Today was the first day I ventured out without my wig. Considering the bigger picture it's a fairly minor occasion but it oddly felt so exposing and monumental. I had to wait in the Trader Joe's car park for the girls to wake from their naps so I watched the comings and goings of people as they went shopping. There were some tulips and roses for sale outside the front and almost everyone stopped and contemplated buying them before entering the shop. From the inside of the car, looking out, everyone's lives looked so rosey but I doubt they are all sunshine and rainbows. With my wig on I feel like one of those people whom I presume have a whipped cream, cherry topped life. I give myself a virtual slap in the face - I do have a whipped cream, cherry topped life and my two sleeping (slightly snoring) beauties reminded me of this.
When they woke I checked the mirror, applied some lip balm, smoothed my fluffy hair and opened the door. I got the girls out and went over to contemplate the tulips and roses. That didn't last long as there was only one toddler sized trolley/cart left and as Evie spotted this she began to panic - she really loves those pesky carts.
'mummmy, mmmmummmmmyyyyy, the CART, I really really need a cart, ahhhhhh mummmy, LOOOKKKK!'
Out of the corner of my eye I could see a Dad and his two children fast approaching from behind us and I couldn't bear the thought of getting around the shop with an inconsolable, cartless Evie so I charged over to grab that last one. Sorry fellow parent. My payback is that weird universal rule that the last cart/trolley is always creaky and misbehaving. This still applies to the baby carts.
Poor Evie tried to push the cart but it stubbornly groaned and creaked off in the wrong direction. The shop was busy and Evie's little lip began to quiver as she tried to keep up with me so I ended up having to push Isobel with one hand and lean down to pull the stubborn baby cart with the other because hobbling makes me much less conspicuous. People glanced down at Evie and smiled, which is hard not to, because if there is one thing cuter than a toddler pushing a baby shopping cart, it's a toddler in a knitted bear cardigan, with pigtails and sunflowers in the cart. After glancing at Evie, I would get a cursory glance and I felt so self conscious, like my story was written across my face with my short hair and scar.
As I stood looking at the capers and anchovies my eyes began to well up. I don't know why, but I just felt a little overwhelmed. I battled it and began to hum the Bee Gees 'Staying Alive'. It's become my anthem and coping method for these oddly overwhelming moments that hit me out of nowhere. It did the trick and I regained a more comfortable crazy persona. Phew.
No one stopped and asked why in the world I would cut my hair so short, disappointingly they also didn't ask me for ID, so really people can't win when it comes to pleasing me.
Tomorrow I have a girly day and a HAIR CUT!! Whilst I don't have much hair to cut, I have discovered that hair doesn't necessarily grow equally, which means I am slowly but surely growing a mullet. Sexy.
I'll post some photos of my dramatic transformation soon.
If you want to share my crazy moment with with me, here's some Bee Gees
When they woke I checked the mirror, applied some lip balm, smoothed my fluffy hair and opened the door. I got the girls out and went over to contemplate the tulips and roses. That didn't last long as there was only one toddler sized trolley/cart left and as Evie spotted this she began to panic - she really loves those pesky carts.
'mummmy, mmmmummmmmyyyyy, the CART, I really really need a cart, ahhhhhh mummmy, LOOOKKKK!'
Out of the corner of my eye I could see a Dad and his two children fast approaching from behind us and I couldn't bear the thought of getting around the shop with an inconsolable, cartless Evie so I charged over to grab that last one. Sorry fellow parent. My payback is that weird universal rule that the last cart/trolley is always creaky and misbehaving. This still applies to the baby carts.
Poor Evie tried to push the cart but it stubbornly groaned and creaked off in the wrong direction. The shop was busy and Evie's little lip began to quiver as she tried to keep up with me so I ended up having to push Isobel with one hand and lean down to pull the stubborn baby cart with the other because hobbling makes me much less conspicuous. People glanced down at Evie and smiled, which is hard not to, because if there is one thing cuter than a toddler pushing a baby shopping cart, it's a toddler in a knitted bear cardigan, with pigtails and sunflowers in the cart. After glancing at Evie, I would get a cursory glance and I felt so self conscious, like my story was written across my face with my short hair and scar.
As I stood looking at the capers and anchovies my eyes began to well up. I don't know why, but I just felt a little overwhelmed. I battled it and began to hum the Bee Gees 'Staying Alive'. It's become my anthem and coping method for these oddly overwhelming moments that hit me out of nowhere. It did the trick and I regained a more comfortable crazy persona. Phew.
No one stopped and asked why in the world I would cut my hair so short, disappointingly they also didn't ask me for ID, so really people can't win when it comes to pleasing me.
Tomorrow I have a girly day and a HAIR CUT!! Whilst I don't have much hair to cut, I have discovered that hair doesn't necessarily grow equally, which means I am slowly but surely growing a mullet. Sexy.
I'll post some photos of my dramatic transformation soon.
If you want to share my crazy moment with with me, here's some Bee Gees
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