There's nothing like a few days away with friends in Vegas and a new snappy haircut to remind me that I haven't had my mojo sucked out of me by Dr. Evil, or in my life, Dr. "parenting three awesome but incredibly challenging children."
Of course now you've got to pump your boobs before dinner and you're more concerned with the comfort of your shoe and not the size of its heel.
But even with a pair of uneven tits and flat gladiator sandals, I was able to get a little swing back in my step and a hair toss that made short drunk men try to pick me up in the middle of the Hard Rock Hotel.
"Hey big mama!"
What's amazing is that I spent most of the days leading up to the trip talking myself out of going. It's easy to tell yourself that it's just too hard to get away - what if Margot doesn't stop crying? What if the kids don't listen?
This infinite list of "what ifs" almost renders me powerless.
I've been refining the art of the Type-A Mom lately, much to my chagrin. It's not that surprising, considering I'm a Type-A personality in everything except when it comes to letting out the dog and putting my shoes away. But the more I'm home alone with the kids and the less I get to go out and leave them with someone else (including their own father), I'm becoming stuck in a vacuum of "my way is the only way."
Thankfully, my former self combined with my tired mom who needs and deserves a little time away self kicked that controlling, anxious "bitch" in the ass and dragged me (mostly uncontested) to a completely unsponsored *gasp* trip to a trade show in Vegas with a few of my dearest friends.
That doesn't mean I escaped the desperate 11pm "Margot won't stop crying" texts from my husband or the sore, engorged boobs.
But it's a small price to pay for a few days where I get to dress up, wear make-up, and soak up the company of truly awesome women.
And I'm amazed at how treating myself to a little love and attention can make me ready, even grateful, to go back to providing love and attention to others on a 24 hour basis.