Furry Legs and Middle Fingers

It's the last week of July and I haven't shaved for a week. A WEEK. Pits, legs, bikini, nothing.  (pretty sure longer for my left knee)

And its HOT, bathing suit weather.... and we go to the pool EVERYDAY. Everyday.
I meant to shave. I really did.
 I just didn't have time.
                  Or
I had time, I just didn't take the time.

See... it was a crazy busy week, two birthdays, multiple nights out, many extra details to coordinate, meetings, phone calls... I did everything I normally do... plus about 85 hours of extras. Time is relative.

To top it off,  I've been on meds for a strained neck muscle so I have been uncomfortable and stiff and the muscle relaxant makes me tired and groggy... so I would hop in the shower, sometimes two or three times a day, depending on the schedule... and do a quick shower off, ever time conscious and always tell myself, very convincingly... next time... Ill do it next time.

The meds promise fun side effects, like constipation (check) and fatigue (check), and irritability (no check... not really... unless you count needing to take multiple showers a day to "get away" irritable. I don't... I call it normal) Tonight, I got irritable, though. Very.  Uncharacteristically irritable. Maybe mean. And when my hubs told me nicely to knock it off I gave him the finger and told him to go back to work. I don't know, but I think that is one of the meanest things a wife can say to her husband. Especially when he has so little time at home these days.

So I was mean and then I was MEAN. Yuck.

Anyway, back to my leg hairs..... Last night I dyed my sons hair bright pink. Yep. I did. I determined two years ago  that hair color was not a hill I was going to die on with this kid.  When he wanted to begged for weeks and weeks to dye his hair blue ..... I made him sit on it a month .... to see if it was a phase. Well, thats at least what I explained to him (eloquently and full of life lessons) .... but it was really to so I could iron out my own thoughts on the matter. I came around, just in time for the first day of third grade. Yep, he started a new school year with a whole new 'do.  That boy came alive.... he fell in love with it. He has a lot of stuff he is dealing with and growing in... he is making strides and often I feel like I am "redirecting" more than I am encouraging.  Hair color makes him happy. Gives him a THING. Engages him. Makes us spend two uninterrupted hours trapped in the bathroom together. It was a keeper.

Thus began our saga of bright colored hair. Blue remained for while. More recently purple reigned. Pink is the current infatuation. I knew it would get here... in my heart I knew..... and I kinda resisted it. Even way back when I was workin' through how I felt about blue I briefly thought, "what if he wants to go pink?" but I quickly pushed it out of my mind.... I wouldn't have been ready back then. But... I am now. And last night we did it.

See the thing with brilliant colored, DIY hair dye is..... it's FREAKING messy. And I am a spaz.... so its even messier with me. I tend to fling it everywhere. I make sure I have a rag soaked in bleach water to quickly rub every streak and speck, wipe every drip and dribble that hits the wall, floor, mirror, sink. I have even been known to scrub his nose, very vigorously, and the tips of his ears with that rag. Yesterday was awful. Awful messy. I had pink everywhere. I couldn't wipe fast enough. For a long time I was scrubbing and wiping and bleaching. I would get done, gloves off, and find another vibrant pink spot taunting me.

I finally quit, content that I had gotten all of it. His hair was perfectly glowing. He was happy. Another successful day.
I medicated.
Slept.
Somehow got through my morning

and went to the pool,
Hairy legs and all.

I actually prayed that no one I knew would come near me. I made a plan on what I would do if I needed to speak to someone. I made sure we sat in the farthest recesses on "the other side of the deep end" and I settled into my book. Alone.

We had no sooner taken off our cover ups when Talon began laughing and laughing. He was laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Annoyed I looked up and saw him lying on the ground holding his belly, pointing at.... me. His giggles were coming in bursts as he tried to gasp for breath. The girls were interested now. They stopped doing cartwheels and came over to see what all the  rolling on the grass, pointing at my legs was about. "Mommmmmm, Mommmmmmm, your leg fur is pink"

And there you have it.



I took a very long intentional shower this evening. To get away. And shave. (AHHHHH)  Languid moments in bubbles are healing to my soul.

As I stood there, quiet, the water began to slowly work out my kinks, clear my mind, settle me down. I began to get a picture of how my mean and PINK leg fur and a busy week were connected.

This week I forgot to live. Instead, I merely survived.

Cutting corners, making empty promises to myself, pushing my limits of time and energy (no matter how noble and right) will always catch up to me. I had over scheduled. Under planned. I had over extended myself, emptied my bucket, said things I didn't mean, but couldn't take back. I had given, read (Brene Brown, for pete's sake) exercised, lived out of a dry and empty well.

 I cannot move forward unless I am willing to do the daily work of LIVING.


Why is it that forgiving yourself for being mean is the single most humbling experience of life?
Why does it take a melt down to snap me out of a bad rut?
When will it be habit to remember to take care of myself so I can be the best me for everyone else?
When will I catch myself before I deteriorate to furry legs and middle fingers?

I don't know.
But I am committed to moving forward. To learning the lessons of the day. To apologizing to my precious husband. And to commit, that at least for tomorrow, I will LIVE.