Like many moms, I yearn for some “me” time. I used to fantasize about enjoying a private moment in the bathroom—just a little peace and quiet. However, I’ve grown so accustomed to having my little shadow accompany me that I’m not so sure I want to take a solo trip to the porcelain throne anymore.
It’s as if I have a personal assistant catering to my every need: “Could you hand me the toilet paper, darling? Oh, and a magazine, please? Don’t forget the wet wipes for Mother; let’s just say my backside is feeling rather inflamed due to that pesky issue that reared its head during pregnancy. It’s not fun, and yes, it’s your fault. Now, grab the wipes, and remember to flush, dear.”
While I appreciate my bathroom buddy, there is one place I dream of visiting alone: the hair salon.
Why I Want to Go Alone
So, listen up, little sidekick, and let me share why:
I want to feel like Cinderella for a day, where my fairy glam-mother transforms me into a princess, allowing me to dance the night away before turning back into the hot mess I usually am (no need for the butler, TP assistant, or hemorrhoid helper—I’ve got this).
I crave that luxurious scalp massage during a shampoo that feels as thrilling as a steamy romance novel. I don’t want my moment of bliss interrupted by a sudden cool rinse trickling down my back from a two-year-old practicing gymnastics on my lap.
I just want to unwind alone before, during, and after a long-overdue haircut and color. I can’t manage a tiny cowgirl doing her best rodeo impression on my lap while trying to enjoy a blowout. (Keep adding split ends, and someone’s getting tossed off my lap.)
I want to sway to the upbeat techno music pumping through the salon, subtly dancing under my cape like I’m in my twenties at a vibrant club. I do NOT want to hear “D-D-D-D-Dora” blaring from my phone as a pint-sized Nick Jr. fan entertains herself with a kiddie rap. Right now, the only thing I want to hear from Dora is: “Adios Amigos! Time to vamanos without your Mama.”
I want to admire my fabulous ombre dye job and my always-stylish hair without a 30-pound toddler swaying back and forth on my lap. I don’t need a mini narcissist demanding attention. Mommy just wants to smile at her gorgeous self in the mirror.
I want to sip on glass after glass of complimentary wine, easing the guilt of spending two hundred bucks at a fancy salon while pretending to my husband that our finances are fine. I certainly don’t need an underage munchkin snatching the glass from my hand and announcing, “Mommy can only have one glass of appy juice!”
I long for a pampering day without the need to apologize for loud outbursts or nonsensical words spilling from the mouth of a pint-sized copycat who shouldn’t be mimicking her mother in public. I don’t want to hush a child wearing her own diaper while making embarrassing noises and bouncing on my legs.
I want my little tater tot to head home—without me! Text Daddy, call an Uber, do whatever it takes. No offense, sweetheart, but I want this afternoon with my stylist. You may not understand it now, but I treasure our hour-long hairdo and mental health session. Believe it or not, she doesn’t cry, throw herself on the floor, or make everything about her. In fact, she reminds me that it’s all about me.
She doesn’t call me meanie or poopy-head. Instead, she transforms my hair from drab to fab. And somehow, she makes me look a decade younger (which is worth way more than $200) without a syringe of Botox.
Even better, she replaces my lackluster mom-bun with glamorous curls, giving me five days of carefree happiness. I can whip my head around like a dancer with a Swiffer instead of a pole. (And Daddy thinks I look hot!)
She’s also like my stand-in best friend since I share little in common with my bedwetting, sippy-cup-drinking companions. My grown-up friend laughs at my jokes, tells me I’m beautiful, and calls me an amazing mom, making her my lifelong bestie. So what if she’s just flattering me? She’s a talented liar, and I appreciate her for it.
And get this—she pretends to care about this mama’s drama and indulges me in a vent session about all the nonsense no one else wants to hear. Poor thing has to listen to me grumble about you once again; and this time, it’s for not staying home.
If you’re interested in more about parenting and different family dynamics, check out this article on our blog. For those looking to expand their families, Make a Mom is an excellent resource on at-home insemination kits. And for more information on fertility, Science Daily offers great insights.
In summary, all I desire is a little time to myself at the hair salon—away from the little ones, to indulge in some much-needed pampering.