Against my Better Judgement . . .

Last night I was looking at my sons’ overgrown heads and thought I should really cut their hair. I started cutting their hair when they were very young and autistic. You really can’t ask anyone to cut the hair of a screaming, fighting, escape-artist of a child. I used to put William in the high chair, turn on Blue’s Clues, feed him suckers, have Jared hold his hands down and buzz his hair off as quickly as possible while he screamed at the top of his lungs. He screamed so gustily at times that he had little pinpricks of broken blood vessels on his body. He is significantly better now, but the last time I took him somewhere to get his hair cut he was so intimidating that he left with the same hair cut I give. I figured I’d save the 18 bucks and cut it myself.

I have a long history of hair cutting. I used to cut my own hair; it’s not a big deal if you don’t care about the end result. Years ago, I was in the bathroom cutting my hair my husband came in, gasped in horror, he told me to stop because I was cutting chunks out of my hair. I told him to fix it. He made two microscopic snips then refused to cut anymore. I think I stopped cutting my own hair shortly after that.

So, I cut the boys’ hair. Lizzy asked me to cut her hair so I did. Then Bri asked me to cut hers. I didn’t really want to. I told her I didn’t know how to do layers. She asked me to a couple of times and I finally agreed. I started by holding a small section of hair and trying to cut it up at an angle. It didn’t give me very high layers. Next I divided her hair into three sections – top, middle and bottom. I cut the middle section in a higher “layer.” Bad idea! Now there was a very noticeable step in her hair. I evened her hair up to that “layer.” But I wasn’t done yet. I tried to cut it up at an angle again. Didn’t work. There was a noticeable chunk missing from part of her hair. I stopped. I think we need a professional to fix it.

My husband has never let me cut his hair, can’t image why.