Saturday, December 6, 2008

Laid Back Mom

There are a lot of words that might be used to describe me, laid back are not two of them used together. On the laid back / control freak continuum, anyone who has read my blog for more than 8 seconds knows which side I lie nearer to.

Which makes an experience I had last summer all too amusing. We were at a park on a Saturday afternoon. We call it 'bike camp park' because, and you'll never guess this, it's the park where the kids take bike camp in the summer. It has a mega parking lot (bike track) a mini soccer field, great climbing apparatuses (spell check says that word is right, but I want to write apparatae) and a forest where mysteries are concocted and solved. What is not to love?

On this day, we just got to park when S pointed out that we had forgotten the soccer ball at home and on this particular July day, that is what she desperately wanted to play. Husband obligingly went home for it not because our kids call the shots (though they often do). We wanted the kids to burn a lot of that summer weekend energy and if a soccer ball will be an aid to accomplish that task, then we are on board. I took my post as playground monitor.

The kids were climbing on the structures and slides and having a good time, pretending to be barely hanging on, as they must because below them is hot lava. For some reason I had a magazine to read. I pretty much never have a magazine to read while I am at the park hoping to prevent head injuries and broken bones. It's not that I don't like to read magazines, or have any concern that I couldn't watch out for my children's safety while reading what Oprah's favourite things are. I'm just not organized enough (a) to remember to grab one or (b) to be able to find one. Don't ask me how my disorganization broke down that day and I happened to have one.

We had the bike camp park to ourselves for a while when another Mom arrives with two like-sized kids in tow.

"Twins?" I asked, seeing a bit of resemblance.

"No", she shudders and points to one of them," the neighbour's kid".

I turn back to my magazine trying to divine just how many more kids the Jolie-Pitts will have when S grabs onto a bar and takes her feet off the platform and dangles. Her feet are 12 inches from the 6 inches of wood chips, I mean lava below. She is fine.

Mother-not-to-twins puts her hands protectively around our adorableness and says to her:

"Wow, your Mom is laid back".

I look up from my magazine and inwardly smile. It is the first and likely last time I will hear that (and I finally found someone even less laid back than me).

And if you happened to be a fly on the wall at the kids haircut place this morning, you would have borne witnesses all my naked-unlaidbackness.

I noticed the new kids 'haircut store' earlier in the week. I've already tried 2 local ones and mostly given up on them. I was thrilled to find a new one. So this morning after pottery/hip hop classes we set off to get Christmas haircuts.

There are 2 hair cutters which I don't like because I cannot watch them both at the same time, which, portentously, turned out to be the problem.

S was first in the race car chair. I said to hair cutter #1 "an inch and a half". S has a pretty simple bob with bangs. I just needed to come to a common agreement on what an inch and a half is. Hair cutter #1 picks up S's hair and showed me her version of an inch and half. By my eye is was more like 3 inches. I showed her what my 1.5 inches looks like and she gets to work.

Meanwhile J boy has climbed into the go kart chair. His haircut is a little more difficult to explain. I should add at the risk of being considered xenophobic, that Hair cutter #2 and I do not share our mother tongues so clear communication was another challenge. I said to Hair cutter #2 "short, but not a buzz cut". She had the electric clippers going before I was finished my sentence. I had a few more phrases to add that will surely be needed to fully understand the look I am going for, like "not super short" and "cut a bunch but not all of it". I interupt the buzzing to clarify that she wasn't going to buzz his entire head.

"No, no, scissors for the rest" she says as she adds paradoxically a different blade to her clippers and buzzes some more.

"Just to blend" she says.

A few more sized blades (or whatever you call those) and she indeed whipped out the scissors and did a creditable job.

Meanwhile I redirect my attention to the girlie goo and she has more bangs then when she started!! They are thicker and wider and I am not happy.

So I said, "I am not happy".

Hair cutter #1 looked shocked.

"You added bangs" I point out.

"Her face is so small, she needs more bangs" is followed by a denial that there has been added bangage.

"No more bangs. No more bangs.", she attempts to persuade me.

"I'm her Mother. I know she had more bangs before" I said venomously.

After a long back-and-forth between Hair cutters #1 and #2 which is in a language I don't understand, Hair cutter #2 issued the final edict "no more bangs". I think she meant to reassure me.

So I reached to the pile of adorable hair on the floor, and picked up a piece and fit it like a puzzle into place where there are now bangs. "See" I say rather smugly.

Hair cutter #1 is at a loss for words. It may have been that she was embarrased at being proven wrong. More likely, she has never had a parent pick up a piece of cut hair from the floor when it was not destined for a baby keepsake album.

"I'm sorry", she said and meant it.

She's just lucky that S is adorable in any hairstyle.

1 comment:

Sherry said...

She is, indeed, still adorable, but the bang difference is obvious from the picture in your previous post!