I kept the kids busy for a bit before I started to work on my hair and I had literally just finished and was about to lay on a good shellac of hairspray when the phone rang. It was my sweet husband, calling to say that there was a situation at work and we weren't going to be able to go out tonight after all. Despite his reassurances that it's all good to go for tomorrow night instead, I couldn't help but sit on the edge of the tub and cry my little preggo eyes out. Never the less, my hair looks good and I want photographic evidence of it.
Those stinkin' french twists are tougher than they look! I'm sure it doesn't help that I haven't really had hair long enough to do one in YEARS so it's completely foreign to me.
My husband has no clue when he'll be able to get home. I'm going to guess it'll be after the kids go to bed, so I need to get some sort of dinner going now that it's 7pm.