I am wondering how I got so little done today, and feeling guilty about it. I can't decide if this is good or bad, and maybe that's because it just, "is". I did get something done I feel proud about- I saw a friend! Out here in ruralness, you have to make a bit of an effort to spend some coffee time on the porch with a friend. Not a whole lot- it takes driving, and putting aside of a space of time- but some effort. My friend also is talented with the scissors, and cuts my hair for me. That seems like a great excuse to get together, and gives me a reason to get my haircut- an event I would previously subject myself to perhaps semi-annually like a bra sale at Victoria's Secret. She is a trained professional, and must like me because our pre-cut hair discussion goes somewhat like this:
Her: So, what do you want to do with your hair?
Me: Shorter? I guess? Or longer is fine.
Her: Do you want bangs back, or keep layering them into your hair?
Me: Um, sure!
Her: Okay, I'm going to elevate it in back, give you a swingy bob and lighten the top with bangs.
Me: Terrific!
See, I am not very hair particular. Never have been. "Back in the day" when modeling, they would cut my hair, give me bangs, layers, perm, whatever. I was like Barbie Head. I looked like a Standard Poodle when a high school sophomore. And I was fine with that.
The best part of getting my hair cut, is getting to chat with my friend. And after the cut is done, and I've swept up my hair, we continue to chat. Mostly about our children. Not really to complain -although we do belly ache a little about our messiest ones and the grumpiest ones, but I think more to share and get reassured that perhaps we aren't making a complete bollocks of the whole business of parenting. Of course, I don't think we'll really know that answer until we see what kind of adults our kids morph into. Even then, after we think they're all that, with paying jobs and stable families, there could be a freak out. A daughter who buys a fast car and runs away with Merriam, her tennis partner. Or a son who decides to quit the "rat race" and open an ashram and live on Ricinus Communis smoke. Even if they were in their middle years when they jumped tracks, we'd still take the motherlode of guilt and self-blame. "Is it because I called her athleticism a gift?" " Did I not allow him his own spirituality?" I suppose, as my own Mother says, " You have to do what you think it best." and, I guess, suffer the second-guessing of screwing up the lives of your precious offspring.
After my friend left, before the arrival of the next wave of wind blasts and water-from-sky, my day then stalled a bit.
Then I felt bad that things weren't getting accomplished. When are the fences going to be painted? How is my horse going to get in shape if we can never get out of the paddock? Why have I not finished the trim in the kitchen? Has the insurance company been informed that my Eldest is driving? Eye appointments are overdue, and Eldest is going to need glasses (darn Huz' eyes), also dermatologist for Eldest, and rent an RV for the fair, get prices on tires for the trailer.... and why are the gardens not weeded yet? When are the onion sets going to get put in?
Ugh.
But no matter, must go get Eldest from school take Middlest to Girl Scouts and Youngest to a Dog Workout with Tucker. This must all happen at same time. Note to people with one child : This is why some families are always too early or late to everything. When three have to be in different places at once, no one is on time.
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