Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Cael has great hair.  He inherited my curls but without the frizz-- Joel's thick, soft locks but still maintained the blonde.  But there's one problem... he has way too much of it.

I've trimmed it in the past, but for the last 6 months or so I've been forbidden to cut it under penalty of Joel.  Even though I have resisted, Joel frequently comes home and proclaims, "You cut his hair!" even when I've been much too busy refilling sippy cups and surgically removing plastic coins from the DVD player to consider giving a haircut.

But in the last month I've trimmed my sister's hair, given my nephew a haircut and begun the process of shearing Oscar back to a presentable state.  In fact, it seems like the two people whose hair I haven't cut are the ones who need it most.

Just days before Graham was born, I gave Cael his first haircut.  We loved his bouncy curls, but as his hair got longer, the "Oh, she's so cute!" comments grew exponentially and we knew it was time for a trim.  At the time, we opted to shorten the "wings", the hair on the sides of his head that led to a Bozo-esque appearance that was more laughable than adorable.

And the haircut helped.  But we learned that the shorter we trimmed his hair, the straighter it became, so for future haircuts I had to restrain myself as much as possible to keep him looking like himself and to keep myself out of the doghouse.  I don't like it in there... it's full of fur.

Graham has had several at-home haircuts, most of which accomplished the task of shortening his hair but left him with a 1980's vintage bowl-cut inspired "do".  I attempted the first and then reluctantly handed over the clippers to Joel who had a steadier hand and no fear of temporarily marring our second born.

Recalling those experiences led me to the computer to search for photos to support my cause.  It was at that point I realized that Cael's last trim was last September 28th of 2010-- over a full year ago!  And it shows.  When he's in the bathtub, his soft locks tumble down his back and I can only help but to feel jealous on behalf of women everywhere. 

So with Joel's objections in mind, I made an executive decision.  I decided to forego the haircut in exchange for another "wing trim" that would hopefully buy us time before pageant scouts try to enroll him in the "Little Miss Potty Mouth" contest.  I very carefully trimmed less than an inch of hair from the sides and tossed in a touch of mousse to put the bounce back in his mane.  He looked great.

The next day, Cael rattled the walls at preschool and after I picked him up, we headed to the next town to meet Daddy for lunch, as we often do on Tuesdays.  We settled into our favorite table and the very moment I heard the door open and Joel entered, I was greeted with, "You cut his hair!"

Whoops.

As it turns out, I'd broken that lesser known commandment, "thou shalt not trim", and found myself right back in the doghouse.  I tried to justify my behavior but knew that in Joel's world, an illegal haircut ranked right below waterboarding in terms of personal violations.  So I did my best to apologize and moved on.

Last week, while gathering a few groceries at the store, Joel and I initiated our traditional tag-team method and each headed off in different directions.  Cael and I were charged with the task of seeking out a few Christmas gift ideas for Graham, and Joel was doing the same for Cael.

After I'd selected a few items and was three aisles into my grocery list, I saw a cart whiz by with a man in a Hawkeye sweatshirt and a baby with wet, freshly cut blonde hair.

OH NO HE DIDN'T.

While I was lovingly sifting through Walmart clearance items and Mickey mouse paraphernalia, my husband took my baby to SuperCuts and had his sweet head buzzed without me.

"Are you serious?  You got his hair cut without me?" I asked.

"You cut Cael's hair without me."

"I just trimmed it.  You had his hair cut all over without me?  I wasn't even there to take pictures!"

"I took some on my phone."

"You're in so much trouble."

So I guess payback is a bitter pill to swallow.  And as I sit in bed, looking at photos of my son's milestone that I will never remember, I can't help but turn to my sleeping husband and wonder. 

Where are the clippers now?