Transcendental Meditation in a Salon

Don't worry... this won't be scandalous like the last time I had the urge to write a post in the salon. (you can read that HERE)

I had a two-part revelation yesterday as I sat in the salon, hair matted with dye and timer running:

All stages of a woman's life are represented right there in the salon.

AND:

At different ages, we want/need different things.

I know, this isn't ground-breaking. And maybe this revelation doesn't help me in anyway, but I think, perhaps, the shampoo girl could benefit from reading this.

I watched as the twenty-somethings were washed. They chatted about their lives/relationships/college/ jobs. Members of a common team (the young twenty-somethings), they shared and bonded over boyfriends, breakups, awful term papers and foil highlights.

I noticed that the "over 50" women, enjoyed chatting about their kids- grown or teenagers, their grandkids if they had them and their lives. They were busy with jobs, teens, extra-curriculars, kids in college and some of them, grandchildren. Again, the salon appeared to be a social experience they appeared to look forward to.

The "over 70" women, just loved to talk. About anything. They are a chatty lot. And an opinionated one. They are also pretty darned funny! It occurred to me that perhaps they live alone, or with their elderly husbands, and just long to get out of the house and have someone to talk with- even if it is a nineteen-year-old shampoo girl. They seem to enjoy that social connection and will strike up a conversation with anyone around them.

And then there's me- mother of (relatively) small children. My children are constantly talking, requiring/demanding things and attention from me. While, in my early twenties, I enjoyed the social aspect of the salon visit, it is now quiet that I crave. I enjoy catching up with my stylist and hearing about her life and updating her on my family. But, what I am really looking forward to is my thirty minutes in heaven- the place where everyone with color sits until they are done processing. I grab a magazine and read, uninterrupted. I read through my emails on my phone, actually catch up with my Words with Friends queue and sometimes read through my Kindle app on my phone. (because I am too scatterbrained when I leave the house to remember to bring the ACTUAL Kindle with me)

When my thirty minutes are up, I am called over to the sink to be washed. The shampoo girl and I exchange pleasantries, and that is where I want it to end. I want to lie my head back in the sink and enjoy the simple little pleasure of having someone wash my hair while I close my eyes and rest. Please don't talk to me. People are talking to and at me all day. When I wash my hair at home, I run a 90% chance that someone is going to either barge in with, "Sorry, Mommy, but I have to poop!" or a tale of how one child has been wronged by their sibling. Even when I remember to lock the door, I get banging on the door, shouting,miniature fingers wriggling under the door and various forms of, "Mommy! Noah won't let me....." and "Mommy! Zoe won't stop....".

Really- two to three minutes of silence while you wash my hair is all that I ask.

And I know that one day, my children won't be so needy and I will miss that about them. At that point, I will again crave the conversation of the random shampoo girl at the salon, but until then...

Take note of the social cues I am sending you. Notice the battle-weary lines and dark circles that encircle my eyes as well as the glazed over look in them. Observe the smears and stains on my shirt and pants from dirty little hands always touching me. And then, please, let me be.

Because one day, all too soon, I will be in the chair next to you eagerly wanting to tell you how my kids are grown and how much I miss having little ones around. But I will notice these things about you, and I promise- I will cast a knowing smile your way and lie back and have my hair washed in silence- so that you can enjoy it.

Sisterhood of the Expanding Pants

Back in 2005, I bought what will probably go down in history as my favorite pair of jeans. Ever. Yes, it really was THAT dramatic. I got them at American Eagle and they fit perfectly, were comfortable and I looked great in them. I loved them so much that I wore them to their death.

Five years is a long time to withstand what I put those jeans through. About a year and a half ago, they developed a hole in the knee. That just made them even more awesome and I continued to wear them. About six months ago, the denim around the back pocket started wearing really thin. They made it a few more months until they broke down and the pocket and the pants began parting like the Red Sea. It was time to let them go. I mourned their passing by wearing yoga pants- defiant at buying a new pair of awesome jeans for fear it would disrespect the memory of the AE jeans.

I believe I am beginning to heal, because deep within my soul, stirs the desire for a new pair of fabulous jeans. The desire comes and goes but tonight, when a covert Halloween costume mission brought me to the mall, I finally felt I was ready. I walked into American Eagle.

Lining the wall were various washes and cuts of "skinny jeans." I began to pout.

"Can I help you?" the skinny, young sales girl that was probably in middle school when I bought my last pair of AE jeans asked.

"Um, er, I'm just looking at the jeans."

[sweet smile]

"Any ones in particular?"

"No, I'm just looking right now, thanks."

I scan the wall in front of me and see that they are all skinny jeans. I walk to the next wall which is displaying "slim boot cut jeans".

"Hi there! Is there anything particular you are looking for?" another slightly-older but still twenty-something salesgirl asked.

"Well, yes. I had a pair of AE jeans that I wore until they literally came apart at the seams and I was looking for another pair. They were not skinny jeans. They were just regular jeans."

"Well by 'regular jeans' I'm not sure what you mean because they all have a name. Were they perhaps The Boyfriend Jean?"

[blank stare]

" I don't know what they were called. They had a classic fit, snug in the thighs, mid-rise and slight boot cut."

"Ohhhhhh..... how long ago was this? Because we had the original but have discontinued making them. I suggest you try these slim jeans, though. Don't let the name 'slim' scare you. They fit really well."

I grabbed two different sizes in that pair and proceeded to the dressing room to try them on. I will spare you the details, but one pair did fit. They even looked pretty good with my longer tee. That is, until, I had to bend or squat at which point anyone within twenty feet of me would get way more than they bargained for in the form of a clear view of all that God gave me. In other words, they were pretty low-rise. And, when you are a mom, bending and squatting tends to come up on occasion.

I walked out of the dressing room where older (and by older I mean this one was possibly of drinking age, but still far younger than myself) salesgirl was waiting on me with a hopeful look. I shook my head and told her the rise was too low. She took the jeans and said, " Those are the highest rise we have..."

[WOW]

"... Perhaps you can try The Gap. They still carry their classic jean."

Embarrassed, I walked out making a bee-line for the mall exit with no intention of stopping by The Gap or any other store.

As I headed out of the store, I heard salesgirl #1- the younger one- say, "Sorry about that. Have a great night!" chirpily. I glanced over my shoulder at her to bid her farewell, and I noticed she had that look on her face.

Pity.

She was smiling, but it was a pity smile. She was pitying me for having that awkward mom shape and for walking my old, uncool badonk-a-donk into her store.

I hurried out the nearest exit to my awaiting mini-van, cranked up the Springsteen and made a mental note that perhaps I should be on the lookout for these...

{Saturday Night Live Mom Jeans}

...and that in the future, I should remember that, from this day forward, AE is dead to me.

How to Drive Mommy Crazy Before 1pm or All in a Day's Work

When I read Mama Kat's list of prompts and saw prompt #2: "Tell us about a day you were sure you wouldn't get through.", several things popped into my mind. Most of them serious and since my last few Writer's Workshop posts have been all serious, I felt I needed funny. And then I was brought back to a particular day I really thought would never end. Of course I already blogged about it, but since the beginning of the school year/soccer season has really made me hit the ground running with little time for much else, I thought this was the perfect time to revisit an old post.

Picture it: a small house in the Jersey woods, occupied by an awesome mom who never ever loses her cool, two children- a six-year-old and a two-year-old just trying to get through the dog days of summer. It was back in August 2009 and my daughter felt I needed to earn my keep (while simultaneously losing my sanity) around the house.

Here is how today has gone so far:

Noah was in the bathroom doing his business when he yelled at me that Zoe had taken the little insert out of her potty and thrown it in the big toilet WHILE he was peeing, then got it out with pee in it and dumped it all over the floor.( I figured I would spare you and not take a photo of this) I cleaned the little potty, the toilet and mopped the bathroom floor up. As I was walking from the bathroom into the laundry room to put the washcloth I used and the bathroom rug in the washer I encountered this in the kitchen:


I had previously folded laundry and left it in the basket and Zoe had gone through the basket and picked out my underwear and put them on! There was a nice mess in the living room from the laundry basket too. I finished putting the rug and a load of towels in the washer and went into the living room to re-fold the clothes and put them back in the laundry basket. I did wonder what that was on her face, but she's a messy kid so I brushed it aside.

Meanwhile, Noah yelled at me from his room that Zoe was up on his bed and wouldn't get down. Noah has a loft bed and I am afraid Zoe will fall off it, so I went in his room to get her down. As I picked her up, I felt something like rocks in her diaper. I had no clue what it was, so I decided to inspect and found this:

That is leftover Easter candy that I had put up in a drawer in my room. This meant Zoe had been in my room and I suspected she had eaten some of the candy explaining what was on her mouth earlier ( chocolate). I guess she decided to stash a few pieces in case I took it away from her.

So.. I decided I need to go inspect my room and found this:

Notice the partial wrapper off to the side. That would be because my little billy goat was eating them with the wrappers ON them..... I also found this in my bed:

I had to change my sheets on my bed because there were drooly chocolate stains all over them. As I was heading to the laundry room again, I found this lying in the hallway:

That would be a catalog that she had torn and EATEN the edge off of. I picked it up and went to put it back in the magazine rack and now we'd gone full circle because I found Zoe in the laundry again



And when the last picture was taken, it was only one o'clock.

**NOTE: It took me awhile to post this because I was playing referee between Zoe and Noah. As I was completing the upload of pictures, I realized it had been really quiet and got nervous. I went to find Zoe to see what she was into this time. I couldn't find her anywhere in the house. I started getting nervous and then I walked into her room ( the one place she doesn't go because she is ALLOWED in there!) to find this:

She climbed in her crib by herself and went to sleep. I guess she had a busy morning and needed to recharge her batteries to wreak havoc this afternoon. (and note the tiny bit of hot pink you can see around her left leg... that's my underwear again)