My Little Hair Helper
This weekend I HAD to go get my hair done. I mean HAD to. My hair was way grown out of its cut and I had roots that would make Madonna proud. And the following weekend I am on call, so having hair color done then is impossible. I’m sure I would no sooner have the foils on and the dye spackled all over my head that my phone would go off urgently: we have a new arrival in room 6 who is crowning! Then I would have to bolt from the room, foils, dye and all, because there would be no time to take them out. Then I would (of course) look ridiculous and my hair would turn white and all fall out because I could not get the dye removed. So no hair doing on call days. So it was this weekend or nothing.
Unfortunately, THIS weekend I was babysitting a sick daughter while my husband was out of town. There would be no leaving her home. So I hopefully loaded her up in the car with her Nintendo, after checking to make sure she did not have a fever, and headed out to do some hair errands.
On arrival we sat in the waiting room and A curled up in a chair with her Nintendo plugged in. So far so good. She was good until J called us back. Then she turned into a little whirling dervish. When J went back to mix up my hair color, A followed her to the back before I could stop her or say a word. I heard her talking loudly to J and groaned about what on earth she was saying. Of course, her first announcement was that she was sick, which made me look like a terrible mom for sure. “She WAS sick,” I made sure to say. “She doesn’t have a fever today.” Miss J looked unconvinced. I snappishly told A to stay out of the back room; that she had not been invited in there and she was to stay up front with me. I was trying to carry on a conversation with J and her mother-in-law, but A kept rudely interupting and trying to show us silly stuff. “Sit down and do your Nintendo,” I roughly told her. She asked J if she could unplug some hair stuff so she could plug it in. Then she proceeded to do nothing with it. She watched J do my foils and laughed at me. “You look funny,” she told me. “I wish I could take a picture and put it up on Facebook.” (She knows she gets put up on Facebook whenever she does something outrageous or funny). She pretended to take a picture of me with her play cell phone. “This is a play cell phone,” she told J. “Daddy has a pretend phone number and so does Mommy.” J said, “Don’t you know your Mommy’s REAL phone number?” A looked at her like she had cabbages for ears. “I’ll teach you my real phone number now,” I told her. I’d tried before. She looked at me like I had cabbages for ears too. OK. Maybe not. “Are you going to get your eyebrows waxed?” she asked me. “I want to rip the tapes off.” (J had started the unfortunate precendent of allowing her to rip my wax strips off – she sure enjoys hurting Mommy). “I’m not sure,” I told her. “I’m not sure Miss J has time.” “Oh, we have time,” said J cheerfully. She brought me to the back sink to do the waxing. I told J that A had noticed my dreaded chin hair and had remarked cheerfully that if I didn’t pull it out, I would look like Zack Galifinakis. They were both much amused. The waxing hurt (of course) and A had a great time ripping my wax off. Then J rinsed out my highlights and dye and A squealed, “Ooooh, your hair is black and orange!” This did not inspire confidence. “Let’s wait and show her when it’s all rinsed out,” said J hastily. We walked me back to the chair and my little helper bounced along beside. I told J that DH was out of town and I was watching A all weekend and helping her get over her cold. “She’ll be my little shadow all weekend,” I told her. A took great umbrage at this. “Now I know you don’t like me,” she announced. “You had a blucky look on your face when you told Miss J about your shadow.” “I love you dearly, ” I protested weakly. “No you don’t,” she said, and flounced out to the waiting room. She came back a few minutes later, frowning. “Your hair looks awful,” she informed me spitefully. She left again. She came back again. I tried (successfully for a moment) to make her laugh, then my success made her furious and she stalked out again. She came back. “Your hair STILL looks awful,” she announced. “When are we going to be done??” J told her she had about 10 minutes. “I’m HUNGRY,” she said. “That’s why we stopped at Sonic on the way here,” I told her. “You haven’t touched your drink.” “I want to go to Cracker Barrel,” she decided. “Great,” I thought. “There goes my diet.” When I told her we could go to Cracker Barrel, the little stinker perked up some. She had almost forgiven me by the time she walked with me to the car. All I can say is, if she’s this awful at seven, tween and teen years will be a NIGHTMARE. I am really in for it. And she was damn perceptive about the face I made when I announced she would be my shadow for the weekend. I really do love her dearly. It’s just… she can be so… difficult…