Sunday, July 22, 2007
What is that?
Rant of the Day
I was simply trying to enjoy a few minutes of zen. It is an act I try to perform daily, but sometimes gets missed in the chaos. It is an act that is good for my personal well being, but also important for those standing down wind of me. If you don't have young children this act of zen is more simply known as taking a shower. But yesterday, my moment was abruptly ruined when Scott walked into the bathroom with a collection of something light brown in his hands.
"What is that?" I ask.
"Sarah cut her hair" He responds.
"Sarah cut her hair."
"She what!" I ask again, even though I heard him clearly the first time.
Faster than Clark Kent turns into Superman, I was dry, dressed, and fully into damage control mode. How much had she cut? How bad did it look? When did we have our next round of pictures scheduled? How am I going to explain this to the grandmas?
Before all those questions were answered, I was on the phone confirming that both of the local kid hair cut places had no wait and needed no reservation. Sarah, now realizing the permanence of her momentary fun with the scissors, was hiding under a blanket and crying - refusing to let me see the damage. There was no need to raise my voice or yell, her self-inflicted cropped hairdo was punishment enough.
I usually don't think of myself as a vain person. I don't have cute clothes and often skip the whole makeup thing. But a little cloud of sadness burst upon me when Scott told we what he held in his hand. I have been patient - three and half years patient. Sarah was the poster child for bald babies a trait that lasted well into her toddler days. And when she finally grew a few locks they arrived in a mullet. In fact her hair three weeks ago was the first time that we had EVER cut the sides of her hair. She finally had girl hair, a fact of which Sarah and I were so proud. Finally, a chance to wear all the hair ribbons and bows that the other girls have donned since birth.
There was no time for wallowing. OK, there was a bit of wallowing, but I had to get to the kiddie salon. Keys in my hand, purse on my shoulder, we were out the door in a flash. All the lights were green on the way and we pulled right up to the salon and to my amazement there was no wait. But then I realized that I had a purse but no wallet. No way to pay. And as sorry as Sarah's hair looked the weren't giving out cuts for free.
Back in the car, back to the house, and back to the salon again. Now I have been in the car an hour, my melancholy is getting over powered by my PMS, and I am becoming a bit mean. We are back to the salon and there isn't a customer in the place. But the girl at the front desk, she looks about 18 and has all the attitude that goes with it, tells me that they are booked full and can't squeeze us in. But there isn't a customer in the place. She says it doesn't matter. But I called and they said I didn't need an appointment. She says it doesn't matter. I say I am a mom who's daughter just cut her own hair with scissors. She looks at Sarah and laughs and says it doesn't matter. I tell her that she can kiss my ass and storm out the door. OK, that was not exactly my shining moment of tact, but don't insult an Italian mother's child, especially an Italian mother with PMS.
So now we are back in the car again. I am trying to explain to Sarah that I am mad at the girl at the salon, but she doesn't understand and just whimpers in the back. The other kiddie salon is the in the complete opposite direction - 40 minutes later we arrive at the door. The person at the front desk is a woman - a mother - no attitude at all - just sympathy and a smile for Sarah's new hairdo. The wait is 30 minutes, but thanks a little kindness and a couple of calm minutes, Sarah and I both settle down. The stylist did a good job of getting a pretty cute (though, of course, short) cut out of a bad mess.
We wasted 4 hours and a bunch of gas getting the problem fixed. Though Sarah is still a little sad that she won't be donning a pony tail any time in the near future, she is proudly telling everyone that she now has a pixie. As for me, I realized today that short hair is a lot easier to keep neat. Plus, I am holding out that Jaley's hair comes in thick and quick, because I don't want to wait another three years for Sarah's to grow out.
That's life in the stroller lane. Lots of love.