Time for a change

I have long hair.  I haven't had it cut since the summer and even then it was just a trim.  Before that, my last cut was in January.  I don't necessarily recommend this strategy - it's been adopted out of necessity because getting my hair cut with Henry in tow (or all three kids even) is very unappealing.

My hair has been very long for at least two years now.  And it's time for a change.  Later this morning I am going to a salon SANS LES ENFANTS and getting partial highlights, a cut and style (thank-you Groupon).  I am drooling at the thought of being pampered for two hours.

The Before:

The After: (warning... this post gets really whiny and pathetic from here on in)

Why doesn't my hair look post-salonish?  Why do I look so glum?  Well, let me tell you...

As I was pulling onto the street where I planned to park right near the hair salon, my phone rang.  It was the school telling me that Emily was in the office feeling unwell and a bit warm and could I come and get her.

We have one car and one cell phone between us.  On the cell phone front, dumb.... I know.

So, I parked, emailed John and headed toward the salon.  I talked to the stylist about my predicament.  He told me he had no appointments for the rest of the day, only a couple left before Christmas and after that nothing for about two months.  He did say that he would allow me to reschedule (normally without 24 hours notice any coupons are void).  I made the decision to go get Emily since I hadn't heard back from John.  As I walked to the car, I got an email from John telling me that he'd walk to get Emily and I should keep my appointment.  I turned around back to the salon where I found out it was too late (!) to get my appointment back because he'd already started cutting someone else's hair and couldn't stop in the middle of a cut to get me going with my colour.

Too bad for me.  To say the least.

We seriously need another phone and if one doesn't appear in this house by the end of the day I'm putting in a land-line.  Seriously.

Perhaps it seems ridiculous but I cried most of the drive home.  I've been looking forward to these two or so hours at the salon for weeks and weeks.  We have no family in town to help me.  John's mom is here and I booked the appointment specifically while she was visiting.  It isn't fair to John to ask him to stay with Henry for up to three hours during a work day so I can get my hair coloured and cut and get pampered.  This was my chance.

I know how trivial this sounds but I spend my day - day in, day out - giving to the kids, to volunteering, to the house, to getting up at least twice a night right now.  I really felt I deserved and needed this and then, due to a lack of communication devices and really bad luck, I missed out.

I didn't feel any bitterness towards Emily.  Until.

Until she came home, laid down for 15 minutes, announced she was fine, ate her lunch and then asked to go back to school.

And I'm not even joking.  Because that would be the cruelest joke ever.

Needless to say, my mood did not improve with that tidbit of news.  I poured myself and my crappy mood into stuffing my Christmas cards into envelopes (probably not the best activity to undertake when in the midst of a pity party - not a lot of Christmas joy went into the cards.  In fact, I didn't even sign the backs of them.  Nice one, eh?).

Afterwards, I made a cup of tea, watched Being Erica and then went to pick up Hope.  I took her out for hot chocolate, stood in a giant line at Michael's with my 50% coupon and by the time we left the store I was in a remarkably better mood.  Spending time with Hope has that effect.  She puts things in perspective and her almost-always-good mood is contagious.

Even so, I still look like a hippy and I'm still kinda pissed but life goes on.