Look good, feel good.

 

God, I love my husband. I do because he absolutely loves me for me and puts up with every single drop of my crazy.

Yes.

He is also treated to my awesomeness. But y'all already knew that. Ha.

Anyways. A couple of weeks ago I was having a bad day. Still reeling from this new normal and trying to manage not only myself but the life things that still keep happening regardless of what else is going on. Getting kids here and there. Trying not to look impatient as new readers read books to me and channeling patience while completing projects. All in the backdrop of a whole bunch of other swirling things like work and planning services and paying bills.

Yeah.

I usually don't have bad days. But the reason why this day was kind of bad-ish was actually a little simpler than you'd think. It wasn't the every day minutia, really. And honestly, though gut-wrenching, it wasn't the new normal logistics either. It was the combination of those things with one seemingly unimportant little thing.

I needed a haircut.

Yep.

Horrible, I know. But in all of this upheaval, I had missed my appointment to see Sakinah not once, but twice. It certainly wasn't because she hadn't been trying to accommodate me. As a matter of fact, she called, texted, and even had others do the same. Telling me that she'd even come to my house if I needed her to--a simple offer that I will never, ever forget.

Anyways. That morning, I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was unruly, puffy and just. . . . yeah. So at that very moment, I picked up my phone and texted Sakinah, asking if she could fit me in that day.

"Of course," she replied. "Just call whenever you are ready."

And that was great. So my plan was to go in the afternoon because I'd had a little extra time after lunch. All I needed to do was get in and out before it was time to pick up the boys from after school care, so I figured it would be fine.

After lunch I started doing some work. One thing led to another and next thing I knew it was three o'clock. Sakinah is pretty fast, so I figured all would be well. I gave her a quick call and she was easygoing as always. "Come at around four. I should be ready for you then," she told me.

The salon is very close to Grady. So, in my procrastinating head, I had planned to slide in there at about 3:15 and escape by five-ish to go and scoop the boys. "Around four" was a curveball--though not an unreasonable one--that would mess up my plans.

Grrr.

Since the BHE has been working on this new business venture, I wanted to avoid asking him to leave work early because of my . . . uhh. . .hair. So I just sat there in my office. Rubbing my hand over my woolly head of hair and feeling myself getting fretful.

That's when my cell phone rang.

"Hey babe. Just checking on you."

It was Harry. And for whatever reason, the minute I heard his voice, I broke down and started crying. Hard.

"What is it, babe? You okay? What happened?"

"I . .. I . . .I just need to get my hair done. I do. I just. . . ." and I dropped my head into my hand and shook it because I knew it sounded ridiculous.

"Did you call Sakinah? Why can't you get your hair done? Should I call for you?"

"No. . .she can take me at around four. . . .but . . .I just need. . . this is so stupid, I know. . . I just need a haircut and a relaxer and it takes time and. . . .I just. . "

"What?" he asked.

"I won't be done in time to get the boys from after school care." Then I held the phone away from my face because I was going into an ugly cry. And I knew how ridiculous I sounded. That made me cry even more.

Harry stayed quiet for a bit. Then he said, "I'll get the boys. Get your hair done, babe."

"No. You need to be at the restaurant. And you need to do the things you need to do to keep the lights on in our house. My hair doesn't keep lights on."

He chuckled. "Yes, it does. When you look good, you feel good. It's hard to do things well when you don't feel good. It's okay, babe. I got you."

He's got me.

I felt this big plume of relief blow out of me. Because he got me--and he gets me. Me. My hair. And all of my crazy that's been swirling inside of this new normal.

"The afterschool time is hardest for you, huh?" His voice was gentle.

I thought for a moment and then answered. "Yeah. It kind of is."

Deanna picked up the boys every day from after school care. So I didn't have to rush because she was always there. There were things I got to do and finish up and not worry about and my kids got to sit at the table and learn cool things every night--all thanks to her. But even more than all of that, I got to see her when I got home. I got to see her.

So, yeah. After school time is hardest. It is.

"It's okay. Go and get your hair done. And get a manicure or whatever it is you get at the nail shop, too. Take a minute, okay? I'm cool."

And he was. So I did. I took that minute. I sure did.

When I walked through the door that evening, Zachary looked at me from the kitchen table and said, "You look good, Mommy!"

Harry just smiled and added, "Yeah. Mommy is hot."

***
Happy Tuesday.