Remember the days before kids when you could easily spend most of a Saturday in a hairdressing salon getting your hair cut and coloured? Sipping the fancy herbal teas, lazily flicking through magazines, and drifting into a blissful chill zone while you’d get a head massage? Yeah, it’s a distant memory for me too.
After I had my first child I was kinda bamboozeled about how to find time to get to the salon. I remember having to time appointments between breastfeeds, and once even getting my husband to bring the baby into me for a feed – yup, I fed bub in the middle of a bustling salon tucked strategically under the black gown they make you wear, while trying not to suffocate him, and rolling my eyes at the image reflected in the mirror in front of me.
As time went on, visits to the salon became further and further apart because I just couldn’t justify the time it took. Not to mention the expense. Downing a couple of hundred bucks on a cut and colour just couldn’t be justified anymore on one income.
Photos of me at my son’s Christening are a testament to this. I swear it was probably the worst hair day of my entire life, a culmination of nearly 5 months without a colour, grey flecks peeping through, my hair looking dull and straw-like.
Fast-forward ten years and it’s far easier to get to the hairdressing salon for a few hours. In most instances I bring my boys with me and they happily play on their iPads while I’m getting my hair sorted. This has been going on for the last few years, so much so that the staff there know not only my kid’s names, but they way they like their hot-chocolates and their favourite bickies. Yet being interrupted mid head massage by a little voice lisping “Mummy, I need to pee!” is far from relaxing.
And now – I don’t know if it’s just my old age kicking in or the fact that the boys are asking me more challenging questions as time ticks on, but those pesky grey hairs are popping up faster than ever.