Yesterday, Bode and I made peanut butter, chocolate chip, oatmeal cookies while Gianna napped. I let him lick the spoon when we were done.
When Gianna woke up, I decided Bode needed to get a hair cut. It was close to nap time for Bode (even though, he really hasn't been napping) but I decided to stretch it anyway. We drove all the way to the salon, and then when we pulled into the parking lot, Bode announced, "No, I don't want to. I don't want haircut." I tried reasoning with him. I tried bribing him with a muffin. I got mad and told him that he needed a haircut, we were here, and we were going to get a haircut. He cried and said "I don't want to." I thought about it being close to his nap time and figured it really wasn't so smart of me to pull this on him at such a vulnerable time. So we drove home. I was really mad at him. I hissed, "I can't believe you won't get your hair cut!" And then, a few minutes later, I realized I was really mad at myself for (foolishly) thinking that I could do this so close to a nap. Our drive home was absolutely silent. We got home and I put him to bed immediately. He didn't sleep.
That afternoon, we went to a play date with Bode's 'birth mate' Derek, and friend Jack. We met at a park that had zero shade. It was hot and too sunny. Bode and Gianna were both covered in sunscreen, but the sun exposure was too intense. I had put Gianna in a sleeveless romper. I didn't like how exposed she was, so, from my purse, I pulled out a pair of pants and long-sleeved top that didn't match.
 |
| Bode and Derek |
 |
| Gianna in Bode's old sunhat. |
Bode left the play date in good spirits, and when we were driving home, he announced, "Go get haircut." I eyed him in the rearview mirror. "Really?" I asked. He nodded and said, "Bode go get haircut." So I turned the car around and drove to the salon. It was close to dinnertime, but I thought I would seize the opportunity while he was in good spirits.
What is the definition of insanity? --doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results. We pull into the salon parking lot, and Bode starts crying. He tells me that he doesn't want to get his haircut. I get mad and tell him that I drove "all this way because you said that you wanted to get your haircut. Now let's get your haircut!" I unloaded everyone and we went into the salon. Bode cried. Then he peed. We went to the bathroom and cleaned up. I changed him into new clothes. We re-introduced ourselves to the stylist. Bode continued to cry. So we left. This time, I wasn't mad at him. I wasn't mad at myself either. I just knew that I had made a mistake, listening to, and following, a 2 year old's suggestion. I shrugged it off and told myself to find the right time.
This morning, we went on our usual walk with Priscilla. While walking, I decided a morning appointment for a hair cut would be perfect. I called the salon for an appointment. I was told that there were no appointments available, but if we got there in the next few minutes, we would be squeezed in for a haircut. I was about 15 minutes away from our house, but I hoofed it back as fast as I could. While I walked, I talked to Bode about the hair cut again. He seemed agreeable. But, we weren't in the parking lot of the salon, were we?!
We get to the salon, and Bode makes noises about not wanting to get his haircut. I cajole him as we walk over. He is not crying but he isn't exactly over-joyed, either. We walked into the salon and there was a child screaming her head off. She was screaming, crying and thrashing around. Not exactly the picture that I want to present to Bode. I direct Bode over to the train table. I look over at the crying child, and see that she is in her mother's lap. Her mother is holding onto her tightly and another woman is holding the baby's legs down while the stylist is snipping away at her hair. The child is crying so loudly that it hurts my heart. When the receptionist asks for my name, I literally have to hold my index finger up so that I can take a minute to compose myself and swallow the lump in my throat before answering. [side note: my mother always winces and looks upset when she hears a child crying, and usually always murmurs something like, "oh no, please don't cry." I never understood this response by my mother. Until now. Now, I hear a child crying and my immediate response is tears. I hate hearing a child in distress!] The receptionist tells me that we have a 40 minute wait, but we can leave and come back in 30 minutes. I grab the opportunity to get Bode away from the drama of the screaming child. We walk over to a cafe for a muffin and a mocha.
--Hi. My name is Heather, and I'm a judgmental person.
--Hi, Heather.
And here is where I put on my name badge: Judgey McJudgerson. Is it really worth it to put your kid into so much emotional upheaval and drama for a hair cut? Is it really necessary to hold your child in a body-lock for her bangs to be trimmed? Or ask another mom to hold her legs down? I drove to that stupid salon twice and turned around and drove home twice, because Bode cried and didn't want to get his hair cut. I just didn't think it was worth the drama. Maybe I am too easy. But the scene before me at the salon, of the screaming baby being held down? I realized that I was totally cool with my laid-back approach to Bode's haircut. As frustrating as it was for me to drive back and forth (and I realize not very many people have the time for that), I am glad that I don't have to "force" Bode to get his hair cut.
So what happened? As we were walking back into the salon, a mom from Gianna's playgroup was walking out with her 16 month old daughter. We exchanged pleasantries, and then the mom announced that her daughter was "throwing an absolute fit" in the salon, and told me, "she was trying to kick the scissors out of the stylist's hands, so another mom had to hold her legs down." I mumbled something about how tough that must have been, and congratulated the baby on her pretty hair cut. That was the mom and the baby? The scene inside did not match the mom and baby on the outside, the two people we see on Friday play dates. I like this mom from Gianna's playgroup. She seems mellow and well, crunchy, in a cool way. So I don't know how to explain the dramatic scene that unfolded inside the salon. Maybe it was just a bad day for everyone. Or maybe that's the way things are done in her house. And I guess that's just it: I can't explain it. Just like I can't explain my behavior, my parenting style, etc. toward Bode and Gianna either. There are many moments that I am not proud of, many moments that I would like to request a "do-over" and there are moments, late at night, when I feel like the worst excuse for a mother. I want to do the best for them. I hope, most days, just by trying, I succeed. And I'm sure that the other mom feels the same.
--Thanks, Heather.
So what happened with Bode? He was great. He got a little upset in the beginning, but then was distracted by the cartoon on the tv monitor. He squirmed a few times, but the stylist was able to work with him easily.
 |
| Looking absolutely tortured, but that really was not the case! |
And somebody else got her bangs trimmed! It was a spontaneous decision, as I swiped her bangs out of her eyes yet again. And you know what? She wasn't upset in the least. In fact, she kept smiling up at the stylist as the stylist snipped away. It was pretty funny. It's like she knows that she's got a lifetime of beauty appointments ahead of her, and is ready to get started. Unfortunately, because I was in such a RUSH! to get to the salon to snag a walk-in slot, Gianna showed up in mismatched pajamas! But, as the stylist remarked, "Doesn't matter, because she is still beautiful."
 |
| Love that belly! |
 |
| Bow added by the stylist |
The tiny snippets of Gianna's baby hair are saved in a plastic baggie. And I am so happy to not have to brush the hair out of either baby's eyes. Happy Thursday, everyone.
xo
No comments:
Post a Comment