There’s nothing like a forthcoming weekend working a booth at a Baby Expo to make you focus on just how bad your hair looks.
On inspection I noticed that my grey strands were no longer strands. They’d become clumps so this morning was spent colouring and cutting.
And it felt really good having some much-needed upkeep. A couple hours of indulgence with lots of time left to finish my errands. Sweet.
With three o’clock approaching I left to get Jackson from school. I entered the play area with my internal soundtrack blasting. The little bit of pampering had added an extra bounce to my step: I was shakin’ my hips like yeah . (I hate it when I get Miley stuck in my head)
Although school pick-up comes too early most days, it’s still always my favourite part of the day. Jackson doesn’t come running out greeting me with hugs anymore but he still beams when he sees me and always wraps his free arm around me.
The doors flew open just moments after my arrival and out poured the wave of children. Jack walked towards me and with a smile said “you got your hair cut.”
“I don’t like it”
My soundtrack faded to the background as I rubbed his head “Oh, it’ll grow out buddy”
“That looks disgusting”
There was a loud screech as the DJ scratched the needle across the record silencing my song. I stopped noddin’ my head like yeah.
With a wave of his hand in front of his nose he giggled and said ‘It stinks mom. Ohhh, I do not like that’
I’ve often doubted whether I’m mature enough to raise two children. Today I confirmed that I’m not. A five-year old was sticking sharp pins in my esteem and all I wanted to do was stick my tongue out and call him a Stupidhead.
I walked away. Jack asked me to carry his backpack. I didn’t. He followed a few steps behind me sensing something had gone awry.
His footsteps stopped and I heard him yell out for all to hear “Mom! I’m allowed to not like your haircut. It doesn’t look nice”
My rainbow of balloons, that had been flying high all day, popped one by one and like any mature 7-year-old I replied: ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all”.
Oh sure, I’ll be strong and not go into hiding for the next 6 to 8 weeks. The show must go on.
The kids slept through our long drive to Hamilton tonight and Justin helped me get some sexy back. I’m still fragile though. If anyone visiting my booth thinks it might be funny to wave their hand in front of their nose…I’ll charge you double.
Ah, but the first person to visit booth 47 who wants to throw their hands up like I’m playing their song, well, you my friend will get a free Alphabet poster.