I find that just being able to shower and comb my hair each day is a huge accomplishment.
Never mind makeup.
Never mind having curled hair; styled hair. Just having it clean each day is a ginormous WOW. I have to wake up at the crack of dawn, though, just to check that off my to-do list. But it's worth it. Now that W has been sleeping almooooost through the night I've been able to get more continuous sleep, waking up earlier isn't such a drag anymore.
I decided that my scraggly, split-end hair needed a trim. I called my "hair lady" and scheduled an appointment. The last time I got my hair cut was when W was still in the clueless, la-la land phase, and everything was hunky-dory when it came to being with other people other than me, The Mamma. I tried to get a friend to watch him, but she was busy. Bummer. Oh well, I thought...I'll just take him with me.
Never. Again. What was I THINKING!?! That's right, I forgot...since being in whacko land I have a hard time thinking straight. I wasn't thinking. I put all common sense in the diaper champ and pitched it into the garbage can.
I pulled up to the salon with my son babbling happily away in the backseat. It seemed like everything was going to be great. My plan was to wheel him in in his umbrella stroller and have him "read" one of his books while I got all primped up.
What a joke! The moment we walked in he started shrieking. Literally shrieking. There are no words for the intense, ear-piercing vocalizations he was making. My stylist had to take the cape off me so I could pick him up from his stroller to comfort him.
But quiet and calm were not on his agenda at the moment. He continued to shriek and scream. After what seemed like a long time, he finally calmed down a bit. Only enough for me to convince the stylist to cut my hair as quickly as she could, before the diatribe continued.
And continue it did. For almost the whole time. Eventually another stylist finished her client's hair cut and she thankfully rescued my son. And saved the rest of the salon from going nutso.
I tipped my stylist generously, and left.
I'm sure all the childless women in there made mental notes to themselves to check the status of their birth control pills!