They say pride goes before a fall. Well I must be really proud of my hair, because it's falling. Yes, I have had three other babies. Yes, I have lost hair after each pregnancy. But somehow you never get used to the sight of large clumps of your own hair going down the drain like little escaped hamsters. It's hard to just smile passively when my hairbrush looks like an abstract sculpture of Sasquatch. And every time the baby pulls my hair, he gets a nice fuzzy handful.
I'm reminded of that old Garfield cartoon in which Jon combs him until he has a huge pile of cat hair, and then asks, "What am I supposed to do with all this cat hair?" and Garfield says, "Build another cat?" Maybe I could scrape together all my lost hair and build another mommy. She can take care of the laundry and the cleaning and the cooking while I teach. Yeah, this sounds like a plan.
Speaking of hair, stay tuned for pics of the boys' new haircuts later today, after I seize my computer back from the oldest, who must play Buzz Lightyear the minute he wakes up (it only runs on our computer).
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