That's It: I've Become "That Mom"

I needed my eyebrows waxed the other day. Yes, I get my eyebrows waxed. And yes, eyebrows can be waxed at a hair salon. Does it hurt? Meh, I’d argue whapping your knuckle against the dryer hurts worse and I do that a lot more than eyebrow waxing.

Anyway, it only takes five minutes or so to wax the average pair of not-that-unruly eyebrows like mine. So I brought my daughter. What? I had other errands to run. Stop looking at me like that. I strap her into the stroller, and we follow the nice eyebrow wax lady at Glitz Salon to a tiny room in the back where I pay her $17 to rip, snip, and pluck out small strips of facial hair. Usually it’s all hunky dory and everyone toddles away happy. This time I wasn’t so lucky.

As soon as I laid back on the eyebrow wax table (I’m sure it has a proper name, other than “eyebrow wax table,” I just don’t know what it is), my daughter started whimpering. Then whining. Then full-blown, arms outstretched, tears-out-of-both-eyes crying. Please stop crying, I thought. I have to get my eyebrows waxed. I’m going to the auto show. On Sunday morning. 

Let me clarify that I will use virtually anything to justify a beauty treatment. If you are a newly minted stay-at-home parent, you may recognize the metamorphosis of frivolous outings into full-blown events that require some prep work. I have curled my hair to pick up hamburger buns and get gas. Getting the dry cleaning? Put a little blush on first. You look like death warmed over.

But back to my squalling daughter. I knew one of the saner options was to pick up and leave. My other less-sane option was to pick up Alexandra and hold her while Victoria yanked my brows into perfectly arched submission. With the help of a cherry-flavored sucker, she quieted down and all was well.

As I sat statue-still on the table, I flashed back to how my former, childless self would have reacted to someone trying to combine parenting with routine facial hair maintenance. Look at her, Former Me would have hissed while enjoying my child-free blowout. She brought a child! To a hair salon! It’s as if by “child” I meant “Shetland Pony.”

When all was said and done with, I apologized to the aesthetician for all of the squabble. And thanked her for the sucker. She assured me (several times for my own satisfaction) that it was fine. No, really, it's not a big deal. I mean, it did only take a few minutes.

Bringing a toddler somewhere like that is not a habit I want to take up anytime soon, believe me. But I’ve learned not to consume myself so much with the goings on of others, and when someone gives me a smile and says, “It’s fine. Really, it’s okay,” to just believe her and don't worry about being "That Mom." Chances are, there are many others who have been there, and if they haven't, their time will come.