Like many moms, I yearn for some quality “me” time. I’ve even found myself daydreaming about enjoying a solo bathroom break — just to indulge in private moments without interruption. Yet, I’ve become so accustomed to having a little shadow accompany me that I’m not sure I can handle the thought of going it alone anymore. It feels like I have a personal assistant at times: “Darling, could you please hand me the toilet paper? And while you’re at it, grab a magazine, love? Oh, and don’t forget the wet wipes — thanks to that little irritation I’ve been dealing with since pregnancy!”
While I appreciate the help, there’s one place I crave to visit on my own: the hair salon.
Hear me out:
I want to be treated like royalty for a day, to have my own fairy glam-mother transform me into a princess — no assistants needed. I crave that incredible scalp massage during a shampoo that feels almost as enticing as a steamy romance novel. I’d rather not have my bliss interrupted by a little one turning my salon chair into their personal playground.
I long to unwind, free from distractions, while I finally get that much-needed color and cut. I can’t deal with a tiny tornado bouncing on my lap, waving a sticky lollipop around while I try to enjoy my pampering session.
I want to groove to the latest beats while I subtly dance under my salon cape, not hear “D-D-D-D-Dora” blaring from my phone as my toddler entertains herself with kids’ songs. Right now, the only thing I want to hear from Dora is, “Time to go without your Mama.”
I want to admire my chic new ombre hair without a child clambering for attention. I want to smile at my reflection and feel beautiful without a 30-pound distraction on my lap.
And let’s not forget the wine! I want to sip glass after glass of complimentary wine to ease the guilt of spending money at a fancy salon, all while avoiding a pint-sized critic exclaiming, “Mommy can only have one drink!”
I need a day to indulge without worrying about loud noises or the antics of a little one mimicking my every word. I dream of a salon experience where I can vent about life without a little one’s interruptions.
So here’s the deal: sweetheart, I love you, but I need some time at the salon. Text Daddy or call an Uber — whatever it takes. My stylist and I share a unique bond. She doesn’t throw tantrums or demand all the attention. Instead, she focuses on making me look fabulous without judgment.
She transforms my tired mom-bun into dazzling curls, giving me five days of carefree confidence. And let’s face it, she makes me feel like a million bucks without a single needle of Botox.
She’s my perfect adult friend, someone who laughs at my jokes and reminds me how amazing I am as a mom. Even if she’s just flattering me, I appreciate her support.
And the best part? She listens to all my stories, no matter how trivial they may seem. Poor thing; she has to hear me go on about how much I need this time away from home.
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