First "Real" Haircut

For the last three years when my son needs his hair cut, I have done it.
It has cost suckers to get the job done -- usually five -- because he hates with a passion even the mere idea of having his hair chopped. I don't know why, but scissors terrify him. Nothing has happened, that I know of, to cause such a phobia, but nonetheless, the fear exists.
And when I mention the suckers, each lasts about forty-five seconds, as my son is a chomper, not a licker, when it comes to candy on a stick.
Lately, though, not even suckers have been enticement enough for him to sit even remotely still for a trim.
Brilliant idea, I stupidly thought, "I'll have a pro do it! AND -- I'll take the camera! (hahahahahaha!)"
Oh, bless her heart.
We walked into Super Cuts and fortunately not another soul existed in the building.
I had been prepping him for the cut -- he kept shaking his head and saying "no, it's fine! I don't NEED a cut!"
But I am stubborn. I've been told that before. I accept it.
The stylist, along with myself and my hubby all tried the gentle soothing tones that come with bribery.
"You can get a treat as soon as your hair is cut! Yay!"
The screaming started immediately, and as I was holding him in order to pin him, the first spews of vomit landed directly on me. Yes, vomit. This story is not for the weak. And, fortunately, I was caped as well as my son. Whew!
The second eruption, however, landed on a towel, as me, the stylist, and my husband were prepared for further anointing, shall we say. The problem, however, was that my son literally went face first into the towel and didn't back away from it, thus he was trying to breathe/choke/vomit simultaneously, so my solution was to throw the towel away from his being as quickly as possible. I didn't want him to aspirate. Sadly, though, there was a creature in the way of the towel's disposal: my poor husband.
While hubby went to the restroom to clean up, while I was left to try to calm the bewildered little half-shorn creature in my arms.
The stylist was "looking for toys" but I'd bet money she was drinking from a "special" flask in the back room.
I was being kicked, pummeled, and rained upon with tears while trying to tame the beast. But, bravely, we all went back in to try and finish the job.
Hair was flying, capes having been disposed, and the hair invariably rained upon me and my child, who abhors hair on his delicate skin. He whimpered, he cried, he screamed -- literally screamed, into my ear; it's still ringing -- while we held down limbs. Appendages everywhere. At one point, no joke, my husband was accidentally holding my arms down, thinking they were the boy's!
Whoosh! Off went the newest cape! Off went the vomit-soaked shirt! Powder was liberally applied across the nape of his neck to rid him of the offending hairs, but they floated across to mom, lucky me...
BUT. The important part is that we all lived to tell the tale! And obviously, pictures were NOT taken in remembrance, though the visual is burned into my brain forever.
(I wish I had a picture of my son's face when the stylist said, "We'll see you in a month!")
That boy was still angry and spitting and hissing as I put him in the car.
Then, a short while later, calm reigned in the land.
And I am still itching all over the place. I can STILL see little hairs falling off randomly.
I'm headed to the showers, and then maybe a nap of my own!

Tulsa Radio Stations and Me

I live in Tulsa currently. I once lived in Oklahoma City, not so long ago.
In OKC I have a favorite radio station -- KISS-FM -- particularly because of the afternoon drive time team, Drew and Kaci. I love their banter and they seem like genuinely nice people.
KISS plays current top 40 tunes, as well as some older stuff, but mostly current music, and they play those songs repeatedly, again and again, ad nauseum, as do most of the stations whenever they lock onto music that listeners respond to. I understand that, so every now and then I switch to another station until I get tired of their line-up, and then back to KISS.
Now, though, I live in Tulsa and I cannot find current music.
I've tried 97.5, but it's a little too hard core for me.
I like 103.3 when I'm in the mood for classic rock, but come on, not all the time.
I have listened to the Oldies station, and I just can't take any more repetitions of "Teen Angel."
I'm not a huge country fan; I live in the wrong part of the world, huh?
I have 96.5 plugged into my pre-set button, and it touts itself as playing 70's, 80's, 90's, and today.
I can't seem to drive during the "today" section of their playlist.
Or much 90's.
And then the station has All-80's weekends seemingly every single weekend.
But Prince and Madonna, 80's? Still very relevant in the Tulsa metro! Pick a time of any day, weekend or not, and one of those two artists will be belting it out on Tulsa radio everywhere.
If I hear "Kiss" or "Borderline" again I will have to rip out  my stock radio and get some sort of adapter for my i-Pod so I can listen to something I enjoy.
And irony of ironies, invariably when I visit OKC it is a Wednesday. I don't know why, it just seems to be the trend. And guess what? Every Wednesday if Way Back Wednesday on KISS-FM!!
NOT current, not at all, not on Wednesday.
Sigh. I guess I'll get back to Tulsa.

Grass May be Greener, but You Still Have to Mow

I have noticed my family may have a "grass is always greener" mentality of late. It seems each time we travel to our hometown, Oklahoma City, where my hubby grew up amongst all of his immediate family and all of whom still reside there, that we get a bit homesick and long to be back where it is comfortable.
We live in Tulsa now. Tulsa is far prettier, it's hillier, it's less windy, and allergens aren't quite so prevalent to our sensitive snoots as they were in the City.
We may move back soon. But until such time, I am trying to see a new side of Tulsa that I haven't seen yet.
I always seem to have one route, to the grocery store, to the post office, to a favorite park, and rarely do I venture away from the beaten path unless inspired by something shiny or on sale.
Yesterday I took my son to Mohawk Park, to visit the zoo for the zillionth time, and discovered a sign to the Oxley Nature Center right behind the zoo.
I was feeling frisky or something 'cause we followed that sign, parked the car, and actually got out to explore! It was a tangle of paths and trails to venture down and find critters and flora in abundance.
Granted, my son was quickly bored, as none of the creatures looked like the giraffe he was expecting to see when he awoke that morning, and without a stroller, those paths became more of an upper body workout of continuously lifting forty pounds up and down than a leisurely stroll, but it was a lovely day and grasshoppers zigged and zagged enough to amuse us for a little while.
We went into the actual nature center buildling and found out it had been there since 1977! Who knew?
Of course, we ended up at the zoo in short order, where we finally saw the giraffe as well as a litter of four brand new pot-bellied pigs. Too cute.
Who know what adventure we will find tomorrow??
Any suggestions, please let me know.
Below is a picture of what my son found interesting in the world. I have a whole series of things just like this, should anyone be interested. Thank goodness for digital cameras and their tireless memory cards.