Friday, April 8, 2011

Mommy Relaxation Time

It's kind of hard to take a picture
involving your own head.
(And those are golden highlights,
not gray hairs.)

At the end of some days, I insist that if the kids want to play with me, they must play a game that falls under the "Mommy Relaxation Time" umbrella. The primary rule of any game in this category is that Mommy remains seated (or, supine, if she's so lucky) for the entire game. Variations on the theme include: doctor (aka "Mommy's in a coma"), Mommy back rub, restaurant (aka "Serve Mommy") or, the least deceptive-seeming choice of hairdresser.

I love having my hair brushed. When I was in labor the second time and Vance had gotten himself so thoroughly wedged in the birth canal that I was stuck in the transition part of labor an exhausting five hours, I asked my husband to brush my hair between contractions. By no means did it dull the pain, but it did make the rest times that much more restful.

Likewise, when the five o'clock hour hits and my kids turn into demons and my patience spontaneously disappears, having the kids pamper me does not actually increase my energy or my tolerance; but it does make the time much more pleasant.

Fifi particularly loves when my visit to the beauty parlor coincides with some outlandish event I am supposedly attending. Last time, I was off to meet the president. As she combed my mane with a comfortable wide-toothed comb and clipped away with non-cutting Play-Doh scissors, she talked on and on about her own experiences visiting the White House where all the presidents still live including George Bush, Abraham Lincoln and George Washington. She makes conversation just like a professional and pampers me to no end. And at that price, the 'do is not that bad, either.

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