You may remember this post (probably not) from 2.5 years ago, in which my mom told me flat out that parenting is a sacrificial time of life and you just have to be selfless. When you are caring for the needs of another little human or two (or five, in her case), sometimes your own needs just have to take a back burner.
Thursday afternoon I found myself pouting and being selfish rather than selfless. Like legitimately throwing a silent toddler fit inside.
About my hair.
You see, I finally made an appointment to chop off my scraggly long-ish hair that I had been wanting gone since March. I decided to take real time off for an appointment and fork over real money for a real haircut this time instead of getting a $12 chop job on a lunch break. I was in love with the results and the prospect of going about the rest of my day looking stylish and put together.
Then I left work a little later to pick up Sister from daycare and take her to her 9 month checkup. In the rain. No, not just rain, but rather a downpour of epic proportions. (I put a blanket over the car seat. Sister remained safe and dry in there.)
Not only did my styled hair immediately flop but it turned into a soggy, sad mess of hair product and frizz. The lovely turned-under ends flipped all different which ways, the part decided to part ways with its logical location and the volume that the hairdresser somehow found flew away along with my glee.
After returning a healthy 9 month old to daycare, I returned myself to my office looking a mess.
And I was sad. Weirdly, noticeably, selfishly sad. Quite frankly, I was mourning the loss of my expensive hairdo. I kind of wanted to shake my fist in the general direction of parenting and holler "I just wanted to have one nice thing for myself for a few hours!" But newsflash, toting a baby car seat through the rain will indeed fry your froofy expensive hairdo.
And it's ok. I got over it. It stopped raining long enough for me to get both kids home from daycare later without us all getting soaked. I threw my sad hair into a stubby ponytail when we got home. I'll file this one under "Sigh...oh well" along with throw up on my Converse, snot on my shoulder and peanut butter in my watch band.
It happens. It's all good.