Have you seen my marbles? Or maybe my baseball?

I wonder if I can get and manicure and pedicure when I get home from work tonight. My moms staying over so maybe she can watch Avi while I get pampered a little. My toes are queen of busted-ville right now.

I get home from work and Avi has just finished a bottle but my mom brain still worries she had missed my boobies and will starve to death while I'm selfishly getting a mani/pedi, so I force my boob at her anyways. 

I walk swiftly to the closest nail salon. The place is empty. Score. I don't have to wait. I've never been to this place before, it seems nice. I can't wait to plant my mom-shaped ass in one of those large squishy massage chairs. Yes, I said mom-shape, because even if you loose the baby weight, your body shape changes so that you can more appropriately fit into mom jeans. Totes mcgotes.

A white man sits me down to pick out my color. I ask if they're doing a manicure first because that would be crazy, and I didn't understand why I was sitting at the manicure station instead of soaking my dragon toes. The white man (I emphasize white man because in nail salons it's strange and unnatural...) tells me the girls are going to work on me at the same time. WHAT? What am I a supermodel? I mean obvi, but I was still surprised. And yes, he did refer to them as girls.

So I'm sitting in the massage chair with two women working on my hands and feet. Shit I forgot to wax. I want to explain I'm a new mom and I'm sorry for my leg bush. Wait, is that hair on my big toe? Holy hell. Who would put hair there?! I really need to pull it together. I wonder what Avi is doing. I hope she's not hungry. I'm obsessed with her hunger needs.

Then a woman asks if I would like my diamond ring cleaned. No thank you. I'm pretty sure that's a ploy to swap my diamond for some CZ garbage. God I'm an asshole, I should be less paranoid.

Wait so is this white man married to one of the Asian women working here? I creepily stare at them to piece together this puzzle. Maybe he's a polygamist married to all the girls? Or it was an arranged marriage. Shit that's racist.

The white man offers me a cup of water, which I accept and think, yes let's hydrate my boobie milk supply so I can flood Avi with my goods when I get home. I notice the girls politely smiling at me as I sip at my water. What are they smiling at? They poisoned my water so they could rob me, didn't they?

Have I lost it completely? Yeah done with the water, too risky. If they did that, would someone find my body, or would they stash it in the back of the salon? Was I always this crazy? No, this is what being an adult is like. I must look out for myself because I'm someone's mom now. Obviously. 

It's so quiet in here. Why isn't anyone else getting pampered after work? Is Avi hungry yet? I wonder what she's doing.

Is this foot massage going to trigger a let down of my milk? That would be such a waste. I also don't feel like walking home with wet bulls eyes over my hazardously large milk sacks. In all seriousness though, I hope they take credit cards here or I'll have to make a mad dash and we all know I should not run with large marge and big carol. Yes, those are the names of my new friends that take up space somewhere under my neck and above my bellybutton.

During the sleeper grip neck massage I thought again about having let down. Damn boobies. As I was leaving, white man talked to me about his loyal customers and how long they've been in business. Maybe he's not so bad after all. He does seem quite nice. I'll give a larger tip for my secret judge fest the past hour.

What day is it? Oh yeah, Tuesday. I should blog when I get home. Unless Avi is hungry, then I can feed her and then blog? 

I have lost my marbles. I'm pretty sure only crazy people have this many thoughts at once. When did I get this crazy and frazzled? Hmmm. I wonder if Avi is hungry yet. I should speed walk home.