I can't put my finger on why it is, but I am completely obsessed with cutting my kids' hair. And...I am completely and utterly terrible at it. Maybe I have some sort of subconscious love of haircare, but honestly, the obsession has turned quite ugly. Literally.
Fortunately, my three year old is terrified of the hair salon, so I get my practice cuts on him, and his little brother. It's pretty hilarious actually, my methods, that is. For instance, when I am cutting my baby's hair, typically I bribe him to sit in a chair out on the porch, with some sort of pop. He then proceeds to take the pop and wriggle his way out of the chair, all the while I am cutting and cutting at his chocolate locks. And as I cut each strand, it falls down onto his face, where it lands right onto his sticky mouth. And there it stays. Sometimes, it even lands in his mouth. When that happens, he usually grabs at his tongue with his free hand, (also covered in hair), and shouts, "Mama, yu-yuck." You'd think that would prompt me to take him to the barber...nope, I like a challenge. So I proceed to chase him around the yard with a pair of scissors, and snip every time he pauses. Let's just say, he will be sporting the "layered" and "messy" look for awhile.
But today, my baby's hair was not the problem. My middle son has this fear of the salon. I've tried many different places, even the real expensive kid's ones, that make it pretty much like a party every time you get your hair cut. Nope, he won't do it. He refuses the prizes, and the cut. So, as his sideburns started to creep around his chin this weekend, I decided that it was time for me to dust off the ol' shears. I told him that if he didn't let me cut his hair, I would have to take him to the haircut lady. He promptly complied.
My skills are what you'd call progressive. When I first begin the cut, I completely forget what I am doing, what number is the shortest, and how to even hold the scissors. I begin to sweat and my pulse races. My son senses my incompetence and begins his hour long taunting of, "can I get down yet?" Usually, about ten minutes into the cut though, I figure out what I'm doing. Just like riding a bike. What happened today though, has got to be my worst performance yet.
I began his cut with the clippers, and was just starting to get the hang of them when, oops! "MAMA, my ear, it hurts so bad!!" And then the tears...I thought those clippers were supposed to be safe...I'm going to have to sue Conair. Anyway, it's sounds much worse then it was, and I quickly grabbed a red towel, (we, moms know what that means), and I managed to calm my son.
Maybe it was the Holy Spirit, or maybe it was the fact that I had to use chicken shears because I couldn't find the haircutting scissors, but something inside of me said, "Stop Now!" A few more uneven snips off the top, and I knew I was in over my head. I approached my son with yet another offer, and told him that if we went to the haircut lady, she would cut it real fast...and I would buy him a toy. And wouldn't you know, he agreed. Unbelievable.
A quick shower later, and I had loaded up all the kids and were on our way to Costcutters. I was slightly mortified to tell the lady that I had butchered my son's hair, especially when she looked at all three of my kids and said, "Oh...he must be the one." But I humbly took my seat and watched in awe as my son conquered one of his biggest fears, right before my eyes. I couldn't believe it. He sat like such a big boy and actually got his hair cut...no fuss, no nothing. And I even heard him talking to the lady! Another major feat! And I didn't even mind as I overheard him tell the lady, "and Daddy was very mad at us!" I had no idea what he was talking about...but I didn't care. I was just so happy that his hair was fixed, and his fear was gone.
Maybe, it wasn't such a bad idea to cut his hair after all.
