happy endings… or maybe not so happy

How many people, SERIOUSLY, would start crying a full-blown cry at the hair stylist?! Really?! This is not normal behavior.

And yet, sad to say, that IS what happened to me today.

It all started when I went to pick up the 30 Little Caesar’s pizzas for the last time for the last hot lunch of the school year.

The funny thing is, we have been anxiously awaiting this day for WEEKS, maybe even MONTHS! It’s the last day of school! Summer is here!

I was feeling quite sentimental as I set up the pizza and got everything ready for lunch.

Then in the middle of lunch, the other hot lunch moms called me out of the kitchen and presented me with a big bouquet of flowers in appreciation of my job coordinating the lunch every week. All of the little kids were clapping and cheering.

And it just hit me how bittersweet that last day really was. As I mentioned in my last post, my boys most likely will not be returning to their school next year. (I WILL write more about this soon.)

My second grader has been with his same class of friends since kindergarten. And my kindergartner has enjoyed a year of developing his own friends apart from his older brother. We have loved the school, loved the families who are such a community and loved the teachers.

I also have loved hanging out with the other moms during hot lunch or play dates in the park or whatever brought us together.

So, it was a tough day to say good-bye, realizing that this would be our last day at that school. I was trying so hard to fight back tears that it got to the point I had to just stop people from saying their thank-yous and good-byes. “No, no, no…. I don’t want to start crying again!”

I had a haircut scheduled right after lunch, and fortunately, I was running late this morning and had put my make-up bag in the car. Boy, did I ever need it!

I pulled myself together and reapplied my make-up so I could behave like a normal adult in the swanky hair salon where Amy, my stylist now works.

During the last four years, I have followed Amy to three different salons and even trekked 40 minutes to her house to dunk my head in her kitchen sink when she was between jobs. When I first met her, Amy’s hair-cutting name was Shea because another Amy already worked at her salon. I have only recently been able to train my brain to ask for “Amy” when I make my appointments, since they haven’t heard of “Shea” at her new gig.

I sat down in her chair and Shea, I mean Amy, told me the bad news.

“Today is the last time I can cut your hair.”

What?!

I was speechless.

I knew this day was coming. When she took the new job, she was hired as a colorist. They made an exception and let her cut my hair, too, for the past six months. But I was not prepared for this news.

Amy is the only hair stylist I have trusted so fully. She has a way with scissors. She is creative and intuitively knows how to cut my hair. She gives me suggestions to try new styles. And she has corrected several haircuts when I couldn’t find her and had to go somewhere else out of desperation.

She introduced me to “Mo” who will be my new stylist.

“Amy has been cutting my hair for FOUR YEARS!” I explained to Mo, hoping to let her know that she was an unwanted intruder in my hair affair with Amy. Then, I burst into tears.

Both Amy and Mo had tears in their eyes as they ran to get me a box of Kleenex. We all cried and hugged for a while before I could compose myself.

“It’s my kids’ last day of school, and now THIS?!?” I tried to explain.

Mo does look like someone I can trust. She is a little more mature than many of the other stylists so she can probably ignore some of my fine lines and wrinkles. And she has a very short haircut herself, which gives me hope she might be able to cut mine just right.

But she’s no Shea, or Amy, or Sheamy, or whatever the heck her name is!

We still have to go to a school function tonight. I’m sure the tears will be flowing freely as the kids recite their poems and sing their little songs.

But at least my hair will look hip. Maybe for the last time.

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