Hey, okay so I'm here to provide an update on a few things that I previously kind of left hanging. And not in a cliff-hanger kind of way, because I'm not that clever, but more in a whoops, I forgot a few details way.

The Pre-30 Pink Hair:
I realize now that I neglected to mention that the real problem with the pink hair was that it really just didn't show up. That was the worst of it but I'm a champion over-reacter, so you can see how things quickly escalated. It just made my hair look kind of orange and not at all pinky. So, I shrugged my shoulders and tried to forget about it.

But I didn't. I've been staring longingly at pictures of rose-y hued hair on Instagram and Pinterest, um, probably every day.  So, I'm back at it, and currently light light light pink, but I remain unsatisfied. There is a tab open on my browkser right now with various pink dye reviews at the ready.

The No-Bite Nail Polish:
This is one is actually pretty fresh in terms of details, because I never actually told this story. Here's the synopsis: I use nasty No Bite nail polish because I have no self control, especially lately and it's the only thing keeping me from gleefully chewing off my fingernails. Yum yum delish. Anyway, like a ding-dong, I left the bottle on my desk and guess which little turkey with a surprising set of motor skills found it?

Now, this stuff is nasty. I like it because it is so horrible, I literally can't chew my nails when I have it painted on. Like, the flavor is so bad and so saturated, that even if I touch my mouth, it leaves the taste on my lips. Usually one coat and I'm good. Now Dukers, he spilled the entire damn bottle on my desk and proceeded to play with it in the .00002 seconds I had my head turned. Bad news, that was long enough. Worse news, I couldn't get the taste off his hands for anything. So, everything he touched tasted bad, all  the food he tried to feed himself tasted bad. My baby cried and wouldn't eat anything for an entire day.

When I got home from work, I plunked him in the sink and just scrubbed his sad little fingers with dish soap, and luckily it seemed to work. As soon as he realized he could feed himself again, he was back to his regular little self. So alls well that ends well, I guess.

The Baby Smeared in Poop Fiasco:
This one's easy. He's not allowed to be left unsupervised in his bedroom ever again. Done. And when he can't be afforded privacy in his own bedroom when he's 17 years old, I'll be delighted to regale him with the story of why.

I did buy him a potty seat and a stool this week. He recently developed a little bit of an interest in going pee outside which I would like to translate into an indoor activity. Anyway, it's going well! Far better than I would have anticipated. We have several daily "target practices" and the great reward is that he gets to flush the toilet. He is also an aggressive over-user of toilet paper, but I like to pick my battles.

***

So yesterday was Ryan's and my five year anniversary. Man, five years goes by pretty fast --- time flies when you're having fun, as they say.
Four dogs. Three cities. A kid. A house. A million motorcycles. A few jobs. All my shoes. A couple of fights. A lot of laughs.  Pretty cliche, because not every day is easy, but I'm always glad to wake up next to him and be us against everything else together.

Happy weekending, folks! My the hours last forever.