I measure that kid’s life in hair. Upon first glimpse, raw red scalp. A dozen weeks later, still in hospital, an elder-style ring of orange fuzz ran around back from ear to ear, then bald again. Next came yellow curls that we grew out like Kelsey Grammer. Our towhead’s curls turned brown in a few years, just as each of his parents’ did.
And here and there we made the kid cut his hair.
Readers with sensory kids know: it’s a struggle. It’s an itchy battle! Donning the crinkly plastic cape, getting your neck brushed with powder, smelling the smells and hearing all the sounds: running water, snipping scissors, buzzing clippers, spritzing, spraying, squirting and drying. But by some miracle we had moved in next door to an angel.
She’s a good natured hairdresser with a quick laugh and a back porch. When it was time, she would — and still does — cut our hair. Sometimes we’d all be on the back porch, two chatting neighbor families. Hair clumps got tossed in the yard so birds could feather their suburban nests. Rarely, we’d visit her shop. Sometimes we’d be in the basement watching her adult son play video games. She’d laugh at our exploits, ask about the sibling rivalry, and put up with wiggling kids.
And every time, she snipped away a little more boyhood. She transformed my wee bairn into something closer to a man, and I cried every. single. time. Including tonight. Many times, she welled up, too. We agree that we spent too much time being overwhelmed, juggling, multitasking.
Click To Tweet: We were shocked to find out “this ain’t no Gerber commercial!”
But she was further along the parenting path; she knew. She had us over for dinner frequently after our 40-minute commute from the city. I was (and still am) an older mom, and it was like an hour-long vacation! Not a care in the world! Haha. Thank you for that, darling neighbor. Thank you for supporting me through those early, harried, commuting-with-babies years.
And if you, dear reader, are needing someone to have your back, to help solve the daily puzzles of working mom life, I’ve got you. Sleeping, not sleeping, work, daycare, diagnoses, food, dare I suggest menopause?
Email me at Funnermother@Funnermother.com to schedule a free 20-minute call, and let’s chat. I have an array of coaching options, and I want to help.