A Legendary Beauty
Last night, my husband returned from a week-long business trip to Los Angeles. He travels much less than he used to. I secretly like the occasional trip, and in years past, I would take advantage of the change in routine to stay up to all hours, doing projects that I had been neglecting. Still, after a few days, I'm bored with the novelty of sleeping alone and keeping odd hours has lost its thrill, and I begin to watch the clock for his arrival.
As his return approached, I caught a good look at myself in the mirror. I was overdue for a 'night of beauty.' I checked the schedule. His flight wouldn't land until 9 pm - I figured I'd pretty myself all up after I got the kids to bed, and then lounge casually but seductively on the bed when I heard his car pull in. Heeeelloooooo, husband.
When eight o'clock rolled around, the kids were still not tired. At all. No. They were not. I decided that perhaps some vigorous exercise was called for, and turned on some dancing tunes. After five rockin' songs, they were still going strong. I, on the other hand, was laying on the couch, fanning myself and panting. Exercise gives some people a fine, rosy complexion. After approximately 30 seconds of aerobic exercise, I turn mottled red like Alien Nation and pass right through the dewy stage to sweat-circles.
This is not the 'pretty' I had in mind. Clapping my hands together, I turned off the tunes and marched the kids to the bath. I poured in a generous dollop of relaxing lavender bubble bath, and piled all three nuditos into the tub. They began cavorting and sloshing suds onto the floor from the moment the hit the water. Sigh. The floor needed a good mopping anyway. I threw a towel on the puddle, and turned my attention to my eyebrows.
The kids used soap bubble covered hands to reinact several scenes from the Spongebob Movie, ("Are you a goofy goober, yeah? I'm a goofy goober yeah!" followed shortly by chants of "I'm ready! Promotion! I'm ready! Promotion!) while I trotted to the other bathroom to fetch my tweezers.
I spotted the box of hair color on the counter as I grabbed the tweezers - I've been having my hair done by my stylist, but in an effort to quell our family spending, I'm going to color it myself until summer. I grabbed the box of color as well. Why not? I can get my head slathered while the kids are in the tub, and by the time I have them out and into pajamas, I can leap into the shower and rinse it off. See how smart I am?
I checked on my little porpoises in the next room, and then returned to bathroom #2 to do the stinky assult on my head. I snapped on the gloves, mixed up the stuff, and squirted and massaged and squirted and massaged and tried not to breathe or pass out. Ah yes. This is why paying someone else to color my hair was SO WORTH IT. I was excited about budgeting, forgetting the stink that is hair dye. Whew!
Unable to secure my coated hair in a neat french twist like the gal on the box, I sort of wadded my hair into a ball and wrapped a hair elastic around it. Stray strands whipped me in the face, leaving purplish, gooey stripes on my cheeks. I added a few barrettes to my 'do, and marched to the other bathroom to assess the damage wrought my the three amigos.
The smell of lavender did not seem to be having the desired effect. There were puddles everywhere, and the kids were busy slathering on full beards of suds and laughing. With tweezers in hand, I decided to go ahead and pluck stray brow hairs where I could supervise the kids.
I leaned forward on the vanity, standing on tiptoes, and placed my elbows on the countertop, nose a millimeter from the mirror in my short woman standing brow plucking stance. I made up cusswords, hissing under my breath as I yanked one, two, three hairs in quick succession. The fumes from my head mixed with the scent of the lavender were overwhelming, and I felt ill.
"Hey! Stop splashing!"
"Sorry, Mooooom." Slosh, splash.
Sigh.
I returned my eyes to the mirror. Grabbing a burly hair near the bridge of my nose, I yanked. It snapped in half. I regripped near the root and yanked again. Holy crap. It's a bleeder!
I made a grab for a tissue, and pressed it to my forehead, cringing as a rivulet of blood snaked down my nose. "Huzzuh muzza bumble shigga" I muttered. A glance at the clock showed that I had five minutes before the hair color could be washed out. I got a fresh tissue and left it pressed in place, a curtain of white dangling from my forehead as I gathered towels for the kids.
No one wanted to come out. There was a mighty protest, and as I struggled to pull the beasties upright to rinse them free of bubbles, my head was splashed. The tissue fell in the bath, I felt hair dye running toward my eye, and I had both hands engaged in my toddler's armpits.
I dropped her back into the bubbles and lunged towards the towel rack, blotting my face and leaving a nice smear of purple goo and blood on the white towel. I moved into hyperdrive, and managed to get all three kids rinsed and into towels and herded towards the living room for a show while I wondered what horrific damage I was inflicting on my scalp as the 30 minute mark passed by.
I threw pajamas at the kids and ran to the shower. Rinsing the color out in record time, I leaped from the shower to find my kids, completely nekkid except for their towels, sound asleep on the couch. I struggled them into pajamas, and carried them to bed.
Then I poured a big glass of wine.
I had about 30 minutes before my husband would be home. I gave up on the eyebrows, and mopped up the soap suds in the bathroom. I started a load of laundry, and pulled on my funny striped long-johns. After drying my hair, I crawled into bed and figured I could still try to be seductive, but the 'beauty' just wasn't going on. I was snoring, loudly, when my husband got home.
Ah yes. Cleopatra can just move the heck over. Jenny Lauck is in the house.
Comments
OMG. That was pee-your-pants funny. No wonder I love you.
Posted by: carmen | February 4, 2006 1:26 PM
Talk about multi-tasking gone wrong! Too funny!
How is it that anytime we decide that we are going to use the moments after bedtime to do something for ourselves that bedtime either doesn't happen as planned or manages to throw a wrench in any plans that could've been? Really! WHY????
Ahem. I just poured myself a glass of wine as well.
Posted by: Andie D. | February 5, 2006 11:24 PM
Posted by: Lisa Stone | February 6, 2006 9:10 AM
Look at that - laughing so hard that I couldn't type correctly. Howling. Thanks.
Posted by: Lisa Stone | February 6, 2006 9:12 AM
Hi there, first time here and this post is fabulous.
I cracked up that you even HAVE white towels.
That makes you super brave in my book. The only place I ever see white towels is in a hotel.
I enjoyed this!
:)
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