The four of us checked in at the salon one Sunday afternoon. Pesh and Raine needed to have their hairs done for school, while I had mine done as usual. Little Ella carries a head full of hair, alright, but a little rub with baby oil does it for now. We walked in to a warm reception and were directed to sit. My hairdresser was too kind, perhaps because she had estimated the amount I would leave behind and it made her happy. She took in my huge family and even offered to have one of her staff sit with Ella until I was done. That was a cool idea, except, Ella had her reservations.
Tantrums of a five-month-old
The designated nanny for the day walked up to me wearing a broad smile. I looked down at Ella hoping she would smile back, but to my dismay, she was wide-eyed terrified. Her tiny mouth pulled apart, I knew what would happen next. She let out a loud shriek, just as her tiny hands grabbed me tightly. “Oh dear me!” designated nanny was taken aback. “Doesn’t she like dark complexion?” Why does everyone think light skin babies are racist? I rolled my eyes halfway and hoped she didn’t notice it. Flo, my hairdresser, rushed to the rescue only to end up rejected too. Looking at my state, I had two choices. Get my hair done with baby in my arms or go to work looking like I just escaped a fire.
It was bad having to cover up my baby through hair drying and spraying sessions. This was not the place to have a child, but looking at my schedule, I had no other day to accommodate everyone. I could not pass by the salon on a weekday and spend two more hours with unrefrigerated breast milk. So, with my writing gigs running 24 hours a day, my only resolve was to either cut my hair, lock it or wear it natural. I decided to lock dreads. And I did.