Zen and the Art of Hairstyle Maintenance

It takes two home appliances and an hour of my precious single-mother-time to make my hair look decent enough for me to leave the house without a paper bag over my head, and maybe even properly execute a sassy hair flip, if need be.

Every Monday, Wednesday and (exhaustion be damned) Friday morning you can find me barraging my scalp with hot air and then squeezing my fragile follicles between two molten hot plates at 6:00 a.m. in a cold bathroom.

Why do I torture my hair and myself like this?

Why do I keep getting this high maintenance haircut, when clearly it was designed solely for Sporty Spice by her stable of stylists?

And most importantly, why do I spend three sacred hours a week on such a selfish, trivial and superficial thing, when there are a million other things that I should be doing?

Perhaps that’s precisely why I set the alarm for an hour earlier than necessary – because there are so many things that HAVE to be done, and the wee hours of the morning belong to us parents (and Type A overachievers, but they sooodon’t count here).  Those precious few hours of quiet are where the world is our oyster once again.

It’s the time when you can triumphantly cross laundry off your to-do list, or read a book without pictures, or eat that frozen candy bar for breakfast in plain sight and not fear the dreaded question, “What are you eating, Mommy? Your breath smells like chocolate.” Yes, the morning is a glorious and sacred time for parents.

I used to wake up as a child to find my mom in the warm kitchen reading, cooking, cleaning, completely alive and awake and happy to greet my sleepy face with open arms – and I remember thinking that she must be a lunatic.  Who gets up in a good mood before the sunrise and is excited to wash a sink full of dishes?! Well, now I know how glorious that time truly is.  It’s our time.  We can choose how to fill it.

And I choose to spend a few mornings a week getting pretty (off days get a hair clip and an Army shower).

Rather than feel guilty for primping myself amongst the wreckage, I’m embracing it for what it really is – my moment of Zen.  It’s the only time of my day where I truly am doing something for myself, by myself.  The hair dryer is warm and the sound lulls me into a state of relaxed breathing and calm contemplation – a rare commodity for this lady.  Some of my best thinking/planning/problem-solving gets done during this time of focused quiet and I’ve come to really value it.

Admittedly, I usually end up burning my fingers on the flat iron, and by the time I get to the unruly front curls I’m ready to shave my head with a Bic and join a convent.  BUT, before that point, I do have my Zen time, my time to sort through all of the stuff I have to get done for others to keep their lives running smooth-ish.

It may sound silly, but doing my hair in the morning calms my mind and sets me up to be confident and ready to take on the day. I’m sure conquering the sink full of dishes did the same thing for my mom, who had four kids and always wore her hair up, or shoved into a knit cap.   Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure she didn’t even get a haircut for twenty years.  But I digress…

Doing my hair sets me up for success.  You see, all day, every day, I’m a success facilitator for those around me (never you mind that an orange has been rotting in my trunk for two months). The least I can do is take a few precious hours to do the same for myself.  And I’d like to think thatafter my morning Zen, I can face anything the day throws at me with confidence and a sassy hair flip, if need be.

Aria Marinelli is a social media maven in training and a master avoider of folding laundry.  She does not live on a lovely farm with her hunky husband and three dogs.  She works full time, blogs about her quest for happiness -and also somehow manages to be a kind-of-good parent to the smartest, most beautiful child on Earth.  She can’t, however, find the time to sweep the bathroom floor or get her two year old in bed before 10:00 p.m.  Don’t judge.