That’s What She Said

On Saturday, a mom and fellow blogger I had never met outside of Facebook donated her son’s very first haircut to the Donna’s Good Things shave event for St. Baldrick’s.  It moved me, this kind gesture, which I secretly thought of as “pimping the cut,” despite that being terribly uncouth.

When I first learned of the gesture I thought, “Oh, that’s sweet, like so sweet,” and went along the business of planning an annual event that hopes to raise $40-$50K for childhood cancer research.  There are details, you know?  As our event got closer, I started to pay more attention.  There was a personal connection, I think, when I stopped to think about the significance of donating a first haircut.

First haircuts are important.  Somewhere, in deep storage, wrapped in a softened paper towel and brown paper bag are my very first braids, cut off at seven when my curly hair was far too unruly for my mom who had just gotten a job and needed to be there by 7 am daily.   Unruly curls need taming and taming takes time.  Hence, the haircut and the anemic braids of a fine haired curly girl resting in storage, still important enough to hold on to all these years later.

Donna’s first haircut came not from a stylist while she was proudly sitting up in a barber chair shaped like a taxi cab.  There was no lollipop at the end for being a good girl.  No, Donna’s first haircut was provided by her neurosurgeon while she was anesthetized and lying on an OR table.  And this isn’t even being melodramatic, but simply factual.    That beautiful surgeon took the time to tie those first clipped curls of Donna’s with a pretty little blue bow and put them in a Ziplock for us to keep.  I lost them almost immediately.

But I digress.

Here was a mom I didn’t know who was so moved by my daughter’s story of childhood cancer that she was offering up her son’s very first haircut. This beautiful boy will always and forever know that his blond curls that ringed his tiny toddler head helped raise money for children with cancer. That is quite a story.

St. Baldrick’s events are full of stories.  I have come to understand in my three years of hosting them, that choosing to shave is very much like choosing to adorn yourself with a tattoo.  There is usually something very personal and moving behind that choice.  And folks on the outside don’t always get it.

But sometimes, like with this boy’s Mom, you get to hear the story and understand what went behind the choice to shave to raise desperately needed dollars for pediatric cancer research.  In her blog, The Tot Wrangler, this funny, sparkling, snarky Mom gets serious and emotional.  And I, if even for a moment, get to be the proverbial fly on the wall.

And it is an odd wall to be on, when someone uses words to try and  imagine the worst, more terrifying moments of your life.  And more so, when she is successful.  The Tot Wrangler’s little one had his beautiful curls shorn off and he was bald.  But beyond that, with his wee little stature, his bald head made him look more vulnerable than he really was and Mom describes powerfully what that feels like.  Read it here.  It will move you and help you understand what it is like to parent a bald child.

Another shavee, moved by Donna’s story, opted to shave her own hair, also raising lots and lots of dollars for research.  In prepping for event day, I take a look through the shavee list, wondering who I know, who is a returning shavee (my favorite kind), who is new to the fold.  This year we had 11 men and 11 women signed up a few weeks ahead of time.  Our events are known to attract a lot of women shavees, no doubt because of this here blog.  Most of my readers are women, yo.

RaeEtta, one of our 2014 shavees, and one of many shavees with a story to tell.  We are grateful.
RaeEtta, one of our 2014 shavees, and one of many shavees with a story to tell. We are grateful.

And this year, like the two years previous, are women I don’t know, haven’t met, willing to do something I myself have not done — get intimate with a set of clippers.  Very intimate.  This astounds me and flabbergasts me and makes me feel all ‘I wanna run for the hills’ because of the enormity of the gratitude I feel towards them.

It’s hard to find the words, but I will use the ones I wrote earlier tonight:

When I am brutally honest, I can admit that I frequently wonder what in the hell I ever did to be surrounded by so many abundant expressions of kindness and generosity. Like yours. I have no idea how I am so blessed.

And as I sit here late at night writing this, I am literally shaking my head, cause, yes, these amazing, humbling, beautiful and powerful gestures of kindness towards my family and our cause, many from strangers, started way back in 2007 with Donna’s diagnosis, and they have never stopped.

They are overwhelming in the most lovely of ways.  I will never, ever be able to properly express the gratitude I feel for them.  It is an endless well of thankfulness inside me, constantly flowing and sometimes pulling me under so profoundly that the only thing that helps is an hour of inane reality television, preferably with a Real Housewife on a House Hunt somewhere or other, where the people are not so grateful.

Does that make any sense?  Probably not.  I’m still trying to figure it out.

The takeaway from this here post is one of gratitude.  Thank you to all the folks who so thoroughly support our efforts to raise money for St. Baldrick’s, the number one private funder of pediatric cancer research.  I know that like Donna and like me, you have something in you that led you to this kindness of yours.  You mean something to me, even if I fumble too much to properly express that to you.  Even if I sometimes get so overwhelmed by your brave and continuing acts of kindness and compassion that I want to run for the hills for fear I will never be able to repay them.  Even if I don’t always know how to say it.  Thank you.  

Kids Helping Kids: Children Shaving to Support Childhood Cancer

Children shaving their heads and going bald for other children with cancer has made a big splash in the news this past week.  Or maybe that’s specific to my newsfeed — that of a mom who lost a child to cancer and who has more than a few friends in the same boat.

A troubling story out of Colorado detailed how a local charter school banned a little girl from attending classes, citing her newly shaved bald head as defying the school’s dress code policy.  UGH.  Nine year old Kamryn shaved her head in solidarity with her good friend Delaney who is in active cancer treatment and has lost her hair as a result.  In the end, the parents appealed the school’s decision, and after a 3-1 vote, Kamryn’s suspension was mooted and she was allowed to return to school.  Shame on the lone vote in favor of her remaining suspended.

Then there is third grader Luca from California who organized nineteen of his classmates to shave their heads to raise over $25K for St. Baldrick’s.  Luca originally shaved his head two years ago while  in the first grade to support his sister who was bald as a result of her cancer treatment.  Some of his peeps made fun of him, which, understandably, he found upsetting.  Rather than fret, Luca organized so he could help other kids understand that being bald is not so bad.

I love children.

When our daughter Donna was in treatment and without hair as a result, the few times we were able to go out into the world safely (because of her suppressed immune system), there was certain to be stares.  Children stared, too, because Donna looked differently from them, but children asked questions.  Innocent questions that their parents often were embarrassed by or shooshed.  Those questions were always welcomed by me and answered simply and in a way little ones could understand.  Donna was taking a special medicine that made her hair fall out.  It would grow back.

Donna was young enough at four and had spent enough time without hair that her bald head didn’t bother her as much as it most likely would have if she were even a year or two older.

When our charity, Donna’s Good Things, aligned with St. Baldrick’s three years ago to support their efforts to fund pediatric cancer research, I never really thought too much about children volunteering to shave.  That changed the day of our first shave when the daughter of a friend offered her head and most of her classmates came along to cheer her on.

Last year there were two little girls that took my breath away and raised A LOT of money in the process.

This year is no different.  We have three little ones on our shavee roster for tomorrow afternoon and I cannot wait to cheer them on and support them.

  • Jax is a wee little toddler who will receive his very first haircut at the hands of our volunteer barber (thanks Robert Jeffrey Salon!)
  • Aiden lives in our community and frequents Candlelite Chicago who generously hosts our event.  He asked his Mom if he could shave when he saw the signs at the restaurant.
  • Lucas is the son of blogging friends and has seen both his Mom and Step-dad shave for us.  This year he wanted to do it, too.

Come on, now.  I mean how can you not be moved by children who choose compassion, kindness, bravery, and generosity?  It practically moves me to tears.

I asked Lucas’ Mom, Karin, if he might answer some questions for me and they both happily agreed.  The mother-son shaving team is called Everything is Awesome!, which sounds just about right to me.  Lucas is seven and, yes, a little worried that he will be teased when he returns to school on Monday.  Despite that fear, though, he says, “I really wanted to shave my head because I wanted to raise money for kids with cancer and I wanted to help tons of kids with cancer!”  I do, too, Lucas!

Just look at those curls on Lucas.
Just look at those curls on Lucas.

Lucas, who has a fine head of dark curls, went on to say, “I have lots of curly hair and I’m shaving it because I don’t really care about my hair. It makes me happy to shave it because I’m raising money. I think it’s important. I’m raising money for kids cancer and the money goes to St. Baldrick’s to help kids with cancer.”

Lucas gets it.  He gets it more than those first grade classmates who teased the California boy, and he gets it more than the Colorado school board that literally suspended a nine year old girl shaving to support her friend.  Lucas gets it.

The mission of our charity is to both do Good Things in Donna’s name, but also to support others to do Good Things that were inspired by Donna or influenced by learning of her story.  Karin and her husband support St. Baldrick’s and have been to all three of our events, raising money and awareness ever since they learned of little Donna through my words.  As their children have grown in those three years, they now better know and understand childhood cancer, too.

Lucas wants to help.  I want to support him.

As parents or adults, one of the most important things we could ever hope to accomplish in this life is help instill compassion and empathy in the children in our lives.  When kids choose kindness, support that.  When kids choose love and generosity, support that.

So often I think it is that our children teach us, not the reverse.  Donna taught me so very much.  She still teaches me, despite her absence.  And every year, as March rolls around, I find that the kid volunteer shavees that come on out for us teach me, too.

Lucas knows a lot.  I want him to know that I see that and recognize his kind gesture and compassion.  I will show him that by making a donation to him and can’t wait to see the smile on his face tomorrow.

I would ask you, too, to support Lucas and our other short shavees.  If you click on any of the names above, you will be linked to their individual fundraising pages.  Those $3, $5, $7 and $10 donations really add up — and remember, when you are a little one, $3 is a lot of money, hell, $10 is through the roof!

Everything is Awesome, indeed, Lucas!  Thank you, sweet boy!  And thank you to all the parents who support the kind and loving actions of their children.

To the Woman Sitting Next to Us at Tufano’s Vernon Park Tap on Sunday Afternoon

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I don’t know you, but was seated next to you yesterday afternoon at Trufano’s Vernon Park Tap — a Chicago institution.  We arrived at 5:30.  I saw you walk in just before us and thought to myself — “She’s cute — looks like a nice gal.”  I honestly had that thought.  Pffft.

It was not crowded, but getting there.  We had timed it right.  After a wait of just a few minutes we got seated.  There were four of us — my husband, my five year old boy, myself, and our sleeping baby.  We were coming off a late afternoon visit to the zoo and in a grand frame of mind. The sun was shining in Chicago, the snow melting, and today’s forecast started with the number 5.  Woot Woot!

I was in a great mood.

As the hostess showed us to our table, I thought again, “There’s that cute gal,” as it was clear we would be sitting right next to you, but then I saw you roll your eyes, nudge your man’s elbow across the table, and say, “LOOK,” before nodding your head in our direction.  Yes, I have eyes and I saw you.  My initial thought was FU, cause we teach our kiddos how to behave in restaurants and I didn’t like the assumptions you were making.

You see, dear lady, I am a mom blogger.  I spend lots of time on this here Internet in the mom world.  I’ve read stories like this one before where rude strangers pop off at parents in places like airplanes and restaurants. I know it’s a thing on the Internet — just another way for people to bitch and moan and complain about folks different than themselves, so I’ve never really engaged this topic on my blog.  I find it boring.

But there you were, in all your Lululemon glory, eating dinner with your husband or brother or cousin or boyfriend at a two top.  And there we were, your family from hell, apparently, seated right next to you at the four top.  Oddly, we were probably a lot like you — trying to grab an early dinner at a beloved neighborhood joint before going home and calling it a weekend.

It’s a really, really odd and unnerving feeling to know that your mere presence, or, let’s be honest, the presence of your children, causes a stranger annoyance and distress.  Enough annoyance and distress that it’s visible and not hidden from you.  I whispered to my husband, “Oops, looks like we annoyed the couple there,” posted a quick update on the FB, too, as I felt like I was caught in an Internet phenomenon and where better to address that than the Internet?

Here is the happily sleeping baby that was so annoying to the couple behind him.
Here is the happily sleeping baby that was so annoying to the couple behind him.

Then, I moved on.  Took the movie’s advice and “Let it Go.”

We ordered our food, kept our five year old occupied, as he was hungry and, yes, a little cranky.  The drinks and salads arrived.  Trufano’s is old school, so we treated our son to a kiddie cocktail and split our iceberg lettuce salad three ways.  Our boy went back and forth two or three times between his seat and my lap.  He was occupied, though, and not loud or bothersome.  These days, knowing that his time on my lap will be over soon enough, I enjoy those moments.  He knew that when the food arrived his place was back at his own seat.

The baby kept sleeping.

You snickered when I took a photo of my son’s kiddie cocktail.  Yep, I saw and heard that, too.  Whatever, I thought.  Kiddie cocktails are awesome and bubbly and I had just deleted like 200 photos from my phone that afternoon, so was feeling antsy to be able to use the camera again with the extra storage freed up.

I mean, COME ON -- just look at that bubbly goodness!
I mean, COME ON — just look at that bubbly goodness!

Like my son, I was hungry and really looking forward to eating.  Again — this meal felt celebratory.  Life is good right now and I don’t take that for granted.  It felt really, really nice to sit in a restaurant surrounded by my three boys.  This meal out was unexpected, but really appreciated. Trufano’s is such a joint, full of atmosphere and families and hustle and bustle, that it was just great to be out after the longest of winters.

Our food arrived with cheers from my son.  Hooray! I snapped another photo, because my plate looked awesome and I wanted to save the moment and yes, it’s a thing now for folks to snap photos of food before they eat it.  That annoyed you, too, and merited more eye rolls, another nudge to your partner, and the head nod accompanied by the mouthed, “Oh God.”

Wow.  Did it bother you, I wondered, that I took a photo of my food? Wow — really?  I marveled at how problem free your life must be if a stranger seated at the next table pushing a button on her phone caused you such distress.

You were ticking me off and it was harder to ignore you at this point.

Not a moment later, our baby let out a squawk.  Yes, a loud squawk.  He woke up in an unfamiliar place and squawked.  Six month old babies do that.  As I picked him up, I heard your loud, “OH GOD,” with more eye rolling and elbow nudging of your dinner mate.  That sort of did it for me.  I looked at you and said, “Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.” I think my meaning was totally lost on you.  You smiled back at me warmly like I was an idiot and you had no idea why I was addressing you.

I was addressing you, dear lady, because you were rude and judgemental throughout our thirty minutes of sitting four feet away from you and I had had just about enough.  When a baby cries and before his mama can even pick him up to walk away you loudly proclaim, “OH GOD,” well, gal, you got some issues.

Trufano’s is a family joint.  This is no Alinea.  This is a family run business in a residential neighborhood.  There were no less than six babies in car seats that I saw, at least a dozen toddlers through tweens.  Much of the menu is offered family style and it was 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon. Sheesh.  If a family with a baby is not able to eat at that kind of restaurant at that time of day, well, then, banish us all for the 18 years until our kids are raised and out of the house.

You might like that.

I left the table with my baby because I didn’t want to disturb those around me.  When you go out to eat at a restaurant, as I always tell my son, no one wants to hear crying and misbehaving.  Restaurants are special, because you are eating in community with others.  That means if our kids are causing a disturbance, we act as responsible parents and leave the room, so as not to disturb.  That’s just what we do.  That means, also, that you don’t obviously communicate to the family sitting next to you that you find their mere presence a nuisance.  I wish it were as easy to teach you as it is my son about those important lessons in civility and community.

In the end, I didn’t come back to the table.  I really didn’t want to see you again.  I will enjoy the food for lunch today.  Baby and I were happily welcomed at an empty spot at the bar in the next room  and folks around us actually enjoyed him and oohed and aahed over him, asking after his name and pinching his formidable cheeks.  You know, like most folks respond to a baby in a family restaurant.

I think what annoys me most about this photo is that it sucks -- I would have taken a better one, but after hearing the "Oh God," comment from the gal four feet away, I put the phone down.
The offending food photo.  It will make a good lunch today!

I don’t know your story and after I hit publish on this post, I’ll forget about you, dear lady.  But honestly?  I feel badly for you.  You must be sad and that must suck.  Here’s to a brighter future for you, full of quiet and solitude.  Oh, and my guess is that whole yoga thing is not working for you, so it’s sort of pointless to invest in the Lululemon gear.

Namaste, dear lady.  Namaste.

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