Barbershop trumps car seat

No, wait, it really hit me when... Colin did a full "snow angel" meltdown on the barbershop floor. Yes, it's an odd sensation to carry the car seat, as the primary caregiver, but "odd sensation" doesn't even begin to describe the barbershop encounter.

Magnolia Barber Shop, 3:30 PM on a recent Wednesday. Crowded as always. (There are a lot of barbershops in this city and I'm still not certain why we choose to drive to one of the most hard-to-reach parts of the city for kid haircuts, but I digress) 5 men in the store -- not including me and the Ballbach boys. One in the chair reading Wall Street Journal and looking the part. Two of Magnolia's famous drivers, both pushing 85. One younger guy reading the local sports page and probably just finished a construction shift. One high school or community college kid, borderline skater.

And, me and the three boys. Great idea, we'll get a quick haircut for Quinn before he has to be at Church at 4. I'll feed Lawton while we wait and Colin, well, Colin can play with the cars in the cardboard box. Now, I do like this barbershop, but the cars have been in the same cardboard box for years and most likely never been cleaned. Normally this bothers me, but today my defenses are down. I'm struggling with feeding Lawton, who, unusually for him, isn't interested in eating. Colin is driving aforementioned dirty cars up and over the legs of post-shift construction worker and sullen borderline skater. Skater looks up occasionally and nervously smiles as Colin drives the truck over his middle thigh. I'm just trying to get Lawton to eat.

Quinn's haircut is done and he gets the obligatory Tootsie Roll (apparently they were cheaper than lollipops on the last Costco trip). Colin, who for the first time didn't get a haircut at the same time (he's "growing his hair out," ask Kate) senses the inequity and wants a Tootsie Roll as well. Lawton still isn't eating -- less than two ounces in 20 minutes, not like him. Problem is, well besides LJ not eating, Colin had 2 Tootsie Rolls when we first arrived. Sorry, Biggie (Colin) no more for you -- you've still had one more than your brother.

Now, Colin's meltdowns aren't always predictable ("I want to dunk on a hoop where I can do it my own self AND hang on the rim" -- thanks, Rashard), but in retrospect this one probably was. Colin --whom it's important to note -- is wearing his standard winter uniform, fleece cozy pants and a fleece top -- goes ape at the Tootsie Roll inequity. He goes face down at the base of chair 2 and 3 on the barbershop floor. Remember the state of the cars in the cardboard box and it's not a stretch to picture that the broom doesn't get brought out after each cut. Full on "snow angel" tantrum. Face down. Barber shop floor. Wearing fleece.

Complete silence except for Colin's screams and a #2 razor. Wall Street Journal guy looks even harder for JDS Uniphase stock info, construction worker instantly drawn to story about new Storm assistant coach, older chaps probably oblivious and skater guy is just relieved the Colin isn't driving the truck over his leg anymore. Lawton still isn't eating.

Bottle dripping breast milk, I gather our stuff and quick draw the VISA. "Time to go, Colin" I muster. Arm movements become more exaggerated, snow angel is furious. Swipe, sign, add tip, thank you. Lawton, suddenly interested in eating again, starts screaming. Colin, miraculously, gets up after a tug on the fleece and aware the rest of us are heading out the door. Stands up, still screaming and is ... a yeti. 5-6 haircuts worth of clippings are embedded in his fleece. Turtleneck to shoe.

I was the kid who, as a youngster, ran to the surf to wash my hands every time they got sand on them at the beach. So, this yeti-like appearance should bother me, but we have momentum toward the door. We all make it out the door -- I so wish I knew, what if anything was said in the barbershop after this entertaining departure -- and Colin relapses in to tantrum, part deux. This time, on the steps, laying down. It's been raining all day (February in Seattle). Wet fleece, moisture, a little dirt, and 6 haircuts worth of hair.

Forget the car seat. This is when it really hit me.

It hit me when...

...I was carrying the car seat. There's something awkward and burdened about the way you walk and feel when you carry one. It's not feminine or even un-manly. It's not the instant branding that comes with carrying a diaper bag. It's just not natural.

Perhaps technology has progressed since this '97 model, but it's nearly impossible to feel graceful, at ease or even in control when you are lugging the car seat. Arm extended slightly, 22 lbs. of baby and plastic banging against your right leg. Baby forming an odd fulcrum. Jostling, unsteady. Imagine it from their perspective. A giant is holding them at arms length, laboring, as they swing back and forth and bump. It is an odd gait the giant walks. Short step, big step, bump. Short step, big step, bump. That's when it hit me.

It wasn't that it was mid-day on a weekday. It wasn't diapers or bottles or playdates or laundry or homework or not showering. I didn't feel self-conscious of neighbors glancing out the window -- day off again? maybe one of his kids is sick? meeting the furnace guy? wait, is he Home?

With a capital H.

Yes, Home. Last time was more transitional, this time is more intentional. I'm well aware that not everyone would choose this. Also, aware that many would love to have this opportunity with their own kids. I'm grateful on both counts and plan to use this forum to share some thoughts and experiences. Short step, big step, bump.