Guys, the BEST thing about being a mom of boys, hands down, is taking them to the barbershop. Now, I know there are probably many of you who do the snip-snip yourself at home. All I have to say is, “YOU WIN!”
Come to think of it, I should write another book titled “Mom’s Not Cuttin’ Your Hair.” Cuz this mom surely ain’t doin’ it.
I would consider myself a fairly competent “Jack of all trades,” but I know my limitations. I barely know how to fix my own hair, much less lay scissors to another human’s head. One time, when I was in high school, my brother let me attempt to cut his hair with the clippers. All I’m going to say is: sheep have looked better after half their coat is lying on the ground.
Good thing that particular brother is neither vain nor given to fits of rage. Sorry, Will. I obviously learned my lesson. Again… I now know my limitations.
So, yes, we work the every-2-months-or-so haircuts into the family budget. This self-proclaimed Jack-of-all-trades will leave hair cutting to our favorite barbershop, Barbershop Jack… and now I do, in fact, know Jack about hair. I found a GREAT barber and they educated me on the nuances of boy-shearing.
And hair mowing day is my favorite day ever.
My three wild little things have been going ever since they were tiny. The barbers have been patient and kind and even when they screamed, just handed them more lollipops. When we walk in, they head straight for the lollipop bowl and I just look the other way– I don’t know what sort of crimes are being committed and what kind of sugar is being consumed. It’s kind of like the grandparents’ house. I’m in such a good mood that nothing can destroy it. Not even ridiculous sugared-up boys.
They hop up in the chair with their little fuzzy, hair-covered lollipops and they ask if the barber will turn on “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” The barber looks at me. Me: “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll allow it.”
The barbers and I will catch up on their lives and families, because you know…. little boys watching Spongebob are not the most loquacious conversationalists.
By this time, the barbers all know how I like their hair. Sammy bucked the system the last time and told me he wanted his head shaved just like Josh’s. Josh’s hair is particularly wiry and looks fine cut really close. Sammy… just looks weird. BUUUT… I decided it was just one of those things I needed to let him do. And so he did it. And he really liked it. But about a week ago, he decided he wanted to be able to “style” his hair. So the next time, he declared he was going to leave it long. My mama’s heart breathed a sigh of relief.
Barbershop Jack is an oasis in my life. They have cold drinks in the fridge for the hot, hot AZ summers. Comfy couches and lots of reading material for both kids and adults. It has the feel of a local hometown barber shop, but in the middle of busy Phoenix, AZ.
They even have a female barber who has a background in salon hair. I’ve been known to sit myself down while the boys are getting theirs cut and get a quick trim. And I usually have a baby sitting on my lap. Not exactly a nice and relaxing day at the spa, but it gets the job done and there will be plenty of spa time available when my babies are older.
The. Very. Best. Thing is when the boys get out of the chair. It’s my one shot at perfection. My one shot at “no-hair-out-of-place-preciousness” that somehow erases all of the insane/stupid things they did that week. I clap my hands and squeal and yell “YOU ARE SO HANDSOME” uncontrollably, practically crying with joy. The barbershop is used to it and they just tip their hat waiting for the slobbery sappy mom to simmer down and pay the bill.
The other day, I was in the kitchen fixing dinner and helping Sammy with his homework at the kitchen table. I sent the other two upstairs to take showers. I thought to myself, “It’s mighty quiet up there.” And based on my experience, I should have gone to check. But based on my tiredness, I let it be.
The photo attached to this post is the result of “letting it be.”
Needless to say, I let them go to school like that the next day. I asked Josh if many people commented. He said, “Oh, about four…” and shrugged his shoulders. And then life happened and I forgot to take them to get it fixed. TJ will pretty much have to have his luxurious hair shaved off in order to right the wrongs.
And that is really the only reason I am mad. TJ will shatter my barbershop zen because his head will look like the surface of a baby’s bottom.
But I have faith in you, Don and all the crew at Barbershop Jack. You are miracle workers. I’m just going to grab my Dr. Pepper, lean back on the couch and zone out to Spongebob. Because a nice afternoon at the barbershop covers a multitude of sins.
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An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.
