The Joy of a Frizzy Ponytail

I was running those annoying little evening errands when I suddenly took notice of my daughter. Really - she was a wreck. She had changed into this pair of khaki shorts after school and all four pocket flaps were turned up and the pockets were inside out. She was wearing high-heeled dressy mary janes and had some sort of orange stain on one side of her mouth. And her hair - oh.....oh, her hair. I had put it in a nice, neat, high ponytail this morning. At this point, there were clumps of it that were pulled halfway out like majestic, rolling hills. Her hair is also curly, so it was kind of tufted and frizzy all over.
Then I looked at my son. He was still in uniform, sort of. His shirt was way untucked, except for one spot to the left in the back. His shirt was pretty stained, though. It was nearly gray in all of the expected places and had mysterious brown marks all over the front. Probably some chocolate type of lunch box exchange. His hair had been neatly spiked up in just the front this morning. It was now matted down and spiked out mainly over his ears.
Just as I was about to slink off into a corner and give them both a spit bath and a hair adjustment, it occurred to me that those are all the marks of fun. They have both been playing really hard and working hard too. Neither one of them gave a thought to the fact that the evidence of such important work should be shameful. How nice! I decided to leave them be and proudly parade my two little rugrats through Blockbuster, regardless of who I might run into that I haven't seen in years (that happens to me a lot, since I grew up in this town).
Then I looked down at myself. I was wearing my mom shoes - sensible fabric flats with little flowers on them. My jeans were kind of sagging by this time in the day and gave me a noticeable muffin-top around the waist band. And my shirt had a big tomato stain in a socially unacceptable place somewhere around the top/left/front. And my hair - oh.........oh, my hair. My ponytail looked a lot like Emma's. I decided that this, too, was evidence of the fun I'd had today. I had lunch with my mom and bumped right into my BLT while I was laughing at some silly song she made up at the table and sang without thought to who might listen. My mom really can't sing either. My ponytail was in bad shape because I had been shopping for work clothes and tried on at least two dozen shirts. I have a new job that I'm excited about and nothing to wear. My jeans.....well, I have no real excuse for them, other than the fact that they're comfy.
So, I proudly paraded myself through the grocery store, knowing that most of the other moms there looked just as bad. And you know what? They probably had lots of fun and worked really hard too. And all of you girls out there that still go to the grocery store looking good.....take it easy on us. Your turn is coming.

DAILY BLISS: Shopping with my mom! She'll always tell me if I really do need to buy the next size up, and somehow manage to still make me feel like I'm beautiful.

<3 Christy