4 please, well, ok, I guess we'll make it 5

Hair cuts, that is.

This morning I ventured out to the gym to get in my workout and when I was finished with my cha-cha's and mambo's from my group groove class I took a quick shower, even taking time to blow my hair dry and put on make-up. After the always somewhat trying experience of getting all 4 kids out of the YMCA without running into someone, I mean physically running here, or touching the Handicap only doors, or running in front of cars, or worse yet, forgetting one of them, we make it to the car and were on our way.

After running into a store to get a wedding present for my cousin's wedding tomorrow, why plan ahead, we headed to the haircut store. I'm hungry....was the cry from the back, I'm shocked, was the thought of my mind. Since the only place nearby was Wendy's, I chose to do the drivethrough remembering our horrible Wendy's experience from earlier this week.

With chicken nuggets in hand and drinks carefully balanced we walked into the unsuspecting Great Clips. The store was empty, so I set up station carefully distributing the fried circles and long rectangles with the appropriate condiments for each child.

4 Hair cuts please was my request at the front desk. Rhiannon went first sitting so still, Iain followed charming the hairdresser. Kyle feared the hair washing that I insisted upon. He was reduced to tears trying to convice me that he knew how to wash his hair. I explained that I just wanted him to experience the washing and allow the lady to get his very long hair very wet. Once he settled down, he won over his hairdresser with stories of Hannah Montana and Indiana Jones. By the end of his cut he had the lady laughing hysterically.

Then came Teagan....She was, to begin with, afraid of the lady because she had a thick French accent and somewhat large dyed blond hair. In addition Teags was fearful of being cut by the scissors. Being the patient loving mother that I am, I offered to let her sit on my lap. (mistake # 1) While our French friend worked on the hair of the now screaming preschooler I began talking about all of the wonderful relatives we would see at the wedding tomorrow. (mistake #2). Once my darling child quite screaming, I began telling her how lovely she would look in her new dress and how nice all the kids would look with their spiffy new haircuts. (mistake #3.)

3 Strikes and you are out. The French gal could no longer hold her tongue. Grabbing my hair, with determination in her voice she said, "Now, dear, what are we going to do with your hair, because you can't wear it like this to a wedding. It has no style and certainly needs to be cut. Besides if your kids all look good, you must too." OUCH!!! I looked in the mirror and could not disagree. My hair did look pretty bad, but was I willing to let a stranger from a place called Great clips, cut MY hair?

You see, it really wasn't a choice at this point, she was going to cut my hair, the only question was how did I want it cut? So I looked at my kids sitting so nicely eating their lollipops and agreed to give the lady my chosen style. Once she had cut just enough so there was no turning back, the lollipops were finished. Oh no. Oh yeah. One playing with the door, One sampling the products, one throwing the toys, one shouting at the rest to listen to her....all chaos had broken loose and I was stuck in a chair wearing a cape watching a French wench cut my hair. I try to tell them to stop without turning my head. I tried to ask what they were doing. To my shock, horror and eventual delight, the manager of the non-upscale hair salon went over to my children and told them she didn't like the way they were behaving in her shop and they needed to sit down quietly and wait for their mother.

What is a mom to do at this point? Get up and leave? Some strange woman just yelled at my kids. On the other hand, they weren't behaving and I could not really do much from my compromised position. So I sat and waited. Don't you know those kids quieted down, sat nicely and played so quietly till I was finished.

The result? My French consultant believes I will look lovely at the wedding and with her 25 years of experience she believes it is one of her best cuts. My children's response? Mommy, your hair is to short, Mommy, what did you do? Mommy, you don't look like Mommy, you look like a babysitter, Mommy, I'm hungry.

The final determinatin is yet to be made when my husband returns home this evening. Maybe if I put on my nice dress and put on make-up and do some funky dance moves from my gym class he'll love it! We'll see.

Blessed to be momofkrit and woj, even if I look like the babysitter,
KT