I got my haircut.
This might not seem revolutionary or, indeed, blog worthy to anyone else. But for me, momentous.
You see, I have that problem of staying at home with kids all the time and having weekends bursting with requirements and events. So getting a haircut (let’s not talk about my dental care) is something close to a Christmas miracle. It took me 6 reschedules and 4 months to get in to get my hair chopped.
And I did, indeed, chop it.
I love it.
Before I went in to this haircut last week I was feeling pretty down. My attitude was as long, dreary, and split-end as my hair.
Why am I writing? Why am I blogging? I am working so hard for so little reward. I am always needed, always wanted, always something on my never-ending to do list…What’s the point of going so hard? I am going to take my crispy hair and go lay down in bed and watch more Downton Abbey episodes.
Been there? Felt that? Maybe without the Downton Abbey thing?
Then I got on it. I did one measly (albeit heartfelt) post last week here, brokered some pretty big deals and tried to sell product on my Mom in Chapel Hill blog, then promptly dropped the ball on other major responsibilities. I felt bad about it. I was unsuccessful. Then I got on it.
I called my hair salon yet again. (PS- I have their number memorized now. I have the following phone numbers memorized: my parents’ cell phones, my husband’s cell phone, our home number, my pediatrician’s number, my friend from high school’s number from back home (hey BirdDog!), and my hair salon.) I booked their last appointment for the evening and scheduled it IN BOLD on our shared Google calendar.
When the time came I fought every exhausted fiber of my being that wanted to sink in to bed and pulled up to that hair salon.
Forty-five minutes and 4 inches later life was better. I felt lifted, lighter, and confident. I looked professional, modern again (not like a tired mom whose solution was to wear a lot of headbands and hats), and successful.
Yeah, all that from a hair cut. Is that weird?
I walked out of there more like my old self. I felt ready to tackle it all again.
Don’t misunderstand me, friends. This isn’t a complaining post. I am fully aware that every single mother out there feels just as frayed and fried as me. We all feel like we’ve spent way too long on a crimping iron.
But taking that 45 minute break for myself, to take care of myself, helped me turn my frown around/upside down/other cheesy Sesame Street like euphemism.
So here I am. Reaching out on this blog. And I am asking: does your haircut make you feel like a superhero? Or is it just me?