Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl

Many of you are familiar with my concern's about A.'s hair. (I should probably spend more time worrying about mine than hers, considering mine hasn't been cut in nearly 8 months. My head is like one giant split end...in so many ways.) She's been rockin' a pretty righteous mullet for a while now, so we've (ok, just I) been waiting with baited breath for some beautiful locks to spout out of the top of her head. Every time I'd look at her, I'd have visions of finding some magic lever in her back that I'd pump up and down and hair would just starting spewing out...like with those Play Doh barber shop men.

Well, I don't know what happened, but it's all finally coming together now. Slowly but surely she's moving away from The Achy Breaky and heading straight for The Heartbreaker. But for me, it's really less about her looking like a little girl and more about being able to fashion some really great shampoo 'dos in the bathtub. There's something so wonderful about being able to make your baby look like she's about to put a diaper pin through her little nose, start spewing milk at you, and begin chanting, "London Bridge is falling down!! Oi! Oi! Oi!"

But with all the happiness that comes with making your one-year-old baby look like Sid Vicious comes the startling realization of how much soap scum a camera flash can illuminate on your yellow bathroom tile. I really, really missed some spots. Looking at these bathtime photos made me feel like I was in one of the 20/20 exposes where they take black lights into hotel rooms and show you the many reasons why I now travel with Lysol, my own pillows, and a prayer. I guess it's time to reevaulate my cleaning techniques...a comment to which I fear my dearly beloved will reply, "What cleaning techniques?" I wonder if J. ever comes home to our unkempt home, which I quit my day job to kempt, and hears a little voice inside his head, "Do you ever get the feeling you've been cheated???" To which punk rock baby and I reply:

Oi! Oi! Oi!