Oh, for the days when the most crucial part of my day was getting my hair right.
Cole is teething (or being taken over by alien beings who just like to scream and cry nonstop).
He has his two front bottom teeth, one upper front one (yes, I know there are more technical names for these, but they escape me at the moment), and—hello! The second front tooth has poked his little toothie self through.
Miss Genny is still in a phase. You know, the kind where she tells me to shut up.
My nerves? Fried. My hair? Horrible.
If I don’t get some peace, quiet, and sleep soon, this Saturday I will look like I’m going to my fiftieth high school reunion instead of my twentieth.