so here we are--or, were, a few months ago. this is the end of june, so the babes are 6.5 months, and i've just enjoyed my first post-partum haircut. this is not the best pic of the girls, but it is the first decent one of me, even with the excess pounds (but i'll save the saga of getting svelte til later). my haircut and eyebrow wax took less than two hours, but boy were the babes ready for my return (i haven't yet gotten into how/why they won't take bottles). it was the first time i left them for "me." i'd gone to the grocery alone twice before they were two months (when they did take bottles) and then to the dentist a few times (when we discovered they would no longer take bottles)--all in all, not very exciting events. and we co-sleep. and the girls have only taken a handful of naps by themselves, so when someone describes being a stay at home mom as a full-time job, it's accurate. the thing is, now i don't know what to do if the opportunity for free time were to arrive.

actually, it's here. my husband wanted to surprise me with four hours at a spa tomorrow. (i've had some extra solo baby duty lately--and some more to come, so i think it's a reward.) i talked him down to two or three hours, spread out over a couple sessions. but i'm yet to make an appointment for tomorrow. what is wrong with me? my whole life i've made massage appoinments on the sly (well, my whole married life), and now i hesitate? and i also want a facial (i think i've had one in my life, and it was lovely)--but now i'm thinking it's a waste...it'd be better to do it right before the girls' birthday party, as that's the next time i'm certainly going to see people. i guess i'm just saying i've changed, and i wonder how permanent this is. when the girls were a couple months old, i'd have to wait for days to get a ten minute bath--and god it was a heavenly luxury. now i could take a bath most nights (although the call of babes can strike at inopportune moments), but instead i clean or steam veggies for the girls or chop chicken so i can make dinner while giving the girls a snack in their high chairs. i don't want the girls to cry just so i can get a massage; but their daddy's good to them, he loves them, he can make them laugh and feed them cookies and cheese as well as i can. and they can go two hours without the boob. right? when did i become a martyr? i need to listen to myself, and i seem to be saying, i need a massage, i want a massage, i deserve a massage......i'm going to go book a massage.

wish me luck.