Friday, September 3, 2010
These days it seems we pack in so much activity it makes my head spin. We haven't even hit the period of shuffling Vaughn back and forth to various things so I'm not sure how we'll figure out how to squeeze that in when the time comes. All I know is when we have too much going on- life and work seem to blend together into one big Outlook Calendar and everything is broken down into how much time we have before we have to be to the next thing and it drives me nuts.
This past week was particularly bad with Jacob and I having something planned all seven days in a row. On Monday, Jacob had band practice and Vaughn and I were going to just hang out. I went upstairs to the bathroom to trim my bangs when Vaughn came up, noticed what I was doing and said he might like his hair trimmed too. Vaughn had been growing his hair out for probably two years and it would have been just gorgeous had it not been for the unfortunate decision to shave the sides and underneath the back in an attempt to make it less full and puffy (some of us would kill for this problem). At the time I didn't consider that this hair style would stick around and I never imagined we'd be dealing with a painfully grown out mullet. I was never allowed to even it out and any mention of trimming it was rebuffed with the reminder that it was his hair and he'd do what he wanted. Perhaps he harbored certain memories.
Anyway- let's just say once again we had a certain communication breakdown. I really thought I had been given permission to cut it up to even it out with his sides but alas, I was sadly mistaken. Halfway through the haircut (which, truth be told wasn't going that well because his hair is tricky) he got up to look and then exploded into a rage I didn't think eight year olds who haven't been severely abused ever experience. After being yelled at to "Get OUT" of his room I paced and frantically deliberated my next move while he alternated between yelling "I can't believe this is happening!" to just engaging in some primal screaming.
Because I always do my best work under pressure it suddenly hit me that maybe a professional haircut could make things better since I was no longer allowed near his person. It turned out that was a brilliant suggestion and he put on a hat and prepared to go. Now? We had to go NOW? We had no car. If we were more bike or public transportation savvy this might not have been a big deal but I might has well have been stranded on a desert island without a boat. Yes, we had to go now. Not a single person could see him until his hair was fixed.
A frantic call to Annalee got us a ride to Bishops where the hair cutting hipsters got us where we needed to be. Vaughn got an uber-trendy faux-hawk that he loves and I love never having to see him chew on his hair again.