Hair-Man

I think it's been confirmed. I stink at 31 for 21 this year. Ah well.

Here are some pictures.

Harry needed a haircut. Every weekend for the past month I've promised myself it would happen and well, it's just amazing how well-intentioned my lists are on Friday afternoon and how humble I feel by Sunday evening.


You know it's time for a trim when, after a little post-dinner plate play (side note: What is it about toddlers and plates? Do YOU look at a plate and think, A Hat?! I know, I know, you are likely not wearing diapers either, so...) you wake up with lasagna still in your hair (I cleaned him off! I did! Honest!).


Part of the problem was that the adorable little old school mom and pop barber that I love to support happens to have terribly inconvenient hours for us (closing at 3pm on weekends, staying open "late"--till 7 pm on week nights) which is fabulous in theory, unless the patrons go to bed at 6:45 (Hi Harry!). But would you look at this? A new(ish) kid barber (replete with "car" chairs and Thomas DVDs) opened up recently, not even ten minutes from our house. I'm not going to say that Harry loved getting his hair cut yesterday, but there were far fewer tears than the last few times. Old School Barber is just that, so, no Mini Coopers to sit in or kiddie videos to watch (I know, the poor dears).


I think we can all agree the finished product was worth the squirming and fussing. And Leo was so proud of Harry for being brave. After all, Leo knows a thing or two about haircuts.

Fourth vs. First: Hair Edition

I could say a lot about the difference between your first and your fourth child. The other day, for example, I realized that now when I hear a crash, rather than rushing to see what I happened, I wait a beat to hear if anyone is crying before going to investigate. Mother of the Year? Perhaps.

Take first haircuts. Lucy (aka Baby #4), clearly needed one.


Many moons ago, so did Baby #1 (aka Leo). Sidenote: OMG his hair was gorgeous but OMG What Were We Thinking with that hair?

I clearly remember taking Leo for his first haircut. It was at one of those places that specialize in kid's cuts. A lot of pictures were taken (though curiously I can't seem to find any of them). There may have even been a video. Precious, first shorn locks were carefully and lovingly tucked away into a special "commemorative" envelope, sealed for posterity.

Lucy's first haircut? Let's just say it happened around 8 a.m. in our backyard on Sunday morning. I grabbed the scissors on my way out of the kitchen where I'd dashed to grab a bowl of Pirate Booty for the gang to share (what? Isn't that what you crave at 8 a.m.?). I managed to get Lucy to sit for a minute.

Before.

After. She seems pleased, yes?

For the record, I did save those little blond wisps and sealed them in an envelope. I wrote (with crayon of course, because it was there): "Lucy First haircut (Bangs), 4/28/13" (so I don't wonder someday why her first haircut was such a small little swirl). Because you know what? First haircut at Fancy Place? First haircut on the back deck? It's still important.

I may have taken off a bit more than I would have liked but it's growing on me. I look at the new 'do and think: Short and Sassy. Best of all it's out of her eyes. I was a big fan of the long bangs pinned to the side in a barrette. She...was not: "Don't want it! (pointed to adorable purple poodle clip) No!"

Anyway, the new cut seems to suit her. I didn't know someone under the age of two could actually strut, but Lucy can. And she does. Short and sassy, that one is. From head to toe.

Weekend Update

For some reason, this was the first weekend in recent memory that I haven't collapsed into bed on Sunday night and felt like I had been hit by a truck. A truck driven by four, small people.

I  laughed a lot. I mean, we always laugh a lot in our house. How could we not? But this weekend I seemed to more than usual. Was it Ellie's calls of: "Last one upstairs gets a rotten egg?" or was it Lucy, padding around the house and singing (in quite a good tune, I might add) Barney's "I Love You" song? Over. And over. And over.

Anyway I am not questioning the laughter. Laughter is good, since I also spent an inordinate amount of time keeping these people (the smaller two, obviously) from falling headfirst off chairs.

Speaking of laughing...

...Harry, at his first haircut was...decidedly not doing so.

Pre-haircut, big brother Leo (who knows a thing or two about haircut trauma) was clearly concerned for his little Hair-Bear.

Ahh. Much better. And I didn't even cry! There is something about official "first" haircuts that always makes little boys look so transformed, so "old" (where's my bay-beeeeee?!) yet this time, I just thought Harry looked perfect. And clean. Did I mention this is the boy who likes to rub oatmeal/pasta/yogurt/anything he can eat, into the back of his hair? This new do' should make life a bit tidier.

At least, in theory.

On Sunday we went out to brunch with the gang. I'm always struck by the leaps the babies make in just a month. Most times, brunch with all four is akin to dining with four escaped convicts, but for some reason, yesterday was different. Of course it was still anything but relaxing, but I always feel very accomplished when we do anything that involves leaving the house for a few hours.

Lucy at brunch was a character. Are you familiar with Bread and Jam for Frances?

"He took a bite of sandwich, a bite of egg and a drink of milk. Then he went around again. Albert made the sandwich, the egg and the milk, come out even."

This is what she reminded me of. There was Lucy, sipping her water (cup with a straw), taking tiny, delicate bites of her biscuit and finally, pinching miniature finger-fuls of scrambled eggs.

Now if I can just keep everyone upright in a chair, we'll be good.