Boys are a lot less maintenance than girls. Or so you would think. Their clothing needs are minimal; they wear the same few things again and again, and they don't care what it is as long as it's comfortable, and it's not jeans. We get them some new uniform items or some sports stuff once and awhile. They don't need much in the way of hygiene products besides body wash.
But there is one area where boys are much higher maintenance, and it is one for which we remain unable to find any lasting solution: oft-needed haircuts.
Tim has mentioned at some point that his father used to take him for a haircut on the weekends, and it wasn't any big deal. I imagine them driving to the center of their Norman Rockwell-esque small New England town, and maybe parking on the street in front of a tiny barbershop that probably had one of those barber poles spinning around outside. The barber probably addressed him as "young man," but mostly conversed with his father, my husband probably having had little or no say in the style of the haircut he'd be receiving. With a snap, he opened a cape, fastened it around his neck and got to work. Tim Sr sat nearby thumbing through a magazine or making small talk with the barber about the Red Sox or work or mutual friends they'd gone to school with. Maybe he got a haircut too. From start to finish, it was 20 minutes or less, and for the two of them it probably cost less than what they spend for a dozen eggs today.
My dad and brother had Aunt Liz for a barber, and she made house calls.
Never, I believe, was either scenario ever as fraught as it increasingly is for our household.
Yes I know, it is different for us having three boys instead of just one. But I'm sure Tim's barber back in the day could have handled all of them assembly line-style like it was nothing. He probably did it all the time! Tim would be so happy to have comfortable routine for getting haircuts, without the fuss and the drama. We've tried a lot. It's time-consuming, usually expensive, and the results are unpredictable. This husband of mine rises at 5 a.m. grateful to be alive, seizes the day with a one-mile walk, has a full time day job, and spends his leisure time schlepping kids around. The only time I see him look tired is when we talk about boys' haircuts.
A few years ago, I asked Joey's friend Camden's mom where they got his hair cut, because we think he always looks nice. "Jeff," she told us. That recommendation was echoed by the parents of Timmy's schoolmates, and by now he was going to Catholic school where the haircuts are mandatory. Jeff was the it barber, so of course without hesitation we made an appointment for Timmy and Joey. I could understand why Jeff was so popular, observing his jovial manner with my boys. He let Joey squirt him with the water bottle. He very much enjoyed being the kids' buddy, which was great except that when all was said and done he did not end up cutting off very much hair--just cleaned things up mostly. He was trying to hard to make them (especially Timmy) happy, and me happy, and that's a delicate balance. But the thing is, for what Jeff was charging (think maybe three dozen eggs' worth per boy), we didn't want to be back in three weeks. Timmy is basically like Harry Potter, as fast as his hair grows. Jeff did an ok job, but he wasn't taking off enough hair to make it worth our while. He seemed sensitive to the feelings of whoever was in his chair--he saw those puppy dog eyes in the mirror, and he wanted everyone happy--but he erred more on their side, and they're not the ones paying.
I have also tried taking them, or at least Timmy, to the same girl who does his sisters' and my hair. I really enjoy going to her, so I was reluctant to muddy those waters, but at this point we really needed to try something new. They had had had home haircuts from Tim, and also haircuts at places like Great Clips, with mixed (mostly bad results). There, Tim would and the boys would wait a long while for their turn, and then roll the dice with who's cutting their hair and whether they have any idea what they're doing. It's a half-day excursion after which they need the other half of the day to recover. There are some sad boys afterward, that's for sure. Especially poor Timmy--it's almost criminal the way they hack at his hair. When Tim opts to do it himself, he does what he can, but he's not a barber. Sometimes it comes out well enough; other times, yikes. The fade is really hard for him. But at least when he does it, however it turns out, it's free!
So as I was saying, I took them to my hairstylist, and unfortunately, she doesn't seem to have the knack when it comes to boys. It was worth a try. The girls and I continue to go to her every few months, and the rest of the time, we just don't think much about it.
But boys' haircuts preoccupy us. First comes the week to ten days beforehand where we remind them and one another at least three times a day, "You need a haircut soon." "He needs a haircut soon." The dread descends on us all. Tim and his father could have each gotten seven haircuts in the time we spend just thinking about how it's about that time.
After that, we have to get serious about those haircuts because the boys are getting pretty shaggy, and two of them go to Catholic school and are expected to be better groomed than that. The principal will from time to time issue a friendly reminder to all the families because he's not naming names. At this next stage we look at our schedule for the upcoming week and decide which morning or afternoon we can sacrifice.
Today we took advantage of a day off school and work, and Tim took the two older boys to Sport Clips. They will both be able to pass for awhile at school, although one of them is very unhappy and has yet to surface several hours later. The other one I have seen, and his is the sort of haircut you squint at and say, "Maybe in a day or two it will look nice." Tim gave Thomas a reasonably good trim, and fortunately the hardest thing with Thomas is just getting him to sit still; he has not yet developed any ideas about how his hair ought to look.
And now we are done, and I am off to enjoy the respite before we start talking boys' hair again. For Timmy, that might be just a few days...
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