I made my 10:00am appointment 8 weeks ago. My hair was shredding this morning as I forced it once again into ponytails. It was time.
At 9:41 I got the call from school. Jake threw up.. he actually ran to the bathroom himself and threw up into the toilet. So that's good right? I mean that he knew where to go, and then felt better and sat down in his chair next to his aide.
So now it's 9:42am and I am trying to figure out whether I bag the hair appointment, disappointing myself, all of those who must look at my shredding hair, and of course all of those little hairs themselves who had so been looking forward to living a new life on the floor of the fancy salon.
F*CK! F*ck! I do not want to go pick up Jake right now..in two hours, fine, but NOT RIGHT NOW. and of course then I feel like a total jerk wad, the cruelest mom in the world, because I do not want to miss out on my haircut?! What? Since when does my hair come before my child? Apparently today? Spring break lasted 600 years.
So...I called Pollyanna. No answer on any phone associated with her name.Damn. Damn.
I called Sage. Sage, who works out of her home and would therefore need to stop focusing on her wee little clients to chat with me.. thank goodness she also did not pick up. Damn. Damn. Damn!
Then I got a little bit close to weepy thinking "I have no one." Which is soooooo not true, but you know how it just feels like that on some days, and lately a lot of days for me? Like I am just all alone hanging off a buoy in the middle of the Atlantic? or the Adriatic, but most likely the Pacific, because who really has the money to travel these days anywhooo?
So I called Squid. I called precious Squid who was happily enjoying her first child-free morning in weeks. Like I said spring break lasted 600 years. I called her and (of course) she went and picked up my kid from ALL THE WAY ACROSS TOWN (btw I probably owe her like 6 bucks in gas for that alone). Then she went about her day and when I was done getting my "do" "done". She was patiently waiting at my house with my happy-to-be-home son.
As it turns out, I am not alone. It feels good to not be alone. Also feels great to have had my hair cut...and also, I am quite a bit thankful that Jake did not throw up in Squid's car, and all over Mali.
Thanks Squid. You're the bestest.
p.s. Jake is totally fine and probably threw up due to a double, perhaps triple full-fat milk course this morning, as Mommy and Daddy were both taking care of him and may have given in to the requests separately and sequentially. We normally do no more than 10 ounces of milk at a time, 'cause Mr. Jumpy jump can make his milk shake.. and 30 ounces apparently makes him barf.