capricious

Ahhhhh! Spring! Green grass! Birdies chirping! Capri pants!

Defendant's exhibit #1 - Hair Drama

Older daughter's hair, according to professional opinion, needs to be washed every other day, and combed through every single day. She knows this, yet she does her darndest to do everything BUT comb her hair. Yesterday morning, we are getting ready to go to church and the drama-fest begins.

The older daughter's technique is to take one section of hair, close to her face, and comb that once section over and over and over and over and over again. Then she will pronounce that she is done combing her hair.

Then there are the tears. And the complaints. My arm is tired! whine whine whine I can't keep combing through my hair! whine whine whine My arm is exhausted! whine whine whine

Meanwhile, I am attempting to pull my fabulous self together for church. Hey, I have an image! And the Pastor is trying to figure out what it is he is going to say when he preaches.

Finally, after 50 minutes, several tearful outbursts, much use of the whiny voice, the hair was combed through. Or was it? A check revealed the back had not been touched. OK, there, we've got it. Exhale deeply.

We get in the car and head to church.

Defendant's exhibit #2 - Seat Belt Drama

Me, to Loretta (that's what I call the younger daughter): Put your seat belt on! (Mind you, we are already driving, and it's not as though the fact that we have to wear our seatbelt is a new revelation.)

Loretta fastens the seat belt. I turn around a few minutes later, and sure enough! She's got it off!

Me to Loretta: Loretta, I JUST TOLD YOU to put your selt belt on, whydidyoutakeitoff?

Loretta: Uhhhhhhh, because THAT'S what I do when I'm with my Pa-Paw. I don't LIKE wearing my seat belt because it chokes me.

Me, to Loretta: Well, I don't care what you do when you are with your Pa-Paw. Now, you are with me and when you are with me you wear your seat belt!

(uhhhhh, not to mention, it's the law!)

The defense rests.

So after the high dramatics, all before Sunday worship, after church the girls corner the Pastor and lodge the following complaint:

Robyn is bossy!

Did you get that? Robyn is bossy!

We get home. The Pastor tells me this. Why, oh why oh why? I say to the Pastor, watch this! We call the girls into the room and I make the following speech:

Hey girls. Your dad mentioned to me that you find me bossy. Well I just wanted to let you know that I DON'T CARE. I don't care if you think I'm bossy. I am here to help your dad, and I am here to raise responsible citizens who have nice manners and are pleasant to be around and I just really don't care if you think I'm bossy or not! OK, I'm going shopping now. Bye!

From the jury box, to the soap box. I'm on my sassy horse today people!
Am I bossy? Absolutely! Do I have feelings? Absolutely! But really, I don't care if they find me bossy. If I'm going to hang around kids, they are going to know how to comb their hair and chew with their mouths shut and wipe their own butts. Thankyouverymuch.

***

The Pastor totally does not care about weight, which is yet another way that he is the perfect man. However, that means he totally doesn't understand MY WEIGHT. But to all who want to celebrate with me, I lost 3.5 pounds last week. Yipppppeeee! And that was during my "heavy" week of the month! (I'm toning it down here just for you Mom!) : ) And and and and and I have been a good girl, getting on that treadmill every day and have changed my drink order at Starbucks from a Venti to a Tall.

Gotta fit in those capri pants.