Hairdressing – With A Side Of Honesty

Since having kids one of my favourite things to do is going to get my hair done.

Yes of course covering the ever-thickening grey strands with a healthy dollop of artificial colour is a highlight (forgive the coiffeur humour!) but actually the best bit is sitting down for an extended period of time with people bringing me magazines and hot drinks.

A rarity these days, to state the bleeding obvious.

The thing I’ve never been that keen on about the hairdressers however is the chit chat, the small talk etiquette of it all.

For some reason I get really paranoid that I’m not giving the hairdresser good value in the chinwag department. Do they want to talk? Are they sick of talking? Why do the stylist and customer over there appear to be actual besties when I can’t think of anything interesting to say?

It’s bloody ridiculous, but sometimes I get so tense about the ‘awkward silence’ that I’ve sunk as low as asking my hairdresser about their holiday plans! I know that’s supposed to be their line but there’s only so much conversation you can have about the current state of salon straighteners…

What is even worst though, and I know I’m not alone here, is dragging the kids to have their tresses trimmed. There is literally nothing so stressful – except perhaps making them have their feet measured, or getting them to stop running around in cinema.

Thankfully these days now that she’s five Mini-me has quite taken to it all. Mainly because we’ve started going to a new place where they use ‘princess glitter spray’ and because I let her watch the iPad.

Blue-eyed boy however is another story.

Not only does he HATE the hairdressers, but ‘The A Word’ means that any outing to the barbers is now fraught with even more stress and, well, just basic hideousness.

We start gearing up to it several hours (or days) before actually leaving the house and only then attempt the trip armed to the gills with snacks little man is happy to consume this week, with at least a couple of episodes of Twirlywoos downloaded onto phone in case, horrors!, the Wifi signal doesn’t work.

Once I’ve actually got him in the chair, I then have to plonk Beebies entertainment directly in his line of vision, plead with hairdresser not to obstruct view with brushes etc., have snacks open and handy just in case of need, and all this while simultaneously holding Blue-eyed boy’s arms down so the snipping can actually take place.

And god, the bit where they try to cut around his ears, or use the clippers. Let’s not talk about it or I might start getting emotional!

The sensory issues triggered by his ASD mean that Blue-eyed boy hates certain materials and the feeling of them on his skin, so trying to put on the bib protector thingy is a total non-starter and can cause him real distress.

He also hates having water sprayed onto his hair, the feel of the scissors, the hairdresser actually touching his hair, and any residual noise interfering with his enjoyment of Great Big Hoo and gang. So a fun time is guaranteed for all.

On our visit this week (put off I might add until my poor child was sporting an actual mullet) I decided to try a new tack – honesty. It’s all part of the adapting to ASD you see. I figure I’m going to have to explain Blue-eyed boy’s condition so many times in the coming months and years that I might as well start as I mean to go on.

So when the hairdresser expressed surprise that little man didn’t like the dinosaur cape that usually goes down a storm, and in fact screamed the house down when confronted with it, instead of mumbling something about him ‘having a bad day’ I told the truth.

I told her that my son has autism, that he’s been recently diagnosed so we’re all still getting used to it and that his symptoms on any given day can include: chewing his clothes, having a meltdown if a piece of fruit he ate yesterday is put on his plate, slapping away other children if he feels they get too close and using language sparingly and only when he feels like it.

I said that ASD is actually very common and could even affect up to one in 60 children. And then I apologised if all this would make her job a bit more difficult than usual on this occasion.

Not only did she not mind, she was actually interested. She took account of what I’d said and tried to make Blue-eyed boy as comfortable as possible. Working together we even managed to keep him in the chair long enough for a pretty respectable cut.

So the upshot is that I think I’ll be sticking with this new honest approach to hairdressing – and other outings.

It just probably won’t extend to not stressing out over small talk etiquette.

That Tricky Thing about Not Looking Too Far Ahead…

This Saturday was one of those days that have to be consigned to the parenting dustbin.

One of those really crappy days that seem to last for an eternity and that you can’t ‘shake yourself out of’ no matter how hard you try.

Hey, they happen right?! Not a lot you can do about it.

I won’t bore you too much with the details, except to see it involved a long-planned meet-up with a group of good old friends, a particularly lovely toddler virus, an epic tantrum and the depressing realisation that on some occasions you have to accept that you probably won’t be leaving the house for the next 12 hours.

Now I don’t know about you but since becoming a parent my social life has not so much reduced as dramatically nose-dived.

It’s one of the secrets that you don’t really grasp until reproducing. And then you realise that actually both you and the other half making it to the cinema down the road at the same time with no children sick, screaming or guilt-tripping you into cancelling is a major achievement. In fact a cause for whooping at bemused sales assistant while ordering the popcorn.

Anyway, the point is that when you have something in the diary or scrawled on the kitchen wall planner that you’ve been looking forward to for a while, it stings even more when you have to cancel.

So far not so earth-shattering, but since Blue-eyed boy was officially diagnosed with ‘The A Word’ it’s come to our attention that the acceptance of the odd dustbin day is going to become increasingly likely.

We’re learning new things every day about ASD, and one simple fact is that our little man could very well find social situations large, small and everywhere in between a real struggle for the rest of his life.

I imagine it’s a bit like the nerves you get walking into a job interview. One of the really scary variety with a panel of people sitting across a desk from you.

ASD affects how people communicate with others and how they deal with others socially, and little things that you and I simply take for granted – like being able to read someone’s body language, tone of voice or facial expressions – can become huge obstacles to people on the spectrum.

Blue-eyed boy is working very hard, and us with him, to help him understand, process and use language, never mind learning to interact with others and cope with new and potentially scary social situations. It’s all a rather tall order for a two-year-old but our little fighter is coping brilliantly and taking everything in his stride.

We never doubted that he would.

In return, as well as resolving not to fall into the parent trap of comparing ourselves to others, I’m learning that looking further ahead than a few days or weeks is really not going to be helpful.

The best piece of advice I’ve read from another parent of a child with autism, is that living in the moment is all you can really do without going crazy.

Of course putting it into practice is much harder. I’m a planner, an organiser, a self-confessed perfectionist and I like to know not just what’s immediately ahead of me, but way round the corner as well.

Well the simple fact is that I have no idea whether Blue-eyed boy will ever ‘talk normally’, whether he’ll find it really hard to make friends as he grows up, whether he’ll be accepted socially by his peers along with his little quirks (as I like to think of them) and how he’ll cope with people realising that yes, he is different, but that’s what makes him so unique and special.

And I have to learn to accept that.

Lesson three, of becoming a parent with a child with ASD, has fortunately been a lot easier to stomach.

Namely that if you have good friends who understand, or try to, about our lovely boy’s condition, who accept, embrace and also love him for who he is, it  makes this strange, new world a hell of a lot easier to navigate.

What we’re also learning is that we’re surrounded by an amazing group of people who not only ‘get it’, but love and cherish our charming little man along with us and are rooting for him all the way.

And we, and he, are SO lucky to have them.