This week was a pretty rough week to be a mom. Mom-wise, had I been measured on my performance over the last seven days, I would have fallen somewhere between “raging wreck” and “why bother?”
Having recently moved into a job that temporarily involves an 1.5 hour commute on both ends, the routine at home has taken a slight shift. And by slight shift, I mean its been whacked over the head and dragged through the streets of suburbia all the way into downtown Toronto.
Last week, despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t do anything right. Thanks to traffic, I was up and out of the house by 6:20am, leaving work at 4pm and barely pulling in before 6pm to pick up my daughter from daycare. I was too tired at night to prep dinner for the following days which meant leftovers, frozen dinners and one spontaneous pizza night which followed my being $8 late to pick up my daughter form daycare. Sorry, I meant 4 minutes late but since they charge lagging parents by the minute, it’s practically the same thing. Continue reading “We All Need That Mom In Our Village”→
Forget the fact that I spent an hour on my hair, 20 minutes on my makeup, 30 minutes picking out an outfit and another 10 minutes changing until finally satisfied with the get-up de soir – this guy chose to focus on the one attribute I was actually trying to play down; my height.
No pun intended, my appreciation for heels has definitely hit its highs and lows. I kid you not, more than once, some guy strolled up to me in the bar and stared in awe, mumbling on about how tall I am – as if, by some miracle, this fact hadn’t formerly been brought to my attention. Now, the staring in awe part I didn’t mind so much, and more often than not this line was just an unfortunate – and unsuccessful – effort to pick me up (not literally – thank god), but once in a while I would come across someone who would decide to point it out – just for fun, and those were the times that as a woman pushing 6 feet, I wished I could cut myself off at the ankles and just blend in.
Okay guys (specifically followers of the male sex) – you may think that because this is a blog about my visit to the hair salon that there’s nothing in it for you. Well, you’re 99% right but if you’re interested in learning more about your women, then congrats, you are one of the 1% who will benefit should you decide to keep reading. Why? Because having one’s hair done is an experience which can, for a woman, redefine who she is and act as the universal remedy (albeit, temporary) to any ailment, stress or disappointment she may endure. Think this is illogical? Think again. For many women, our happiness is largely connected with being at ease with our sense of identity; the collective aspect of the set of characteristics by which a thing is definitively recognizable or known (thank you dictionary.com). In layman’s terms : it’s who we are (or strive to be) on the inside, and who we appear to be on the outside, and thus how we are generally perceived by those around us.