All week leading up to the appointment she was very excited unlike last time when she sobbed the whole way to the salon. This year she was excited all morning and couldn't wait to get there. Then at 12:30 as we were driving to her appointment she told me she wanted to take a nap in her bed. Well, that was going to be a problem, because her appointment was at 1:00. For the most part, she doesn't nap anymore. However, she decided that today was the day she was going to make an exception. In truth, I had wanted to schedule her appointment for first thing this morning but she had a kids sports class this week and Friday morning was the make up session. Since we were having some rain this week I didn't want to take a chance that we would have to reschedule since they don't do kids braids on Saturday and this was our last chance to have them done before we go on vacation. I have already told my sister that if I make an afternoon appointment next year, she has my permission to commit me. That's assuming they let us back in. I'm mostly kidding about that comment. I think. Mostly.
So, we get there and we walk in and another little girl is having her braids finished and she is crying. Grace looks at me and says "I don't wanna do this. I want to go home and take a nap in my bed.". I hope this will wear off. I try to point out that the little girls braids look lovely and look, she has beautiful colored beads on the end of those. Wouldn't you like those on yours? First I get the stink eye. But I kept on with telling her how happy she would be when they were done and she was so big and grown up and this would be easy. Since I clearly wasn't picking up what she was layin' down she said "No! I want nuffin! I want to go home and sleep in my bed." Now, you might be thinking why in the name of Sheldon Cooper didn't she scoop her up, cancel the appointment and go home? That's a fair question to ask. However, if you have ever had the pleasure of combing her hair even one time in your life, you would know the answer to that. And it's called the Flaherty girls need a hair combing vacation. For me, this is like looking forward to the two action packed weeks of the Olympic games. There are no losers in the hair vacation. There are no bronze medals. Just a tie for gold with Mommy and Gracie joyfully sharing the podium and thanking the hair stylist who brought us to this miraculous moment. In this case, it does hurt to be beautiful but those two blissful weeks make it worth it. It's hard to remember that when she's throwing her shoe's off and yelling at the stylist "You're supposed to gentle. You're not being GENTLE!!! This is rude!!!!" In the stylist's defense, how is she supposed to be gentle when the child, whose hair she is trying to gently hold is thrashing around like she's about to be sent to the electric chair. She's yanking her head all over creation and is blaming the stylist for her lack of gentle touch.
If I am being honest, this particular stylist is not my favorite. In fact, she is the only one I really haven't cared for. She does a gorgeous job braiding but she made me feel like a complete dummy. We get Grace to sit on the chair and Grace immediately tells me she doesn't want to do this. Then she pulls out the hair dryer and she put some kind of spray on a paddle brush and used it to somewhat straighten out Grace's curls to make it easier to braid, It would have been really interesting to watch if Grace wasn't screaming and trying to jump down from the chair. I tried everything. I offered her the toys we brought, my phone to play with, an ice cream when we were finished. But nope, she just kept screaming. She screamed for her bed. She screamed for her favorite blanket, she screamed for me to call Auntie Kate to come pick her up and bring her home. The stylist told me I was feeding into her and I should go sit down. I actually think she was right about that but it still hurt to hear it. So I sit down about 15 feet from Grace but right in her sight line and then she starts screaming that she's scared and needs her mom. I try talking to her, I try not talking to her. Other stylists try to talk to her. It was a disaster. Then she screamed "I want you to hold my hand mommy, I scared" so I said screw this and I got up and held her hand. Did I feed into her? Yup. And I would do it again. Then she says I have to go potty. I said you went right before we came in, you're OK. She screamed it out this time. Two ladies in the salon both told the stylist to stop and let her go potty. Both the stylist and I said, she's fine, she's stalling. When the stylist finished the braid she was working on I took her to the bathroom. She had a trickle and was done. We went back out and she was still fighting mad but one of the ladies brought over the four month old she was holding and eventually she stopped screaming. And then she smiled at the baby and made silly faces at him. At this point we were about half way done and then all of a sudden she was the most helpful child on the planet. She sat still. She handed the beads to the stylist to put on the bead tool. She looked at herself adoringly. I sat on a chair reminding myself that some day I will laugh about this. Someday it will be one of the stories that start with remember the time we had your hair braided and it almost made both of our heads explode? Yup, those will be good times. Just not today. Today I apologized to the entire salon and so did Grace. The owner gave me a hug and said oh, you did so good. I'm so proud of you. This is so hard to watch but it gets better. The other people in the salon nodded as if they too had been through hair braiding hell. They watched her shake her head and smiled as she laughed and laughed over the jingling sound the new braids made. I gave a 40% tip, again, because she really deserved combat pay. And as we walked out into the sun Grace marveled over her beautiful braids and I thanked all that was holy for the foresight to schedule my own hair appointment for tomorrow as my gray hair ratio multiplied by 50% in that God awful hour and seventeen minutes (but really, whose counting).
