My children got a haircut today.
And for the first time, I didn't freak.
I didn't pass out.
I didn't hyperventilate.
I didn't throw a tantrum.
I didn't even place a voodoo curse over the stylist after I returned home.
Instead, I tipped her.
Can you imagine? Me?
The same mom who used to shed a tear with every strand of hair that fell to the floor? The same mom who would spend weeks researching haircuts, salons and stylists? The same mom who still cringes, just a little, whenever she hears the familiar click and whirr of the razor?
Yes, its true. It's really me. Be proud, dear reader[s]. I've turned a really big corner.
Or maybe rolled a really big roller? No. That's not even funny....