Friday, April 29, 2011


Yesterday I went to get my eyebrows waxed. This used to be such an easy feat. I would just make an appointment, run over after work and poof, my eyebrows would be immaculate. Toting along a very energetic six month old changes everything. Including my tip.

I met Mary at a new place, European Wax Spa. We clearly did not think this through. I assumed we go at different times and then could just take turns playing with Ela. Not the case. I could tell the waxer (what are they called???) was super excited about having a loud and slightly damp baby in the spa. I stuck Ela in her car seat, I almost knocked her out and tipped over the car seat all at the same time. I was thinking this girl must think I have never put my child in a car seat before. Once I managed to get her in I didnt think through buckling her in. In my mind she doesn’t sit up and try to escape. She is still the little three month old who was so easy to tote places.

Once I climbed up on the table and laid down I realized I no longer had a visual of Ela. Oops! At this point I am feeling so stressed and overwhelmed and just wanted this process over with! The waxer is explaining their five-point process and all I hear is wahh wahh from Ela. I'm starting to sweat because we are in a nice spa and I am sure the other women are enjoying hearing Ela fuss. The waxer keeps going "ah awe" in the fakest tone of voice each time Ela fusses. What she really means is why in the heck do you have a baby in a spa and she is seriously getting on my nerves. Then she looks over at Ela and looks at me and says "Will she tip it over?". I want to die at this point. Forget having groomed eye brows let's just call it a day and head over to Mellow Mushroom for some bacon. I slink off the table and look at my daughter. She is rocking her car seat back and forth and sitting up. She is literally about to plunge off onto the floor. I just won the mother of the year award. With wax hanging off my face I pick up my daughter and look at the waxer. Because I am already winning I just say, "Her dad was supposed to watch but had to work late." Now I seem like a unprepared, unfit teen mom. I am pretty sure last time I checked he was my husband too. I crawl back up on the table and put Ela sitting up on my belly. She still isnt happy and wants to nurse. As I am having hairs ripped out of my head my daughter is pulling my shirt down and forcefully making her way to my boobs. Winning. I give her my sunglasses to entertain her until this torture is over. She sticks the ear piece down her throat and gags. Really?

Moral of the story is dont take a baby to a spa. Lesson learned.