The hair-cut...

After a few more annoying innocent comments like: "isn't SHE cute!" and "whats HER name?" from complete strangers and of course, the upcoming trip to grandma's,  it felt only right to get him his first professional haircut.  I was told of a local barber in our small downtown who actually gives "new timer's" like Greyson an official "First Cut" certificate; I was super excited with the thought of even more scrapbook material and some photo-op moments!

As we waited patiently, I observed a little boy happily licking his sucker as his long blond strands fell to the black and white checkered tile floor.  I explained to my son that he too would soon be able to sit on the big black leather chair with a big red lollipop in hand.  He grinned with delight and lifted his arms to the chair as if he couldn't wait a second longer.  Soon after, we were called up. After some quick greetings and small talk,  our Barber, Mr. S got to business.  He placed a rather large "cape"  or "big-boy bib" as he called it over Greyson and tied it around his neck and it began....  He began crying.  Not just a whiny "can-I-get-down-now?" cry, but a screeching at the top of his lungs, foaming at the mouth, body aerobics kind of scene.  Mind you, no scissors were even in sight yet!   I pulled out his beloved miniature sized wooden Thomas train, I gave him my car keys,  and even bribed him with the lollipop. All of course, without success.

Mr. S.'s shop quickly filled up with every seat taken. I felt the impending pressure on Mr. S to move along quickly.  I gained my composure and held him down tightly in the chair with no room for wiggles as the cutting began.  As I held tighter, his flailing arms and legs kicked harder and faster.   His face now the reddest shade of red I have ever seen.  He cried so hard he held his breath for a few seconds what seemed like an eternity.  Mr. S anchored Greyson's neck down to his chin like a pro. My little boy screaming, gagging to the point of visible stomach twitching as if seconds from vomiting.

Through the screaming, gagging and kicking, I thought back to the countless times I had to hold down children in the ER for administering medications, shots and sutures.  In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a connection with all of "those mom's" who seemed they couldn't "hold it together" or even those that asked us to "be more gentle" as I held their child's face while sutures were being placed centimeters above their eye.

Ahh, that life-comes-full-circle theme keeps popping up everywhere... And in that moment, I made peace with those poor moms I considered "weak" and with the memories of my past life as a "get the job done" persona,  and I did what this new me had to do.   I removed him from the chair, hugged him tightly and thanked Mr. S for a job well done despite the unfinished business. We didn't get a photo, or a certificate and his hair....well, lets just say it wouldn't win any hair-cut contests.