Pinkalicious, Hubs, and I have all been pretty sick throughout the entire month of February (Monkey Boy has had his fair share of repeated double ear infections), and thus, there has been neglect in many areas of responsibility around the house. This includes , but is not limited to, dusting, decorating for Valentine's Day and now Spring, cooking, and The Hubs' haircut. As we were FINALLY on the mend the second half of this week, we began tackling life, which was really refreshing. And I was so excited for the haircut. I love his hair done just right - it's thick, dark and glossy!
So yesterday he calls me in to finish up and hands me the razor. He says "even it out" and I'm thinking about the longer shag that he missed at the top and yes, yes, uh huh, trim it so it's even, and up I go with the trimmer and HOLY CRAP WHAT THE HELL?!?!?! I buzzed a 6-7 inch line right up the back of his head!!!!!!!!
Suddenly my life was not my own. The situation was so incredible, it could only be happening on TV! I stood and looked at it in shock and began laughing. Not the bowled-over laughing, but the silent, stifled, shocked, tearful laughing. I felt AWFUL and yet it was funny to me. I may be the worst wife ever, but I didn't mean to be.
And let's discuss The Hubs who yelled, "STOP!!!" just as I was realizing that it seemed like I was cutting alot of hair in those two seconds. Who laughed less than I did, of course. Who quietly commanded my compact mirror to survey the damage for himself. As he looked and then put his head in his hands, my laughing was over, and the tragedy was full-focus. He was so angry and yet nothing but kind to me. You cannot imagine. I could not imagine. There is very little room for compassion, and others in general, when it comes to a disheartened moment in my day, yet here sat a man with love and gentleness on his lips. It blows my mind still. Friends, what a blessing. What a man. What a servant's heart.
We've repaired it as best we can. Tomorrow he heads to school to teach high schoolers. And my heart breaks. I am afraid my actions will bring him shame. Each day for him is a fight for some semblance of respect from upstart students who have not learned authority in the home. What will happen with a racing stripe on his head? I can only pray, and hope that there might be an opportunity for them to laugh together with him at the wife who practices scalping, and who might be visiting detention this Thursday, razor in tow.