When Kate was a little baby, people loved to come up to me and comment on her hair.
All that hair’s going to fall out!
It’s going to stay that color!
What did you do to get a baby with all that hair? I bet you had some serious heartburn! He he he.***
Rude, people. Just rude.
Kate was born with all that hair. As referenced in that picture of her at 3 months. In fact, when I was huffing and puffing and trying to blow her out of my nether regions, I took a break and as the nurse wiped off my sweating brow and my OB told me I was getting so close, that she could see Kate’s head. And I said, “does she have hair?”
And my OB said: “just wait til you see this.” She got out a mirror, and, oh, she showed me alright.
This kid’s hair was the first thing I saw when I saw, well, part of her.
Well, all those rude people were just wrong. Her hair never fell out. It just grew. And it grew in blonde. And I had nothing to do with it short of my 23 chromosomes, which, no offense to Dan, must have contained my full and thick hair gene.
Kate, you are welcome.
So I hadn’t gotten her hair cut in the two years since her birth because, well, I didn’t see the point. But after two years, her hair was looking a little uneven, so I figured a little trim should be in order in honor of starting preschool.
I took Kate to Fary at Bubbles, who has been cutting my hair since I was 14. Yes, 14. So, that’s half my life. Fary is the best because I don’t have to explain myself. I just come on it, tell her, ummm…you know what I like. And she does it. And it always looks good.
Not only does she cut my hair, but she also cuts my grandma’s hair, my mom’s hair and my sister’s hair. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s four generations of hair.
So when it came time to get Kate’s haircut, I made an appointment for myself and tacked Kate on. And, unbeknownst to me, my mom made an appointment to get her hair colored at the time slot right before me. That’s what you get when your parents live 15 minutes away.
Kate’s crazy for Susie (that’s what she calls my mom), so it was a nice surprise to share our big haircut day with Susie. I wondered if Kate would cry, since I’ve heard many of my friends share their stories of tear-filled adventures at the hair cut place. But nary a tear was shed. I dare say, I think Kate liked being pampered.
A two-year-old with a salon blowout? She better start doing chores to pay for her salon treatments.
After she was done, she said “Kate’s hair so beautiful!” I’m going to remind her of this incident when she’s 15 and tells me she hates her hair.
***For the record, no, I did not experience any heartburn with my pregnancy with Kate. Not once. So that’s a bunch of bunk.
PS: If you live in the NoVa region and are looking for a fantastic hair stylist, email me sarah AT bagley DOT org, and I’ll give you the 411 on my girl Fary.