Parental Traitor


Ok. I admit it. I’m a traitor. I will admit not that I love my daughter more, because I (usually) don’t. However, today I got a taste of ‘normal’. ‘Typical’ for all you panties-in-a-wad PC people out there – though why you’d be reading MY blog, I have no clue.

A little background if you just tuned in:
My 8 y.o. Has sensory issues. This leads to many other issues. He’s getting better in that he has adapted to what happens around him through lots and lots and lots of therapy.
To challenge our patience we went and slapped braces on our sensory-challenged kid. This has resulted in him finally and blessedly participating and behaving for his every-six-weeks wire change at the orthodontist. It only took a year!!!

He is working on catching up in all things school related. He also has “low muscle tone” resulting in cries of torture and threats of abuse for making him hold a pencil and sit and do math homework.

(Pretty typical, I’d say)

Have him do anything resembling copied and/or written essay/report/novela and it’s rubber-boned floor flopping for hours.

Anyhow, these are just small tidbits of reality with life with my very intelligent, creative, confident, independent, co-dependent outgoing boy.

Back to the haircut. My son was born with a head of blond curly hair. Because of this, he has had haircuts literally his entire life.

At 6 yrs old we were finally able to have someone use clippers on him, and only with constant cheering and coaching.

At 8, he finally is able to let the stylist use a blow dryer at the end.

Neither is an exaggeration. Honest engine.

So imagine, if you can, my shock at how today went with my very typical easy going 4 year old daughter.

Me: What’s included in the haircut?
Stylist: a wash if she wants it, a cut, and a braid.
Me: Do you want her to wash your hair?
4yo: Yes.

….

I looked at the stylist who looked at me looking at her.

Let’s go then!

Kid hops up into bed thing. Kid puts head on sink.

No one is screaming.
No one is crying.

I wanted to cry

I’m expecting my kid to jump up at any minute and say “nevermind! I actually hate this and now all of you as well. Peace out!”

She didn’t! Not only did she lay there and let it all happen, she was answering questions and smiling the entire time.

Time for the car chair and cut

No tears. No questions. No fighting or crying about hairs in her eyes/nose/mouth/neck. Just smiles.

She chose a braid on top, then the stylist brought out the blow dryer.

I’m looking at my kid with this anticipation that I’m hiding as enthusiasm. The stylist was great and never mentioned my lunacy and utter craziness. She was rewarded handsomely on the tip line.

And then I felt it. When it was all done my shoulders relaxed, my face softened, my butt unclenched and that’s when I felt my Ah-Ha.
“Oooooh, so THIS is what it’s like for the other half! This is niiiiice!”

It was just easy. It was such a stark contrast to my first kid. No arguing or struggling or demanding pleading plying trying wrangling sweating. Just done, and done with smiles and ‘happy’.

Thank God for the easy kids. You save your mommies in so many ways.

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