I dyed my hair red. Bad red. Shitty, fake-looking, clown red. It made sense in theory, is awful in practice, and, should the appointment-making gods smile on me, will be gone by this time next week. We will not speak of this again. Dammit.
O.K.! Mother's Day!
Slept in. Family snuggles. Breakfast. Massage. Wine. Tacos. Presents. Mariner's game. Sad toddler. Happy toddler. Home. Wine. Take out Chinese. Wine. Black Swan. Wine. Books. Bed.
I was happy because I couldn't see myself. She was quietly freaking out at the crowds, noise, and Mama's hair.
Liv hadn't mooshed abrasions into my face in a long time. She did today. Plus, she's strong now, and my neck still hurts from counterbalancing against the pressure of her desperate, burrowing snuggles.
So we plied her with french fries with lots of tipsip (catsup) and her first diet Pepsi...
... then took her to the playground, bought her a Mariners bear, and found her smile. She spent the rest of the game screaming, clapping, dancing, and randomly spouting "YAY, MARNERRS!" and "ICHIWO!"
Ergo = (forced snuggles - face abrasions) = AWESOME!
Happy Mother's Day! Love, Little Biscuit and Big Red