Sometimes it takes a few moments (or hours) of feeling sorry for yourself to turn around and kick yourself in the ass… So here’s the story. I left the house the other day with a little birdie who really needed to nap, but didn’t want to nap more than a little bit. Sooooo outside we ventured. We wandered around the neighborhood to see all the pumpkins, goblins, witches, spider webs, acorns and leaves. We found ourselves in front of the pink house, which houses thirteen (13!) children. Just as I was chasing my one (1) child as she was darting into the road, The Mom came out of the house. As usual, she looked fantastic. She’s probably a bit too old to be wearing the trendy little dress and leggings she was confidently sporting, but because she has a great body she seems to be able to pull it off. As we chatted, I thought about what I had thrown on. Oof. The pants were fine, but the rest? Oh my. The comfy (read: too big and dowdy) sweater WITH the pants? Not a good choice. And because I couldn’t find my default black boots, I was wearing a pair of old running shoes. And my Mom Hair — always a pony tail, now about a year overdue for a real haircut–nice. The only thing that looked good? My toes. But only because I had a pedicure about two weeks ago. Of course, The Mom could not see those…
But it gets worse. The Mom asked me what Wren was going to be for Halloween. Side note: although she has 13 children, she always is the first one in the conversation to ask about my child. I didn’t really want to tell her that I was thinking of dressing Wren up as Andy Warhol because I’m not sure she’d quite understand so I told her that I was thinking (which I had been!) about making Wren an apple costume because she’s obsessed with apples (which she very much is), but I wasn’t quite sure “if I could get it together by then.” Then I remembered with whom I was speaking. The Mom. She went on to sweetly tell me about all her (13!) kids and their costumes. Sigh. At about that moment, the only thing that saved me from continuing down this soul-sucking road was that Wren tried to dart into the street again, another one of her recent obsessions. So that was my out.
The little birdie and I kept walking and I decided that a coffee would really perk me up. With some sugar. Yeah, caffeine and sugar, that’s what I needed. I ordered a pumpkin pie latte, which friends had been raving about, but, ahem, gag. Do not put a pumpkin pie into a cup of professionally-steamed espresso. Repeat after me. That’s about when it dawned on me. No amount of caffeine and sugar was really going to make me feel better or more confident as I walked around with a sad excuse for an outfit and a ‘do. And a “woe is me” attitude.
Hair appointment is tomorrow. And I’m getting IT back. Myself, that is. But not like my old pre-baby self. She’s gone, but that’s OK. Because I’m here and I’ve got everything I need. Nothing like a swift kick in the ass.