My Relationship with our Hair Stylist
I have an amazing relationship with our family hair stylist, hairdresser, person that controls that we don’t look like we stuck our fingers in electrical sockets. I don’t even know what her preferred title is, but she cuts the Brody Bunch’s hair.
She comes to our house at ridiculous hours to accommodate our sports, work and special occasions schedules. She tolerates that I lack the ability to schedule 6 haircut appointments in a proactive manner and she hears from me when the boys’ bangs are hanging in their eyes. She has a full book, and gets us in.
She is one of four kids, too, so I am hopeful that my unswept floors, loud children and dishes in the sink are ignored because she takes trips down her own memory lane of being a sibling of four. I am hopeful. She sees me in situations that I can control outside of my home, but not inside. We have set off fire alarms while cooking dinner, have had sibling squabbles, and we have real life happening, she gets to see the behind the scenes and she keeps coming back!
Back To School Haircuts On the Front Patio with Psychological Moments
Last night, she moved mountains to see us before the kids head (no pun intended) back to school. As I continue with my anxious flavored style of high priorities and first world problems that we need to resolve before school starts, haircuts made the priority list.
For the first time ever, we moved the makeshift hair salon out of my kitchen, it has rotated into my dining room, and setup shop outside on the patio. Our Weber grill functioned as her counter top. Much like a Barbie Dream Hair Salon, if there ever was one. I have never used our outside electrical sockets, but she did. She plugged her clippers into that socket like a boss.
And, our time together started out the same. Me: “THANK YOU for getting us in!” Her: “What do you think will happen this season on This is Us?” Me: “Pardon the house, I am on strike and am not cleaning up after anyone.” Her … she smiles and waves it off like we are the front cover of Better Homes and Gardens rather than looking like the police presumed incorrectly that we were looted.
Then we have our emotional dance. I have had the same haircut since I have been 5 years old, give or take, The kids all have incredibly thick, gorgeous hair. The boys want something besides their shag cuts, I prefer nothing high maintenance or nothing that will photograph in a regrettable image. She moderates between us. She listens to the kids and then I whisper to her to go half way. She does her magic and for their entertainment musses it up and winks at me. And, everyone looks beautiful. The kids express thank yous and we rotate everyone on and off our dining room now converted hair salon chair.
This round, unlike previous battles, I was beaten down with requests for change. Max, 10, insisted that he choose his own hair. I was frustrated. He is right, it is his own hair. So, I resigned from the unnecessary good fight, only to learn that YouTube sensations and teeny bopper pop culture icons were our new benchmark for style. O
Brody Bunch Goes Rouge
Out of the blue, my sweet Leo, wanted the haircut that his younger brother selected. I told Leo it was a bit extreme. Then, like a frat boy, Leo’s “let’s just do it!” was the Nike slogan escalated at the highest level. What is going on here? No problems, here, wink, wink! I waved my white flag. And the clipper went to work. School starts in 5 days, let’s go rouge!
So, here we are on my front porch, which we never use, and Leo is concerned that the hair, which usually falls all over my kitchen floor, and is now on our patio, is littering. Leo: “Mom, how will YOU sweep this up?” Me: “What? I don’t know. We have an outside broom, maybe we will sweep it from side to side?” Hairdresser: “It will blow away. Maybe the birds will use it?” Leo: “Is this bad for the environment?” Blanche, 12: “Will the birds be okay?” Rachel, 11: “STOP TALKING! I HAVE TO GO TO SOCCER PRACTICE AND YOU ALL ARE TAKING TOO MUCH TIME.” Max, as a reminder, still 10: “Am I going to look sexy?” All of us: “NO!!!!” And, I watched hair fall near my herb pots. So much for making pesto anytime soon.
Cutting Hair and Providing Support
Hair was going everywhere. I kept locking eyes with our incredibly talented hair artist, and she would smile and say over and over, “I promise the hair will grow back and be beautiful.” Promises!!!! I am holding onto that.
So, I am watching my taller more reserved Leo with smirks on his face, and his younger brother is crowding him looking for beard hairs. Oh, puberty is around us at the highest level. I can’t deal with first time beard hairs, if there are any, NOT RIGHT NOW.
It was over, and I survived
Finally, our magnificent hair aficionado’s work was done. Her sweet daughter who visits us every few haircuts gave me several snake eyes based upon behaviors she witnessed. I don’t blame her. And, I hope she keeps coming back. She distracts me with healthier conversation while the chaos is escalated around us. She is probably only 9. Though, she did inquire if we ever schedule cleaning days. … Honey, does it look like we do?!
Then it was time for my well oiled concluding love fest, with our kind, flexible and overly talented friend, expressing much gratitude for how we were squeezed in, thankful that she still comes to us, how this is one of the few parts of my world that is low maintenance and how much I love our new haircuts. She hugged me and told me how proud she is of me that tonight, I did such a good job and behaved. She was really proud!!!! I knew I did a good job and it showed!
We could have ended our visit, but my confident, promise maker of hair said to me: “I told my daughter that she couldn’t chop off her hair.” WHAT???? I lived through the Brody Bunch haircuts and then watched my fearless leader go 180 or 360 … however, your glass is filled half full or half empty. And, then, I was given a calendar and told to schedule our next two rounds of haircuts. I surrendered. And, we look MARVELOUS!