My diary is all booked up most weekends for the foreseeable future.
I’m so popular. Kidding. My social calendar is still quite sparse. It seems when you put a baby to bed each night, you also put to bed fancy shoes, drinking games and loud music.
My diary is instead full of appointments where someone will be dyeing and blowdrying, clipping and painting or tearing hair from my body with hot wax.
Don’t know about you, but trying just to look neat and tidy is a huge deal for a mum and a lesson in organisation and efficiency.
A couple of weeks ago I had my waxing done. Appreciating that I’m offering TMI, I…um, had the whole shebang, which takes time (trust me, you do not want a rush job).
I had to schedule this for when the waxing salon was open and when hubby could watch Millie Moo.
It left me with Saturday. Saturday morning actually, Mr G plays a winter sport Saturday afternoons.
I woke when Millie did, fed her, gave her some brekky, played with her for a bit and had a quick shower while she kicked around on our bed as Mr G kept one sleepy eye and protective hand on her. I popped her back in her cot for her morning nap, put the baby monitor right beside hubby’s head and left to go get my hair yanked from its roots at 9.45am. Oh yay. What a morning. I wouldn’t call it a beauty treatment, it’s only necessary maintenance so I don’t resemble a yeti. Despite this, hubby thinks I’m off to be pampered. I know he only hears “blah blah SALON blah blah BEAUTICIAN blah blah BEAUTY blah blah MIND THE BABY”.
Last weekend I got a mani and pedi. Same deal, although the experience for me was a lot more pleasant (except for the part where they shaved off my crusty heel skin because I haven’t had the time to put on anything but Havaianas on my feet for months).
This weekend you’ll find me at the hairdressing salon on Saturday at 8am. I LOVE going to the hairdresser and love the way my hair looks when I step out but it’s a scheduling nightmare. My natural (ahem) blonde requires a lot of foil and time to process. This transformation has to be done and dusted before Mr G leaves for his match.
Within the next couple of weeks I’ll be back at the waxing salon starting the whole vicious – and expensive – Saturday beauty cycle again.
Millie, at 11 months, is too wriggly now to be able to bring along to the hairdresser or nail salon. I used to wheel her along when she was a tiny, sleepy, quiet baby. My lovely hairdresser’s husband used to jiggle the pram when she stirred from her slumber while I was getting my colour done. Those days are long gone. Mums of newborns: make the most of the sleepy, compact, new baby stage. Go. Go now.
This is all so we feel ok when we look in the mirror. We want to give off the impression that we have this new mum thing down pat. We want people to look at us and say “she has a baby and…wow, how does she do it?”.
No-one can really tell what has gone on to have me looking as great as I do (that was a joke). But I can be certain that everyone’s going to notice as soon as I don’t make the effort!
Do you find it tricky to find your ‘me’ time? If someone else looks after bub for an hour or two, where do you go?