After the past couple of weeks, my mom knows how stressed out I've been about everything in general and mostly about the baby. So this morning she called and told me, "I happen to be in the area," (a goddamn lie, my parents live in Baltimore County,) and asked me if I wanted to go run errands with her. Eager to talk to someone who has raised six girls with varying degrees of success, I chirped, "Yes, plz!" And so Henry and my mother and I went to Pentagon City, and bought shoes, and ate at Noodles and Company, and wandered about World Market, and then she grabbed my hand and said, "Let' go to the Red Door Salon!"
"I don't have 15,000$!" I protested meekly. (that's how much they charge you just to open the door. Not really. But it's not cheap.)
"I'll treat you. Come on!" she said, and dragged me, meekly protesting, to the salon. I felt under-dressed, even dressed as relatively-nicely as I am. (skinny jeans, lace tunic, gladiator sandals, in case you were wondering.) If the manicurist was judging me, she said nothing. Henry fussed in his stroller long enough that I went and got him, and then he fussed enough that one of the manicurists went and got a basin of water and gave him a tiny little pedicure while we got our toes painted, which was extremely kind of her and now his little toes smell like lemons.
"I cannot believe how much better I feel." I said finally.
"Of course you do, baby." the manicurist said. "You are having your feet rubbed."
And sometimes life is just that simple. ;P