I bought a curling iron so I could make my hair look like Kelly Ripa’s.

(I wonder what I have to buy to make my arms look like hers?) 

I bought nail polish in lovely summer colors—aqua, coral, sage—so I can still wear sandals and never step foot inside of a salon.

So you can see how I feel like I should be rewarded here, yes? I’m saving money! I’m saving time! I am like a budgeting superhero! I need a cape.

And yet.

My plan seems to have backfired a little bit.

“Mama! Can you curl my hair?”

“Mama! Can you paint my toes?”

“Mama! Can you curl my hair?”

“Mama! Can you paint my toes?”

“Mama! Can you curl my hair?”

“Mama! Can you paint my toes?”

Lather, rince, repeat.

Nineteen thousand times. 

I’m fairly certain that over this weekend alone I have painted 95 nails and curled 433 locks of hair.

None of them were my own, mind you.

Perhaps if I could learn to wax eyebrows I could start a new career.

It will be called Truvy’s.

OBVIOUSLY.