When concerned, threaten their very, little, lives.
Having a hair style crisis this last few weeks. Heck, I’m having an everything vanity-associated crisis. Upon turning 35 in December, my clothes don’t fit right, my hair is too 80s, the 10 pounds I’m always trying to lose, just infernal. And my daughter. She. is. just. gorgeous. Really. Other people say that, not just her grandmoms. And I’m starting to get jealous. Sick, huh.
Any way, so I made a hair appointment 911 call to my girl (I never know what the PC term is, kind of like, is stewardess/steward insulting now? Or is it server or waitress, or androgynous food bringing person). I said, girl, you have got to do something with the limp locks adorning my head. And I’m tired of hot rollers. She said I certainly should be, as no respectable in-style woman has used hot rollers since 1989. And even then, only in the south. Oh. So anyway, you’ve just got to do something, said I. So we booked an appointment.
As luck would have it, the three people I normally call to keep the children were all previously engaged, and I had to either A. take all three with me (10, 8 and 5, with really, the 5 yr. old being the issue, he’s like triplets all by himself), or B. Skip my desperately needed Hair Update. I took them. So Privates One, Two and Three were given their backpacks with school work and puzzle books, some change for the vending machine and the statement from me, that I, Captain Mom, would deliver swift and painful sentences if any behavior was displayed that made me look bad. As this, my looking bad in front of other people, was really all I am interested in. And they. would. not. do. that. to. me. And if they commited this heinous crime of mutiny, they would be very very sorry. And don’t distract my girl. She has scissors at my hair.
All the way over we drilled. Will we, for instance, climb all over the going up and going down chair, and fall out, taking a shelf of shampoos and frizz controls down with us? Nooooo mam, we will not. Check. Will we, say, alternately squirt conditioner and curling gel from the $28 bottles while Mommy’s head is under the drier and she can’t beat see you? Absolutely not. Of course not. Or, will we swap the contents of one hair stylist’s cabinet with contents kept under the sink, in the ladies’ room? We. would. never, they say innocently. Sure. Unfortunately, these things have been known to happen.
I park the car. Rapid fire repeat pertinent questions. Gather munitions and move out. As we enter the salon, each child gets one more penetrating gaze, which silently warns you will be sorry. Besides, I’ve said before, do you want to be those wild unsocialized unruly homeschoolers so many people expect? But what am I saying. These are the children that have each, at one time or another, thrown themselves in front of a moving grocery cart, screaming I WANT SUGAR CEREAL, albeit, they were much younger. But we can’t go back now. My girl sees me, and my children, as do the other stylist and clients, and I can feel the eyeballs follow us through the shop. It’s noon, after all, when few respectable children are not sitting at their desks in some school somewhere. Private One said he could actually hear some murmering. I threw out my chin, thought a desperate prayer, and ushered the children up the stairs and to my girl’s room.
And you know what? They. were. perfect. Each did what was brought along for them to do. Each kept their inside voices. Their manners, and their sweet attitudes. There was one minor Coke spill, but it was just an accident. No harm, no foul. Private Three (the 5 year old) even held the dustpan for my girl when she was cleaning up. What an impression that was, let me just tell you. And I, well I just smiled oh, yes, they are wonderful, yes, always a joy, hhmmm, yes homeschooling can just be amazing, well, we have a system, yes, very organized I must be, no, I suppose not, not every one is cut out for this, yes, probably through highschool, no, I just can’t imagine doing anything else, (other than run fast, in the direction away from my home, naked if necessary) just adorable, yes he is. As. if. it. were. ALWAYS. this. way. Ha. But boy, for one 2 hour span of time, they were in their glory. And I couldn’t be prouder. Made me look good. And my hair? Not so bad either. Kind of adds a Jennifer Love Hewitt thing to my look. More bang. Piece-y. Although, I’m much more attractive. Except for these 10 pounds. And the boobs. And the constant squinting when I speak. And oh, the seeing the ghosts thing.
