Because it's been a while...

since I bloggily complained about my hair. Bloggily is a word, right? It is now! Hashtag that. #bloggily

Anyway, welcome to 2016. The weather is brisk and smoggy.

Back to my hair. Those of you who follow me on Instagram are lucky enough to get a play-by-play of my hair's issues/adventures. There was this one day a week or two ago when it was amazing.

I mean, this is the kind of stuff my hair dreams are made of. Shiny, somehow magically hiding my severe root situation... actually looking good in a desperately-trying-to-avoid-the-baby-pulling-it-all-out updo... yes. (Can we just also notice my teeth and eyebrows? And skin? Can this be my new license picture??)

But in reality, within a few hours it was this: 

Now maybe this doesn't look so bad, but it was. I was like the sad matted puppy in that ASPA ad. I can literally hear Sarah McLachlan right now. Ugh it hurts just to look at it. And this is normal for me! Almost every night I find a dreadlock or two hiding in the depths of my hair. I have a ton of fine hair. So I'm never going to look like Kate Beckinsale, but I'm also never going to be Gary Busey so it's sort of okay whatever. For some twisted reason only a middle child younger sister can understand, my sister's favorite memory of me is of my matted, dreading hair at a bowling party in like fifth grade. This was right before I chopped it off. And THAT was right before hormones took over and my hair refused to ever grow again. Yay...

Well obviously it grew again because look how long it was in the picture way up top! Lovely. But painful. Pretty for like an hour if I was lucky and alone, but really just being tugged at all day and matted by my clothes... It wasn't worth it, you know? And it wasn't healthy. It was dead and it was dragging me down.

So half a bottle of wine later:

Ignore the shower. Apparently the previous tenant ran an underground nursing home out of this bathroom. Also ignore my chin zit. Of course you probably didn't even notice it until I said that... ummm.... Bra? 

Okay anyway so I chopped my hair off and obviously did an AMAZING job. (Chad literally said "it's super even" and then walked away laughing hysterically when he saw it) But I don't care. It's soft! The bleached, dead, stringy and tangled ends are gone! And so is 2015 because if I can just squeeze this into half a paragraph: 2015 sucked. I had a baby and like a record-breaking labor and delivery of said baby and she is amazing and her sister is amazing and I discovered nursing bras FINALLY and got to be in the most amazing wedding ever (more on that later), and yadda yadda yadda, but overall the year sucked and that's all I'm going to say about it. 

Welcome to 2016. My hair is short, as are the days. Sriracha is on the menu and I haven't seen my floor in weeks. I'm so glad to have you here. 

#bloggily yours,

Katrina

essentially homeless...

Where did I go, you ask? Oh, just to my corner of the cardboard box.

That's not really true. While we are technically homeless right now due to the unexpected dramatic suicide of the air conditioning unit at our former apartment, we are actually living quite comfortably in a guest house up the mountain from where we lived before.

It's cozy. Like "700 sq ft" (we're guessing more like 400-500 sq ft) cozy. But we're small people and the yard is big and the mansion on the other side of the yard is generally open to visitors, so we're happy.

But we still don't have a home, you know? And that's stressful. It's hard to feel like a good parent when you can't provide a proper home for your kids, and really hard to explain to your three year old why you're moving again for the second time in five months and why she probably won't see her new friends at the complex again. And sometimes she decides to protest by reverting back to a naughty puppy who pees all over the place. And I don't know about you, but when I feel like a crappy parent I start to feel like I'm failing as a wife and then the whole infrastructure of our family just goes to shit. I mean hell. I mean... gah.

Anyway, we should have internet tomorrow. For now I am able to get it up at the main house, but my computer is almost always hijacked for Wild Kratts so blogging gets put on the back burner.

Which reminds me, we don't even have a stove in this guest house! But you know what that has taught me? Trader Joes frozen vegan burritos are the bomb. And you can totally justify eating chips and salsa for breakfast as long as you've already had your coffee and maybe a piece of fruit.

So there you have it: the reason for my absence.

Here's a picture of my cute threenager to make the post seem legit:

Sleep Deprivation-Inspired Haikus

This is what you get
when I write a sleep haiku.
hey, it's not half bad.

...

Sleep is for the weak
And I have spaghetti arms.
I'm going to bed.

...

One Two Three Four Five
One Two Three Four Five Six Sev
One Two Three Four Five

...

Time to go to bed.
But the bedroom is so far.
Time to go to couch.

So typical...

I have two sick kiddos, one of whom is teething, and the walls of our rental all flooded with backed up air conditioning condensation and are going to have to be cut out and rebuilt, which might mean we have to move out... so I've decided to push the launch back another day.

Thus is life.

And until then, this is cute:

Caturday

I told myself I wouldn't blog on weekends, but then I also told myself I would blog every weekday so... yeah. Here we are.

Caturday is a ridiculous concept but that's what you get when I blog on the weekends.

This illustration (by Gemma Correll) sort of sums up my life perfectly. Now, if the scribbed cat also had a flabby belly and disproportionately toned shoulders from carrying babies (in every sense of the word) we would be set. 

Happy weekend, meow. 

Karate Rap (Countdown to blog launch!)

Hi guys!

So I'm just going to skip the profound thoughts and introspections and promises to make this blog remarkable and life-changing for all of us and just give you this little video to set the bar super low.