The Hairried Truth

Jan 6 2011

I’m not saying I have under-the-chin hairs.

Thick, black hairs that grow out of my lily white skin for everyone to see.

But, hypothetically speaking, if I did have under-the-chin hairs, I’d have to find time in my busy schedule to pluck them.

We moms are a busy breed.

We squeeze in things any way we can.

I, for example, can’t remember the last time I sat and watched an entire TV show without doing something else simultaneously.  I work on the computer, bake cookies, sew, edit photos, scrapbook, and wrap presents.  I update our calendar, pay bills, and send reminders to my husband to update our calendar and pay bills.  All of which happens after kids are in bed, of course, because I can’t even think about sitting while they’re awake.

I bet I’m normal.  I know lots and lots of moms who do the same things.

Sometimes, though, I catch myself running at my frenetic pace and dipping into a bizarre set of simultazy.  Simultazy = simultaneous + crazy.

So, say a mom has a 20 minute commute to and from her part-time job.  That’s a lot of sitting-down time.

That mom is not gonna feel like she can waste that kind of divine gift simply waiting for the light to change.

That mom might keep a permanent set of tweezers in her glove box to pluck chin hairs.  Or eyebrow hairs.  Or lip hairs.  (If, God forbid, she has some.)

Or maybe she’ll do her make-up.

Or maybe she’ll make lists of things to take on vacation.

Or maybe she’ll scribble down blog entries on stained paper found on her passenger-side floor.

That, friends, is simultazy.  That has got to stop.  That woman is nuts, and someone should tell her so.