While brushing my teeth the other day I nonchalantly looked up in the mirror and did not recognize the person who was staring back at me. Who was this lady with the dark “I need more sleep” circles under her eyes? Surely that wasn’t me! This woman in the reflection had roots that were in desperate need of color and eyebrows that had taken on a life of their own. This was not the well-taken-care-of girl I had always prided myself in being. No this was Martyr Mom; the woman who puts everyone else’s needs before her own!
I had always heard about this creature but thought it was just a myth, an old legend like “Bloody Mary” or “Big Foot.” But sure as day, this unwelcomed houseguest had found her way into my home and had even helped herself to my favorite “Don’t Talk to Me Until I Have Had My First Cup of Coffee” nightshirt!
My own mother had raised me to be a polite and welcoming host … but desperate times cause for desperate measures; and this ogre glaring back at me was definitely pretty desperate! I picked up the phone and scheduled an emergency day at the spa!
I made the appointment on a day that I knew both kids had afterschool activities so I would be able to have plenty of me time. I had it all planned out in my head. I would accept the glass of wine they always offer but I am too rushed or embarrassed to take because it isn’t even noon yet. I would get the mani/pedi while I sat under the dryer. I would get a facial and a massage too. I was not going to concentrate on the gazillions of dollars I knew it was going to cost in order to transform me into the woman I used to be. I was just going to do it!
The morning of the big makeover I sprang out of bed ready to conquer the world or at least my haircut. The excitement of getting a new doo made me forget something very important, Newton’s lesser-known law. You know – the one that states that if a mom is about to do something for herself, then without a doubt one of her children will suddenly become ill.
Any other day I would have just canceled my appointment and given my full attention to my under-the-weather baby. But I had an appointment with one of the top hairstylists. This woman was known as an artist; her scissors being her paintbrush and my hair would be her canvas! If you have an opportunity to have the Monet of Manes, the Leonardo of Locks, the Chagall of Color to do your hair … well you certainly don’t pass that up. So I stuffed my daughter Grace’s pockets full of tissues and dragged her along to my appointment!
Needless to say it was not the spa day I had envisioned. Instead of chitchatting with the stylist, I got to hear about the latest 4th grade heartthrob. Instead of reading trashy tabloid magazines from February 2011 while waiting for my highlights to set, I got to play Eye Spy. Instead of enjoying a midday glass of vino, I got to teach my daughter a valuable lesson; just because you choose to be a mom doesn’t mean you have to stop being a woman, a person.
We left the spa, Grace a little more grownup and me more like my old self, accept sassier! Since Grace was suddenly feeling better, we decided to stop for cheesecake. As we sat at the table contemplating our sugary options, I could not help but sense that everyone who passed by was staring at me and smiling. Arrogantly I leaned closer to tell Grace about my observations. She lowered her menu, looked me over and said, “It could be the hair Mom, or it could be the fact that you put your shirt back on inside out!” We got our cheesecake to go!
Sharon Fuentes is a regular contributor to Westchester Family.
