I cried last night.
Not out of happiness....
Or even sadness.....
Purely out of frustration and mortification.
It was haircut night. It started out with a three year old happily hopping up on the chair for his turn, watching Bolt to keep himself busy. It quickly turned to raspy commands coming from my lips like, "Just hold still, dangit!" which only brought on more wiggles and complaints about an itchy neck from my boy. This is the kid who freaks out when his nose runs or he has chocolate on his hands (he likes Skittles the most for this very reason) - hair all over his neck is a sensory nightmare.
Which means haircuts are a mommy nightmare.
We were almost done with his simple buzz cut. I brought out the shortest attachment to do some clean up work around the edges.
One wrong move, and then there it was - an almost bald spot covering about three inches on the side of his head.
What could I do? I really only had one option.....
Shave the rest of it, with shaking hands, to match the short spot, while crying and yelling, "What have I done?!!!!"
Which explains why, today, my son looks like he is going to either A) a work camp, or B) a skinhead rally.
Chad, who played the part of the calm and collected parent last night, convinced Gabe that his haircut is the best thing that has ever happened. One of the first things Gabe said to me this morning was "Mom, feel my hair! It's cool!"
I noticed some horribly patchy spots this morning, which means the clippers have to come out again tonight. Plus Colin never got his turn last night (I figured I would save his disfiguration for another night, thank you very much)so I have to do him as well. Heaven help us all.
