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Winter Is Coming


The Ups, Downs and Sideways of Working Motherhood

Winter Is Coming

Alex Steinman


It's been a minute since my last post. Between ALLERGY WATCH 2015 (intensely staring at Cooper after he eats a cracker) and TRAVEL MARATHON 2015 (bouncing back and forth to Denver for a new client), I've barely had time to pee. I also was hit with a wicked cold on Wednesday. I turned into a swamp monster, rising from the depths covered in death and snot. I tried to work in the office on Thursday, but the concerned looks I received from my makeup-less, hollow face told me to stay home on Friday.

And that’s what I did.

Surrounded by a minefield of tissues, I mission controlled the workday parked underneath a throw, Rachael Ray on mute in the background. She made some delightful looking pigs in a blanket, while I looked like one.

It’s no surprise I’m falling apart at the end of the year. It’s right about now that I typically let myself go. Hair maintenance is at a low point, and I’m starting to get squishy. I’m not fishing for compliments; I actually enjoy an extra layer for winter. Plus, sweaters, so...

The downside to this annual routine is that I have a tiny human now, which means I never really have it together. My 5 months of winter hibernation has turned into a year-long scrub fest.

Bear Grills couldn’t find his way out of my face-forest.

Noticing I could use some TLC, my parents took me to brunch and offered to watch the baby. Matt spent the day installing our new IMAX TV in the basement (seriously it’s ridiculous), and I got cleaned up.

I started with a massage at Lifetime’s LifeSpa in St. Louis Park. It’s the only place I can get in at a moments notice, and I’ve always had good therapists. The head cold makes it impossible to breath through my nose, so the aromatherapy was lost on me.

I would feel bad about my wooly mammoth legs, but my massage therapist farted mid-rub. Yes, you read that correctly. It's like being a mom makes the farts follow you, even on your "day off." I was thankful to be a short-term mouth breather.

I didn’t know how to react, so I just pretended it didn’t happen. That’s probably what the therapists do when customers fart on the table…right?

I’m 98% sure it wasn’t me.

I finished the day with a mani/pedi, and I feel like I can take on the world. It's amazing what a fresh coat of paint and a deep tissue massage (with or without toot) can do for the spirit. I could still use some eyebrow and hair taming, but hey, you can't have it all.