's the same kind of sleep that you get when the kids are babies and you're doing the 2am feeding---yeah, THAT kind of sleep. These weasels still keep me up at night, so I never get a full night's sleep. So anyways, I'm conked out on the couch, and half-pint's combing my hair. In my half-asleep state, I keep hearing this sound: "ppfffttt! ppffffttt!" and I'm thinking, "Hmmmm...what is that?" and "Yes, bacon would be nice," because shit, nothing makes sense when you're half asleep. I finally mutter, "Clairey, what are you doing?" and she says, "Spraying your hair." So I'm all, "okay." Then I think about it: "Spraying" my hair? With what? I run my hand through my hair, and it's all wet. Then I hear the noise and something hits me on the hand. The kid is spitting in my hair, then combing it through.

LOVE being a mom.