Mornings around our house are crazy. No matter how much preparation I do the night before, it seems like we are always scrambling to get out of the house. It doesn’t help that Husband and Sweet Pea are not morning people. Husband literally sleeps through the “buzzer” version of the alarm, despite the fact that it sounds very much like a fire alarm. And Sweet Pea almost always responds to my “good morning” greeting with a crabby “Walk away, Mommy.” I’ve tried to adapt our routine to allow both Husband and Sweet Pea to wake up slowly, but no matter how much time I give them, neither one will actually wake up until I drag them out of bed.
Things don’t get much better once Husband and Sweet Pea are out of bed either. Husband is just really not a morning person. He moves around the house s l o w l y. Never mind that he’s already running late or that I have a train to catch. Or even that he’s cutting it so close the kids might not make it to school in time for breakfast. Every morning he takes his time waking up, takes a long shower and then goes down to the kitchen to read the news on his phone. Husband claims he’s checking the weather, but more often than not if I ask him what the weather will be that day, he doesn’t actually know. In any event, I am left to wake up two kids, get them to go potty, brush their teeth and hair, get them dressed and get them ready for school. Even after all of that, more often than not I still have to say something to Husband to actually get him out of the house. Something like, “you HAVE to get in the van so I can get ready.” Husband almost always responds by saying I can go ahead and he’ll take care of the kids, but I know that if I go upstairs the kids will cry and the leaving process will just take even longer. So I usually wait until he actually loads the kids in the van, and then I rush around like a mad person to try to get ready and make it on time to the last express train.
Too often, I don’t make it. And one of the reasons is my hair. I am one of those lucky (sarcasm) girls who has very thick, prone-to-frizz hair. I simply cannot go to work without washing it. And if I wash it, I HAVE to dry it. Drying my hair alone takes about 20 minutes. And that doesn’t include the straightening, which I also have to do if I want to come home with anything less than an afro in the evening. And since I usually have 30 minutes or less to get myself together and to the train after my kids leave for the day, I very often run into a time problem.
Today was no exception. We were running behind, it was raining and I really didn’t want to get into work at 9:45. So I made a risky decision: I decided to wear my hair naturally. I figured that since it was a rainy day I had nothing to lose. I could spend thirty minutes drying and straightening my hair and get into work late, but I’d still probably have a frizzy mess by the time I came home anyway. Plus I had an office day. The only people who would see my horrible hair were the people I worked with. And I’ve been here long enough now that I was hopeful they could see past my big hair.
So here I am. Not quite curly, not quite straight and feeling like I made a mistake. You know those days where you take a little bit of a fashion risk, and end up at work all day long wishing to God you had put on something else? Yes, I feel like that. Thankfully, I work with almost all men, none of whom even noticed when I dyed my decidedly brown hair blonde a few weeks ago. I’m pretty sure no one will notice or comment on the frizz today. Or maybe they’ll chalk it up to the weather. But I still feel silly. Thank God for my friend who probably lied, but told me my hair looked fine. I’m going to cling to her comment and pray that she’s right. And I’m going to have to start getting up earlier in the morning. . . or learn to embrace big hair. Sigh. If only that 80’s trend could make a come back. . . .