Last Wednesday I got my hair cut. Until Wednesday, I’d had pretty much the same hairstyle for about a decade. I was in dire need of something new. My stylist had suggested that I get bangs about a year ago, and I finally decided that yes, I did want bangs. Whenever I talked with anyone about it, I was told how trendy they are (I’m not necessarily what you’d consider to be a trendy person), but I was okay with that because I need a little trendy in my life.
So I got bangs cut.
I won’t lie, after the first snip I felt my stomach drop and thought, “{censored.} This is a HUGE mistake.” But it wasn’t. By the time my stylist was done with me, I was thrilled. I was even more thrilled after I heard from several people at work that I look younger and thinner. Wow. You can’t get much better than that!!!
My children’s reactions were not quite as positive. I walked in the house and they just stared at me. Henry finally realized that he was staring, and he very unconvincingly said, “I like you haircut.” (They say “you” instead of “your,” which I love.) Rosemary, my little fashionista, followed me around a bit, watching me as I put down my purse and file then washed my hands. Finally I looked her straight in the eyes, and she declared, “I don’t like you haircut.” I told her I was sorry.
Piper is my little pleaser. She always wants to make people happy. In her typical positive, optimistic, glass-half-full manner, she informed me, “Mama, I like the bottom of you haircut.” Because I couldn’t leave well enough alone, I patted my bangs and asked if she liked the top of my haircut. “No,” she said, “but I like the bottom of you haircut.” Sweet girl.
Penelope stared at me for long enough to be sure that I was her mama, and she didn’t care beyond that. I assume you may want to see a photo, so here is an iPhone snap that Auntie Ann took right before we headed to church on Sunday:
With Gary being out of town and unaware of my haircut, I didn’t want to make this blog post until now. I didn’t want him to learn about my bangs over a blog post instead of in person. But, he seems to be okay with my bangs. Or he was until tonight. . . .
When we got home today, Miss Sally had an interesting story for us. After naptime, she went upstairs to get Henry. He wasn’t in his room. He and Penelope share a jack-and-jill bath, and he’d walked through to her room and was in her room. When Miss Sally went to get Penelope out of her bed, there was a good bit of loose hair on her. Like, Penelope’s hair. There was a pair of safety scissors nearby. When Miss Sally picked Penelope up, she noticed that some hair on Penelope was gone. As in the front of her hair was about one inch long, like she has bangs. There was a pair of safety scissors on Penelope’s dresser.
Henry insisted that he didn’t cut Penelope’s hair.
Sure.
Gary immediately told me that this was all my fault because I got bangs cut. He was joking . . . sort of. Not really.
So, Miss Sally told us the story when we got home. We went over the whole what-is-a-lie-and-what-is-the-truth thing with the kids, and Henry insisted that he didn’t cut Penelope’s hair. He also said that he didn’t even go into Penelope’s room – but Miss Sally found him in there.
We sent Henry to his room. I got ready for dinner, and Gary prepared himself to have the lie-versus-truth talk with Henry. Gary was, in my opinion, remarkably successful. Henry stayed upstairs for about 10 minutes before Gary went up there, then Gary was with him for about 10 minutes. Henry came clean. They decided on a punishment of some time in the corner, and Henry served his time well. He came downstairs and apologized to me for lying, and told me the truth. He then apologized to Penelope for cutting her hair.
It was about this time that I noticed that Henry’s hair was significantly shorter in the front than it was this morning. {Insert more censored thoughts here.} I care about Henry’s hair for sure, but Gary really cares about Henry’s hair. It’s not that Gary is projecting and treating Henry’s hair as his own . . . but he is.
So, I started messing with Henry’s hair and determined that it was in fact, cut. Gary noticed what I was doing, and was.not.happy.at.all. I asked Henry if he cut his own hair. He said no. Gary asked him if that was a lie, and he said yes and fessed up to cutting his own hair.
At this point, Gary is unabashedly staring at me as though I am the sole cause of this whole unauthorized hair cutting debacle. We had a long talk with all of the kids about how the ONLY person who cuts anyone’s hair is Peter and how we definitely do not cut each other’s hair. We also talked with all of the kids about how we do not lie. Ever.
Fast forward a bit. Gary got a hairbrush and was brushing through Henry’s hair to determine just how bad it was. I must admit that I giggled a bit through this, because Henry did a remarkably excellent job of cutting his own bangs. They are right over his brows and straight as straight can be. Quite impressive. BUT they are shorter than his hair was. . . .
Gary may or may not have said, “Now three of the six of us have {censored} bangs!!”
Gary is p*ssed. Super p*ssed. AT ME. Because I got bangs cut and somehow that meant it was okay for Henry to cut bangs for himself and Penelope?!! Every once in a while, he glares at me. He doesn’t know that I’m sitting here drafting this blog post right now, and he occasionally just stares at me. I don’t know that he’ll get over this one anytime soon. . . .
