On Sunday morning, Rick is out with the girls, the twins are sleeping and I suddenly have spring fever. Or fall fever. I don’t know what to call it. I’m free to do whatever I want. I’m so jazzed. And there is nothing cooler than admitting you feel “jazzed.”
I suddenly want to neaten the house, watch Saturday Night Live on DVR, answer emails, read the NY Post, tweet my euphoria, organize the playroom and take a shower.
I go for the shower. Half way through, I think I hear crying.
Three quarters of the way through, I’m sort of positive I hear crying.
By the time I shut the water off, Harlowe is screaming at full throttle as if she has been abandoned for six hours at the bottom of a well. And then Chase joins in because these babies really like to back each other up.
I’m now a bit less jazzed.
I bring them both into the bathroom with me in the hopes that they will be completely fascinated by my make-up/hair drying routine. And I really try to sell it. There’s singing, dancing, even a tap dance number.
Chase is intrigued. Harlowe is so not.
So I put Harlowe in the Baby Bjorn, switch to a modern dance routine and both twins seem relatively content. I start putting on my make-up.
Putting on my eyeliner, while Harlowe is strapped to my body and wiggling around, is a tad challenging.
I think it’s about the same difficulty level as applying make-up while driving which I absolutely hate to admit I used to do while commuting. I know. Awful. A real time saver. But AWFUL.
Then the dryer puts the twins in the zone and I know I am home free. Finally ready for a day of total chaos, spit-up and general hysteria.
In other grooming news, I finally got my hair trimmed.
Last weekend, a member of my husband’s family leaned over and said to me, “Wow. Your hair is so long. You look like Rapunzel.”
I admitted to him that because I’m very safety conscious, I want to be ready to use my hair as an escape ladder for my family in the event of a house fire.
And then I immediately made a hair appointment.
I only cut two inches off but I think it transformed me from a character in a Brothers Grimm fairy tale to a mom with super fabulous, perfect length hair.
Or as my husband describes it, “It looks exactly the same. I can’t even tell you got it cut.”
mama bird notes:
Contributing Mama Diane LeBleu has a beautiful piece about the middle child. Click here to read more.