The Anatomy of a Haircut or The Longest Post I Have Ever Written

When you have six children and five of them are with you all day and those same five with-you-all-day children are all under seven years of age

simple tasks become large hurdles to overcome.

Or avoid.

Tasks such as stopping by the post office to mail a package or to buy stamps.

(So if you ever receive a letter from the House of Keigley then that might explain the outdated contents you may discover inside.)

Tasks such as running into the grocery store for a gallon of milk.

Going to the dentist for yourself.

Shoe shopping for rapidly growing small feet.

Or getting a haircut.

Getting a haircut is kind of a funny thing really.

Well, it is for me.

I’m kind of obsessed.

And impulsive.

When it comes to hair, I mean.

My hair, I mean.

For most of my life (barring like birth to third grade when I was not making my own hair choices) I have sported rather short haircuts.

About two years ago I decided I was done with short.

I wanted long.

So.

I waited.

Because that’s how hair grows – right?

By waiting

and avoiding scissors

and wearing lots of headbands and buffs and barrettes and hats.

And then one day I looked in the mirror and realized

I had long hair.

It was sitting over my shoulders even.

Genuinely long hair.

I was surprised.

I had fun braiding it and wearing a ponytail  and twirling it around my fingers.

But then one day

just as suddenly

I decided I was tired of long hair.

(That was yesterday, I think.)

Now, here’s the funny thing.

When I had made the decision to cut my hair

I wanted the task over then.

You know, immediately.

But a haircut is not an impulse decision at this house.

Because wherever I go, five little humans go with me.

And my experience has taught me that five kids and a salon are not the best of buddies.

(And I really like to get the most out of my salon experience.  No skip-the-shampoo for me.  No I’ll-blow-dry-it-at-home rush job.  No way.  That’s not how I roll people.)

I can’t resist sharing how the haircut experience broke down.

Get ready.

(I think the arm warmers I am wearing right now are making me feel verbose and smarmy.  My apologies.)

9 a.m. Remark to Kevin about the disparity between our daily lives.  How he can make a simple decision about getting a haircut and immediately take action.  How I need to arrange universes to collide to make a hair appointment.  And then cancel it twice before I actually arrive at the salon.

10 a.m. Decide to call favorite salon and schedule an appointment for Saturday when Kevin will be off from work.

10:03 a.m. Talk to favorite salon.  Discover favorite stylist of past two years moved to New York City since my last haircut.  Ask for Saturday appointment.  Realize the kids have a science lab scheduled for Saturday morning.  Fumble around on the phone as if I have never made outside contact with a professional person before via telephone.  Share way too many details about the struggle I have to make a hair appointment.  Somehow get persuaded to try new stylist and bring kids with me that very day because the self-assured voice on the other end declares, “People bring their kids in all the time.”

10:12 a.m. Gather troops together and hand out assignments to make our departure more effective.  Mosely – gather jackets.  London – pack a bag of graham crackers for Otto’s snack.  Berg – put shoes on your own two feet.  Piper – gather a few granola bars in your mini backpack to share.

10:25 a.m. Discover London gave Otto graham crackers instead of putting them in a bag.  Fifteen graham crackers. Discover Piper filled backpack with twelve granola bars and a bag of marshmallows.

10:45 a.m. Exit our home.  Drive to town.

11:15 a.m. Arrive at town.  Circle Main Street for a parking place.

11:20 a.m.  Offer children heartfelt and awe-inspiring speech about obedience and helpfulness.  Offer children additional speech about bribing them with candy for good behavior.   Hazily recall there being a time I thought parents who resorted to bribery were doing a bad thing.

11:30 a.m. Stop at Mast General Store to allow children to choose a small toy or candy.  Spend $7 on magnetic doll face (think Wooly Willy), sweet tart chap stick, a lollipop and a balsa wood plane that I feel confident will not survive the end of this day.

12:15 p.m. Make our way to salon.  Reiterate earlier speeches delivered in the car.  (See 11:20 a.m.)  Hand out snacks, coloring paper, crayons and offer a pink lemonade lollipop to a one-year-old boy who has never been allowed to hold a lollipop before.

12:30 p.m. Cross my fingers and close my eyes as the lavender scented towel is placed over my face and my head is lowered back into the salon’s sink.

12:40 p.m. Glance in surprise at my five children sitting quietly, sucking lollipops, yes – eating marshmallows, coloring with crayons and chatting politely with strangers.

12:42 p.m. Enjoy a leisurely haircut and chat with new stylist.  Run down the long list of my children’s names at the request of said stylist.  Gain bangs.  Lose six inches of hair.  Marvel at the fact that five children are still doing what they were doing earlier – behaving.  Even Hawkeye – who was under strict orders to not fly his new balsa wood plan in the salon.  Have time for the stylist to blow dry my hair and even give me tips on how to replicate this do at home.  (Which I am hopeless at following.  Always.)

1:20 p.m. Help children gather their art supplies.  Shove a wipe through Otto’s fingers which are absolutely gelled together with sticky pink lemonade residue.  Exit salon with a new haircut and a foolishly large smile at the apparent success of such an adventure.

1:28 p.m. Enter McFarlane’s Bakery and purchase a donut for each child for $3.24.  (Part Two of The Bribe.)

Total spent  – $10.24.  (Not including the haircut.  Obviously.)

Cheaper than a babysitter – wouldn’t you agree?

And impulsive to boot.