Thursday, July 25, 2013: Voices From the Deep.

Dear Babies,

(Cue Britney Spears)

Oops, I did it again…I said ‘yeah whatever’ at the hair salon and ended up getting a single process and  a full head of highlights when all I really wanted was to just lighten up the front a bit and now I’ve been here four hours already the whole time thinking I have to pee and no thanks I don’t want any water and crap how much is this going to cost and please don’t you come over here too oh crap another assistant who I now have to tip for a freakin’ blow out I don’t even want because I’m just going to throw it back in a ponytail the second I get out of here anyway…

Sigh.

So, I’m at the hair salon, and the woman next to me gets asked how she’s doing and she exclaims (with actual exclamation) good! She just got back from vacation in Aruba and went scuba diving and saw an octopus and she touched a star fish and the food was delicious and her daughter had the best time…

“How are you?” One of the seven hundred well-coiffed assistants asks me, her lips as pink and puffed as a blow-up doll’s.

“Good,” I say, with paper-thin exclamation. What would I say? I haven’t showered in two days. This new paraben free deodorant I’m using really “stinks” (har, har, har). I’m on an anti-paraben and phthalate war yet, thanks to potty training, I swaddle myself with Clorox wipes on an hourly basis, so is it really worth burning my armpits with this crunchy stuff?

(What would blow-up-doll hair assistant say to that?: Riveting? Thanks for sharing?)

I’m going on vacation tomorrow. Relax, with you guys. And your dad. And your cousin. And my in-laws. I’m not staying at a resort, but in a two-bedroom condo with a kitchen which means at some point, there will still be dishes. (Which reminds me, I should bring a sponge.) I’m not getting a pedicure later. Buying new “fun” cover-ups and bikinis. I’m buying Goldfish, the Pepperidge Farm kind. And juice boxes. And I can’t forget the guardrails! And the travel potties. And oh yeah, the Clorox wipes.

At the hair salon, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror looking like Medusa with a head full of foils. I looked down, for who wants to sit and look at themselves in the mirror like that? (*Unless you’re a different type of person). I imagined myself underwater, alone, nothing but that thick gurgling around me. The warmth. The salt. I imagined an octopus floating into view. Purple, like the always are in your board books. (Why?) Or maybe big and limby like the one from “Popeye…”

Unknown

Either way, I have no desire to be face-to-face with such a creature.

I can’t wait for our vacation this weekend.

(I have to remember to bring the nightlight owl and the bug spray, too.)

While my communication skills may be lousy–“the blow out is perfect, thank you”–at least the voices in my head are loud and clear.

Be back Tuesday.

Love,

Mom

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