It's Friday, Friday!

Whenever I don't wash my hair I run into someone I know.

Then I wish I would have washed my hair.

And then I think about how I wake up most days realizing there is no way I have time to wash my hair that day.

Then the days I do have time to wash it, I'm home and don't go anywhere.

It's a viscous cycle folks.

Just remember that when you don't see my out in public, I am at home and my hair is seriously spectacular.

Speaking of people with crazy hair, Lily has taken to sleeping at night with her shoes on.

Oh my crap, do her feet stink in the mornin'.

Which reminds me, my favorite sneakers are staring to smell.

And there's no way it's my feet that are causing it.

Because, obviously, I don't have stinky feet.

And I don't snore.

And I totally have self control when I bake a batch of cookies.

And I sing the Friday song every Friday morning just so my kids know what day it is.

Which has nothing to do with dirty hair and stinky feet. It's just that good (or bad) of a song.

And Lily has a toy doll which she has named Momma B after my sister, and she carries it around all day and asks for her second mother.

And my sister lives a block away and her church ward (as of last month) had around eighty women that were pregnant.

We don't have that many prego women in my ward.

What we have instead is the title for how many times the police frequent our streets.

Yesterday it involved a man walkin' around in his skivvies.

I'm just going be honest, I don't have to cook meals for guys walkin' around in their whitie tighties, so I don't feel so bad about not being the ward with lots of babies.

Plus we walk around pushing chickens in strollers, so maybe random man is his underwear is just misunderstood.

Or really, really creepy.


It's a toss up.

And just so ya know, my sister is not pregnant.

But needs to be.

But it's totally not my business.

(If I were a complete stranger.)

(Which I am not.)

So she shouldn't.

But she should.

Soon.

Or later. Babies are hard.

And squishy and warm and smell good.

And I will totally rock and feed and help and hold him/her.

So tell her she should.

But you didn't hear it from me, of course.

'Cause it's not a sister's business.

Especially when it's an older and wiser and blonder sister.

Yeah, totally not my call.

I'll just hang on to these adorably soft and snugly baby booties I bought a few days ago...