A Girl Can Dream…

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I wake up and there is no noise. It’s ten o’clock. No one has come in demanding milk, food, TV. It’s blissfully quiet. What happened? Was it all a dream?

No. Husband took the boys this morning. Even the baby. They are off on an adventure somewhere far away. I have an appointment to keep, so I throw off the covers and grab a solo cup of coffee. Solo. Cup. Of. Coffee. It’s like Christmas morning for moms.

I go to my hairdresser. She washes and massages my scalp. She conditions my brown hair. Back in the chair, we gossip as she snips my hair into the perfect cut. She dries it and styles it in such a way that you know you’ll actually be able to recreate it every morning.

After this, it’s pedicure time. I relax in the vibrating chair that somehow always manages to hurt slightly but I don’t care because no one has asked me to wipe their butt today. The day isn’t over yet, but I don’t think the manicurist will be the one to request this.

I choose a kicky pink color for my toes and sip diet Coke from McDonald’s because everyone knows it’s the best. My feet are massaged and rubbed with emollient. I feel kind of like Jesus, if Jesus liked pink toenails and diet Coke.

Now it’s time for dinner. I go to my favorite restaurant and order my favorite dish. I eat while reading my current book. I linger over decaf coffee and then it’s time to retire.

I check into a downtown hotel. The room is tastefully furnished and the bed an oasis of white fluffy pillows and smooth linen sheets and a thick, cozy duvet. I snuggle into the pillows and pull up the duvet. I try to read but within minutes I’m snoring.

I wake late. I lounge in the sheets and order coffee and breakfast. I debate staying here forever.

But alas, it’s time to return to reality. Back to wiping butts and noses (not with the same tissue). Back to pouring milk into sippy cups. Back to my boys.

 

*None of these events have actually occurred except in the writer’s imagination.

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