Master of None

I'm not really a DIY type person except in desperate situations. Unfortunately, I am married to an engineer and that type thinks they are jacks of all trades, experts in everything, no training needed. Combine that with the genetic need for every father to try his hand at cutting his son's hair, and you have disaster written all over it.

For the last nine years, I have steadfastly held to the position that my husband is NOT to touch our son's hair. I take him regularly to get his hair cut by someone trained to do it. The problem is that my son has the worst hair on the planet. All sorts of cowlicks and double-crowns, growing nicely in one direction and then jetting off in another. So no matter who cuts his hair, it always looks terrible--with one exception--my marathon friend, Karen, who was a hairdresser in her past life. However, Karen is now a stay-at-home mom like me, and her kids are in school at the same time mine are. That sounds really convenient, but it is actually terribly hard to coordinate our schedules to get a haircut. So although Eric's hair has looked better this year than it ever has before, John gets a little impatient by haircut time. About a month ago, he hacked, whacked and trimmed Eric's hair into a little cyclone looking style. I almost resorted to a buzz cut, but since his hair grows in every direction, even that looks bad.

Soooo, last night I started digging in my ever-increasing library and found that at one point I must have been contemplating cutting hair, because I found a book entitled "Cutting your family's hair". Of course, for you that know me well, I already had a little arsenal of hairstyling tools including clippers, hair scissors, thinning shears and even the little "groom yourself" thingy they show on TV. After mulling the book over for the afternoon, reading all the tips on how to hold your scissors correctly, following guides and all, I sat Eric down on the toilet seat and began cutting away. The difference between me and John is that whatever the outcome of John's haircut is, he prides himself on doing it himself. He'll tell everybody he did it and complement himself on a job well done. My deal is that if it looks bad, Eric is not to tell anybody that mom did it.

I about drove myself crazy with all the measuring, going around the ears, cleaning up around the back and all, but I can say that it looks better than the last shop I took him to. I just have to stop looking at it under a magnifying glass every time he walks by me, because all the little imperfections are driving me nuts. I predict I'll be visiting marathon Karen before long.