I have been sooooo sick, pretty sure it is the bubonic plague or swine flu or some really awful deadly combination of the two.
Husband says it is the sniffles but as he is not technically a licensed physician I am ignoring him and diagnosing myself.
Anyhoo, there is something going through our house and we have all had it to some degree. My eight year old daughter (who keeps reminding me she is actually almost NINE, as her birthday is right away in November...) Meara, has had it the worst and the longest. She is tired also, we had SUCH a blow up over a braid yesterday morning- I am chalking it up to us both being overtired and sick! On Monday night she had a shower and I braided her hair before bed; she stayed home sick on Tuesday and then Wednesday morning she came up for school with her braid looking like it had not been brushed in two days (because it had not!) and a flower clip on the top of her head. So I told her the flower was pretty but I needed to tidy up her braid and I pulled the elastic out. And this ruined her life as the messy, ratty, scruffy braid was the main part of her style and now it was wrecked forever (this is the font that indicates long, drawn out, whining at just the perfect pitch to curdle milk and adequate volume to be heard in neighbouring towns). Thus began the one hour agony that was my morning and let me tell you, there is not enough coffee (with or without Baileys) to fix that. Make it look like it did before; why do you always want me to have the worst day ever in my whole life; I will never have such a good hairstyle for the rest of my entire liiiiiiifffffeeeee. There was shouting and bawling and threats of heads being shaved bald and doors slammed and Meara did some stuff too... Anyway, I got her to school and after eight hours of cooling down we sat down and had a chat. I told her that part of having long hair is taking good care of it and brushing it out every single day. That if she wanted to keep her hair long she needed to stop complaining and fussing when I brushed the tangles out for her. That going to school looking like a homeless person was not acceptable. That I was sick and tired of having this talk every day and I was putting my foot down and she needed to shape up or get it CUT OFF! I also told her that I had made an appointment with a hairdresser in a fancy shop and on Friday morning we were going on a date and she could get her hair cut any way she liked AND even get a couple of blonde streaks put in for a very special treat (of course hoping that the stylist will encourage her to lose some length and maybe get some layers cut in...) and she looks at me and says "That will be so fun mom, I have ALWAYS wanted to get streaks in my hair but I can only get wash out ones and I just want the ends trimmed a tiny bit, ok?" So I said that would be ok (while hoping the stylist can convince her otherwise...) and I asked why she was being so darn stubborn about this whole hair thing- we have been battling over it off and on for over a year! So Meara looks up at me with her beautiful big eyes and says "It is kind of a secret that I did not want to tell anyone but I am growing my hair as long as I can so that I can cut it off and GIVE IT TO KIDS WHO HAVE CANCER".