First off, the card swap is in full swing. For those who didn't want to participate, it's your loss. Now you're going to miss seeing a picture of me in my naughty Santa outfit sucking on a lollipop in a most suggestive manner. Maybe next year.
So yesterday I went to have my hair cut for the first time since May. I had an appointment scheduled for Tuesday, July 18th, but that day turned into labour day rather than get-your-hair-cut-before-you-can-never-do-it-again day. I go to a really trendy hip place, despite being far from trendy or hip myself. My hair was washed by a teeny boy with emo hair, wearing beaten up Converses and some jelly bracelets. While I was leaning back into the sink, the dear boy asked me what I'd been up to so far that day. My response? Without hesitation, "Just looking after my four month old." Silence. Somehow 19 year old hipster kids don't know where to go after that reply. That gap between me and hip & trendy widened to Grand Canyon-like proportions from that point.
The set-up prior to this wasn't great anyway. At my first appointment at said salon way back in the day I aged 30 years just sitting in the chair. My stylist, a woman with a choppy, spiked concoction sitting atop her head, asked what I would be doing on Friday night. Clubbing? Pubbing? Going up to London? "Just a nice night in!" I chirped, hoping she would move on without a second thought as to what a loser I was. I resisted the urge to tell her that my perfect Friday night would involve a big mug of coffee or tea, flannel pyjamas, some Ben & Jerry's, and a made for TV movie from 1990 starring Meredith Baxter as a woman scorned, or a ballerina starving for her art, played by Kelly Martin. The channel featuring these movies, much like Lifetime (24 hours of made for TV movies from the 70s-mid 90s...awesome!) will be my downfall. I am truly old before my time.
Another thing I've learned is that it's never too early for your child to look at you as if you have lost all grasp on reality. I was singing Itsy Bitsy Spider for P. a few days ago, ensuring to make the spider movements with my hands, as well as signalling the rain and the upcoming sun. I'm thinking that I am planting a genius seed in her head so that she will be able to sing the song with ease from 8 months. Instead, she looked at me like she couldn't possibly be any more disgusted with me. It's the look I'm sure to get when she's 16 and brings a boyfriend (or girlfriend) home to hang out and I talk about how cute it was when she was 3 months old and crapped all over me when we were shopping. I've had a glimpse of her parental-induced mortified look, and I don't like it.
Now let's move on to how I'm sticking it to the man. It's more parenting nonsense, so beware.
Pacifiers - a neccessity in my life. My kid was born with reflux and needed to be soothed regularly in a way that I could not provide. She likes her dummy, but she does have plenty of dummy-free time when she's not fussing. At this week's mums and babies meet up some of the other mothers were congratulating another whose child has forsaken her pacifier recently in favour of her thumb. The talk was all about how evil the pacifier is and how thumb sucking is the better option. Uh, que? I know I would much prefer P. to have a pacifier, which she can be weaned off of, versus sucking her thumb, which can be a life-long habit. Pacifiers (to my knowledge) don't mess up your mouth, whereas long term thumb sucking does. I just sat there quietly, pretending that thumb sucking actually is a-ok and that I'm just an evil, careless mom that pops a dummy in her kid's mouth at the slightest hint of a cry.
Following the pacifier discussion was one involving whether we were going to go back to work once maternity leave was over. Yet again, I was the odd one out. Everyone else was either going to stay home forever and ever, or would only go back to work full-time. There were a lot of polite smiles and definite judging going on when I said I intended to go back to work. My Mom went back to work three months after both my brother and I were born. At times she even had two jobs and we turned out just fine. Well, I did anyway. Jury is still out on my brother.
I love P. dearly and I even like her now, but I'm still kind of anxious to get back to work. Call me a freak, but this SAHM business is just not me. I've tried to hack into my work email account just to get a sniff of work-related discussion. That is tragic, I know. I admit, I used to look down on SAHMs. I wondered how anyone would want to stay home with their kid(s), and debated as to whether or not that was considered work. Hell yes it is. Part of the reason I want to go back to work is that it manages to be less "work" than staying home with P. all day. I need a break!
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go dangle P. out the window by her ears and then feed her some motor oil.