Monday, February 18, 2013

And the Mom of the Year Award goes to......

One of my most feel-good memories of childhood is sitting by the fire and my mom blow-drying my hair.  BEST.  FEELING.  EVER.  I've always loved when people play with my hair and even pay my children to do it now.  Yes--I pay my children to play with my hair.  I also fall asleep when my hair dresser cuts my hair and blows it dry.  :-)  That, of course, is probably because it's the longest I ever sit still anymore.  Anyway, I digress.....this memory popped into my head and I thought--why not do this with my boys?  It's so cold it will be nice to blow dry their hair for them after their bath.

Josh (my 4 year old) is hilarious because he's very particular about his hair.  He wants his hair "flat."  Well, as I'm blowing his hair dry--I am reminded that he needs a hair cut (wait--I'm reminded every time I look at him that he needs a freaking hair cut), so I pull out my scissors and begin to play hair dresser.  Ahhh--a child's dream....the ability to have a "client" in front of you and the ability to be the hairdresser and actually cut the "clients" hair.  Okay--maybe I was have a little too much fun living out a childhood memory.  Anyway, I snip a little around the ears--just a little trim.  Then, I realize...I've given my child a mullet.  WHAT?!  I've actually cut my child's hair and now he has a MULLET!  Okay--calm down...time to fix this....cut a little here....cut a little there...... was fun while it lasted,  We now have a 4 year old with a 1970's "bowl" cut.  Yup.  Mom of the year award.  Josh runs to look in the mirror and screams, "YOU LIED TO ME!  I LOOK LIKE DANNY NOW!"  I assure him that he does not.....and what do I do.....I proceed to cut Timmy's hair.  Not only do I get the Mom of the Year Award, but I also get Idiot of the Year Award.

So now, my family looks like we belong in That 70's Show....but not in a good way.  We need to fix their hair tonight or they won't hear the end of it at school.  Ugh--and I was trying to do a good thing.

Oh--and I refuse to take pictures to document this event.  Poor boys!  :-(

Note to self:  No more playing hairdresser.  Blow-drying hair is fine, but no scissors for mommy.

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