Day 51 A Nick and a Cut

I took my son for an overdue haircut. It’s overdue because I wanted it to grow out a bit, you know just so it’s longer on top, but clean cut on the back. No, not a bowl cut or “insert celebrity name here” cut. I don’t want them buzzing anything either. Just trim it up and clean it up. He’s got thick hair and a major cowlick, hence the longer style. If his hair is remotely short, it sticks right up, and there’s no slickin’ it down. 

Now, the interesting thing about this trip wasn’t the haircut itself. It was the tiny, little, itsy bitsy, teensy weensy, miniscule, little (did I say that one already) cut. My little imps (that’s what they become at the mall) find it very difficult to walk together without feeling the need to body check or paw at one another. So it was no surprise to me when my son found a tiny, little, itsy bitsy, teensy weensy, miniscule, little cut from his sister on his . And this happened just before going into the salon.

Oh, the drama kicked up at that point! He was cradling his injured  hand with his other hand, holding out in front him as if it just might fall off. 

Then it hit him... “Hair! What if hair gets on it from the haircut!!” 

Oh good Lord! Seriously? I should’ve seen it coming. He doesn’t love having his haircut because he can’t stand--can’t stand-- feeling the tiny hairs around his neck and getting into his ears and clothes, which is another reason why I don’t want them using clippers on him--scissors only. Seems like the loose hair isn’t so fine that way. 

“Your hand will be under the cape and it will be fine, I assure you.” He wasn’t assured. Even as he sat in the chair, while I explained how I wanted the stylist to do his hair, he was deeply concerned. I could see him fighting back tears of frustration. I knew that if I continued to discuss it, he would lose it. I excused myself to the nail polish area and allowed him to continue on without me. Sometimes, you have to know when to walk away, even if you don’t want to. 

A couple of minutes later, I heard him talking it up with the stylist. She got him out of his shell and yuckin’ it up about who knows what... I’ll never know, because my son never remembers anything when I ask him about it later. When the haircut was over, I was called over to inspect. Looked good, except guess what?! She cut him with the scissors. Just a little cut, but definitely bigger than the tiny, little, itsy bitsy, yada yada cut. Did he complain that there was hair all over it?! Nope. When the stylist asked him if he was okay, did he dramatize it? Nope, he was totally fine with it. Huh? Oh, I’m glad he was fine with it, but I just wish I could figure this stuff out occasionally. 

Can you see the nick? That little red dot down there.. see it. 

Now imagine how small the cut on his hand was!

Another problem with the stylist’s mishap is that my daughter saw that she was right after all! She specifically brought this scenario up when she got her haircut (Day 21 Shock of Hair) and I brushed it off. And today she sees her brother attacked with shears! Why does the universe see fit to prove me wrong in front of my children so frequently? 

Sigh... At least everyone walked out happy... some slightly bleeding.. but happy. That’s enough for me! I’ll smile as I smear on neosporin and hope that the scissors were cleaned after ever use.

Day 21 A Shock of Hair

When my daughter was younger, about four years old, she wanted her hair cut short like her brother’s. Her curly hair was taking forever to grow out to where it looked long at all, so I wouldn’t chop her beautiful curls for no man’s money. Then she started preschool and her little best friends had long hair, so of course, she wanted to keep her hair long, just like them. I told her that she should wear her hair the way she wants and not some way that’s popular with her friends, be yourself... but I was glad she wanted to keep it long. I loved her hair, that you could literally wrap strands around your finger and make ringlets. Then she saw the Disney movie Tangled and decided that she would never cut her hair again. She wanted to be just like Rapunzel! Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Her hair did get pretty long though. This summer, it was just about to her waist line and every inch of it began to be more tangled than it was Rapunzel. The heat, humidity and sweat wreak havoc on her curly locks and binds them up real tight. I try to keep her hair up off her neck to keep her cooler and prevent knots, but she removes hair ties when she’s had enough of them, and that takes about as long as the walk from the house to the car. Today, as I was brushing her hair and struggling to get the brush through it again, I casually suggested that perhaps we have her hair cut today. Well, she must have been pretty tired of the tangles too, because she agreed with me. Agreeing with me is shocking in itself.

As we made our way to the salon, I could tell she was getting nervous. Mainly because she said “I’m not going to be scared.” So, yes, she was scared. I reminded her that there was nothing to be afraid of and she reminded me that there were scissors involved and that she could get cut. I reassured her of her safety and we walked inside. After about five inches off, a few layers thrown in, and the cutest blow out I’ve ever seen, my girl looks renewed. She looks beautiful like always, and even a little bit older (which, I might add, doesn’t need to be sped up). I have to admit, I didn’t realize it would be that much shorter and it’s not exactly what I’d call short, it goes well past her shoulders, but the layers make it appear shorter. I wasn’t sure what she would think of it. I found out soon enough...

“My friends won’t know it’s me. Megan might not recognize me today.” Oh, boy. 

I could tell that she definitely liked her new haircut. She kept touching it with her hands, telling me not to let it get messed up and talking about how straight it was. She asked me to dry her hair this way every time she takes a shower or a bath. Gee, that sounds like fun. So I knew the style was a hit. 

“My dear, no one will struggle to know who you are. You are one of a kind and no matter how short or long your hair is, your friends will know you and love you.” 

She went to track tonight with her lovely hair down. I couldn’t get her to wear it up, she didn’t want to mess it up. She showed her coaches and friends her new hair stye , and no one had trouble recognizing her.  She ran with a little extra pep and ran for the entire 12 minutes. She laughed a lot and was tremendously happy. That made me happy... and that makes me smile.