I committed an act yesterday that could be construed as the erratic exploit of an unstable woman who couldn’t get her two-year-old to nap.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and lopped it off. Isn't that, after all, what distraught ladies do on TV?
Okay, it wasn’t quite that dramatic. I cut a little less than three inches, so it’s still longish, still hits my shoulders. But it felt good. And, despite the 500 residual hairs still sproinging out around my head, it looks a lot better.
I had to do something. I had spent the morning galloping, tiptoeing and skipping around a room at Kitty Cat’s Tot Bop class (which was both fun and humiliating in a Gymboreeish way), took Fruit Bat and Kitty Cat to the playground, made meals, grocery shopped, weathered the preschool drop off, etcetera, etcetera. I had to get a little crazy, man. I had to wield some scissors and shock the kids a little.
So, I was cheered. Fruit Bat and Kitty Cat were in good moods. We went to our friends’ house where she fed them dinner and me wine. Fruit Bat, at some point in the evening handed me something (I don’t remember what) and said, “Here you go, nice lady.” Jay came home happy because it was a Friday night. The kids went to bed with nary a peep.
And all was okay with our world.