The place was abuzz with chatter as you might imagine a hair salon full of women to be. I’d arrived a bit early, happy to take a deep breath and relax before my all-important hair appointment. The atmosphere in the salon was different today. The reason soon became apparent.
“What are all of these kids doing here?” I asked Katie, my stylist, as I plopped into the chair before her mirror. I was so ready to be pampered. “Is the salon running an after school special on kids haircuts?”
“No,” she laughed. “I think one of the moms brought her kids with her today.”
The mom in question, who looked like her photo should be next to the word “harried” in the dictionary, sat with a nine-month-old infant on her lap. The little guy was desperately trying to wriggle his way off of her lap and join in the fun his older siblings were having.
Moments later, a loud crash garnered the attention of the entire room and brought staff running. Every towel in the shop was soon employed to mop up water gushing from an overturned water cooler bottle that had apparently gotten in the way of the running children. Clearly, playing tag in a room full of women and hairdryers - not to mention scissors - was not the best of ideas.
“This poor mom whoever she is!” I thought to myself. My heart went out to her. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“No, I wish you could” came the frustrated reply. “Today was supposed to be a girls’ day out - just me and my 7-year-old Lizzie getting haircuts. Dave had agreed to watch the boys for a few hours but backed out at the last minute to play in a golf tournament. He just assumed I would find a substitute sitter at the last minute. No success there. Between my full-time job, handling three kids and taking care of the house I’m about to blow a gasket!”
The harried mom was on a roll and had garnered the attention of everyone in the salon.
“Let me tell you what put me over the edge.”
“You remember the wildfires that endangered our area a few months ago? Schools were closed and entire neighborhoods were ordered to evacuate immediately. My husband was nowhere to be found and it fell to me to figure out where we should go and what valuables to take. I quickly packed enough clothes for a few days for the entire family, all five of us. I rounded up as many valuables as I could think of, including all of my work materials and computer, and even arranged to drop off Charlie, our aging dog, at a safe kennel.
“Just as I was finishing up the packing, Dave showed up. Do you know why he was late? He was picking up a new puppy for the kids. Yes, a new puppy! In his wisdom, my husband Dave had decided that the very day a wildfire was threatening our home, THIS was the right day to adopt a new puppy. An adorable, not yet-trained silver labrador retriever puppy.
“Of course, the kids were crazy excited. Me, I just went crazy. I had reached Kidpacity. I was handling three kids under the age of seven, running a business and managing a household without much help. Now my well-meaning “Dad of the Year” had added one more task - taking care of a brand new, untrained puppy to my list of to-dos, with no indication he was willing to help.
“That night in our temporary shelter in two connecting hotel rooms, with the kids asleep and Dave watching sports, I imagined starting a support group to help mothers like me. I would call it “Mothers at Kidpacity” (MAK for short). The group was sure to become an overnight success, with mothers everywhere joining in droves. My musings were interrupted by a suddenly awake child tugging at my sleeve, asking when we were going home.
“Child put back to bed, I resolved to do more delegating – I would insist that Dave house train the new pup and walk him at least twice a day. And he would take a few of the kids with him so I could enjoy a few moments of peace. It would be a chapter in the MAK handbook, a volume chockfull of tips to bring kidpacity-worn moms a little respite from all the daily battles.”
For a brief moment the salon was silent as each of us no doubt contemplated our own difficult experiences with kidpacity. Then, with the kids quietly occupied with coloring books, the women and stylists returned to the usual pleasant routine of wash, cut and chat. Just another day at the salon.
© 2024 Annie Sokoloff
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