Lesson #29 The Salon Is Where It's At

The official "before" photo

My sister Amy got the good hair genes in our family.  It is thick, lucious and grows so fast she is always complaining about having to get it cut "yet again."  I, on the other hand, got the fine, straight hair of my grandmother Weezie's side.  And it grows slowly.  Very slowly. 

I have always hated my hair.  Ask anyone who knows me.  I have been complaining about it since I was a little girl- when Mom would curl it, I would want it straight.  When it was brown, I wanted it blond.  I had perms for years, regular and spiral.  I have actually always fantasized about having gorgeous "ethnic" long hair like Jennifer Lopez or Charro (yes, I'm that old that I remember her on the Love Boat with her "coochie, coochie, coochie").  Alas, unless I decide to buy myself some extensions or a weave, I will have to settle for my fine hair. 

Fortunately my son has AWESOME hair!  I was surprised when the sonogram showed so much of it and even more surprised when he arrived with a mass of dark hair on his head.  I have had a blast watching it grow with a mind of its own, some days conservative and flat like a little mathematician and most other days sticking up like a mad scientist.  I love his crazy hairdos.

So you can imagine how I felt about cutting Liam's hair.  Sure, I gave it a little trim the night before his Baptism (see earlier post) and another one the night before his 8 month photos.  But let's face it- I'm no stylist.  But it was time.  Even I had to admit it.  The crazy days had been outgrown and it was way too long to funk it up- it just hung there flatly and in his eyes, over his ears and down his neck. 

Eventually Liam will go to a manly and official Barber Shop, straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  But for his first real hair cut experience, I called my friend and hair stylist, Anita Graves, who I have known for over 15 years.  Some of you might remember her from the wedding.

She happily scheduled him for Friday, February 3rd at 4:30pm.  There was no backing out.  I brought Kleenex for my impending weepfest, and a candy bracelet.  Yes, a candy bracelet. I will explain later.

First, Liam just hung out, taking in his surroundings at Salon Kismet, got used to the booster chair that made him very tall, and made sure he showed Anita the picture of his friend Carter Heide's hair- his inspiration.

Anita began by simply showing Liam all her "toys", including the big brush to wipe off his whispies and the spray bottle to wet it all down.



Once she wetted it down and combed it out, I had to admit that it was in dire need of some trimmage.  Although I kind of love this "ducktail" look.

But eventually it was time to get down to the very serious business of cutting.  Anita was amazing!  I have always known her to be a fast-moving, fast-talking, creative lady.  But she had tricks up her sleeve that I have never seen before.  

She was lightning-fast!  When he was obsessed with her clippers, she gave Ryan another set to plug in and voila, distraction.  When he was fascinated by her red comb she was using, she said, "Rojo!" (yes, Spanish lessons are apparently included free of charge) and then she handed him a white one of his own to play with.





Now, back to the candy bracelet.  No, I didn't bring them out of my love for accessories, but for a very practical reason.  When my nephew Benjamin was younger, he hated going to the barber shop.  So, my brilliant sister-in-law Shannon brought a candy necklace with them the next time.  Benjamin played with it and ate it off her neck, sitting still for the barber.  I used a bracelet instead and am happy to say that it worked beautifully!

When it was almost over, I posed with him to capture the moment.  I think he looks very pleased with his new look, doing little show-off moves for Daddy.

Even with our extensive parlor tricks, the little guy did get a bit annoyed with the sitting still and the paparazzi flashing their (my) bulbs in his face.

Time to blow dry and style.  He liked this part- the "wind" in his hair.

We all managed to get out alive.  A few tears shed by yours truly, but also a feeling of incredible pride that my baby is growing up to be such a happy, healthy little guy with a lot more "firsts" to come. 

And now he knows, just as I have for years, that the salon (Kismet) is where it's at.  Lesson well learned.



The official "after" photo



PS:  Like a good lasagna, it was even better the day after ;)