One thing about being a work from home, stay at home mom while also being a wife and a daughter and a sister is that you don’t get a lot of time to yourself. Someone is always calling for your attention in the form of pings on your work computer or as “mom” asking to open a new popsicle. The company issued extra bulky laptop sits open on the kitchen counter while you cook a love infused dinner for your kids to throw on the floor, trying to listen and respond to a work meeting while Blueys mom is on the tv reminding you that locking yourself in your room for 20 minutes is normal. A teething baby on your chest, a toddler doing par-core off the kitchen counter, a husband exactly 2 minutes late from work, a boss waiting for an answer to an ever so important and time critical question. Yet all you can tune into in Chili in your subconscious telling you to leave the kids with dad and go do something for yourself for the day. So you listen. Your husband is golfing Saturday and you want him to because he comes home a better husband and dad. Which leaves you Sunday (but not too early so you can still do breakfast or too late so you can prep for the next day) to get your self care in. Your husband says to take all the time you need and all you really want is to read a book in peace and sip coffee while it’s still hot and get your nails done once a month. You sit and read your book and drink your coffee, checking your watch every few pages so as to not get too immersed for too long. And then drive to the nail salon, which ends up being closed not all Sundays, but just this particular one. You drive around for half an hour just to find one that is open. Walking inside, no one greets you or mentions how long the wait will be or if they even have any Availability. Instead they just point to the sign in iPad and tell you to have a seat. You sit in the waiting chair for what feels like an eternity without a single person acknowledge your presence. A paradox from your every day reality where you are constantly needed by someone in your life yet want to be acknowledged just as a girl trying to get her nails done and ironically there, you are invisible. No one knowing how precious and carefully thought out your time is, if you come home too late you won’t be able to fit in a 75 minute long meticulous bedtime routine. So you leave without saying a word with 3 broken nails, and 2 completely missing. Wondering if anyone will even go home and tell their spouse about the girl who cried in the nail salon or if anyone will even remember. Or if anyone realized the weight that a quick nail refresh can hold in a mom’s life. Feeling normal and put together and having a moment where she’s just a girl who wants red nails.
