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.
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4 comments:
This is too hilarious. I love temper tantrum storis. On the bringht side, that's probably the cleanest the barbershop floor has been in many, many years.
Don't forget to clean out the lint trap of your clothes dryer :)
Brett- as you know, one of ours was prone to temper tantrums at Colin's age - Henrik had 4-6 per day for a period of about 6 months. Big, nasty ones. I dealt - I had these John Gottman affirmations I'd say to get us through - I timed them, to remind myself they really didn't last for hours. I had it down- I didn't care where we were or who was watching. Except this one time....
On this particular day, we had managed to get to Matthews Beach just before 11am. We unloaded and headed toward the park- I remember being struck by how visible Simon's shiner was in the bright sunlight. He'd fallen onto his window sill the night before- it was huge and multi-colored, and in marked contract to fair complexion and light hair. Shocking. People stared - in PoliteSeattleite sort of way. Just as I'm busy trying a)not to notice and b)not to care what they were thinking, Henrik spots the playground and starts to run full speed ahead. At that very moment, Simon yells, "MAMA, I HAVE TO PEE!" We were in the height of potty training, so I called to Henrik to wait while Simon went to the bathroom. Boom - instant eruption- Henrik's screaming- and Simon runs alone into the dark men's bathroom (ack). I go to get Henrik and have to pick him up to bring him back- he's kicking and screaming. Meanwhile, all the good mommies are streaming into the park. I go and sit on the sidewalk, struggling to hold Henrik and whisper the little Gottman affirmations. Simon comes out of the bathroom, shiner in full sunlight - and very quietly sits right next to me to wait it out. There we are - me with Henrik in a "therapeutic hold," Simon compliantly next to me with his shiner..and Henrik starts to yell, full power, "YOU'RE HURTING ME MAMA!" over and over and over...
An expectant mom I knew told some of us that she was going to start her maternity leave early because it would be embarrassing to have her water to break at work- I smiled and thought that if that were the most humiliating experience I'd had since becoming a parent, I'd count myself lucky.
Or not. Maybe the little humiliations create openings for learning - long step, short step, bump.
thanks for sharing, brett..
Brett, we love this story. The hair...at the time, we would have been so freaked out about the hair. The fact that you kept such composure is where the amusement sets in...we are laughing with you, not at you.
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