The Home Cut

To boldly go where most stay at home moms have gone before.

A home hair cut.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. When I was a young girl I never knew anything besides a home cut. My feet NEVER dawned the door of a hair salon or even a cheaper version of a hair salon you know what I am talking about the kind where the workers have just gotten out of hair school and they are practicing and a cheap price. We had a tiny house bursting with 7 people and not a ton o' funds to spare for things like hair cuts.
I loved hair even at a young age and I would dream of the perm I could get or maybe the latest cut that most of the girls had. Why couldn't my hair just turn out like the rest? I would spend hours teasing my hair (the bad ideas of the 80's), curling it with a curling iron, crimping it, and spraying it with the cheapest hairspray (the kind that would make you smell like an old lady...Aqua net or something of the sort). But the time would always come and I would go and collect the items my mom would need to cut my hair: the kitchen scissors, old newspaper for the floor, a wooden chair, and a big trash bag to serve as a smock.

Then... she would cut. Nervously, I would wait and hope that for the love of all things...it just may turn out. My twin sister, bless her heart, had some major naturally curly hair so she just got hers whacked in the shape of a nest or bush or something. Bless her. My mom would survey her masterpiece after the hour or so of cutting and ask me if I liked it. Sometimes I did...and other times I wanted to run away and cry. She would always ask me if anyone liked my hair at school the next day. She did what she could.

One dreaded day my dad said he would do the honors of cutting my hair. It was my fourth grade year...a year of crucial importance in the life of a nine year old. If I were ever going to be popular...I had to have the right cut. That was my fourth grade line of thinking. I think the Lord used my bad cuts to keep me humble.
So you should be able to trust your mom and dad right, even with your hair?? That is where my naive thinking got me into trouble. This time we go out on the back deck (I will never forget) and with a comb he combs down to the top of my ear lobe (I had long hair) and whacks a section of my hair off. The whole world stopped as I cried out and ran to my room and cried for what may have been hours and my sisters made fun of the damage that was done. He would NEVER touch my hair again. For the rest of my fourth grade year I had to pin that side of my hair up in a clip. How was I ever going to be cool. It left a mark on my soul that still brings up terror to my mind...maybe it is a place that I need to seek healing over. I AM KIDDING.
As soon as I was old enough to work I went to a Salon and the days of home cuts were far behind me. So, I swore I would never give my kids the home cut. NEVER...

Well guess what? Morgans hair was getting so long that I was afraid people might think we were strangely religious and that we didn't believe in cutting hair (no offense anyone). So in a moment of desperation I went for the scissors and I prayed. Lord please go with me and make my hands (that have never dawned hair school) skilled like that of a great beautician.

God love her.

I went with trembling and sought to get my two year old to be still. Then I grabbed the back of her hair and studied the situation. I decided there was nothing I could do but grab it all as one piece, close my eyes, and cut. I cut about an inch and a half off and I don't recommend my cutting method. I had to trim it up while I let her pour a bottle of baby lotion all over her legs and while she shoved toothbrushes down the sink drain...anything to keep her busy. At one point she cried and said "I'm a good girl". I didn't understand why until I realized I actually nipped a little bit of skin on her back with the fancy scissors. I was so sorry. I vowed that I would not traumatize her again by the home cut.
Next time we will be going to the salon. It turned out O.K. but she has her hair in pigtails so I don't have to have anxiety over wondering if it is really straight or not in the back...but I think it is. She looks a little bit more like my baby girl...not so grown up with all the long hair.

Eccl. 3:1
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: