Stylez by Dadde’
In keeping with our new-found frugality, the puddinette and I have been discussing for weeks the possible option of self-styling the hair of sons 1 and 2. For reasons that still defy understanding, she planted her foot squarely against allowing me within 15 feet of my 3 year-old pink-and-lace-loving daughter with a pair of scissors. On the topic of home barbering the older boys’ hair, though, she was at least open to discussion.
As the need for haircuts drew near, I convinced her that I knew exactly what I was doing and was confident in my ability to minimize the potential damage to the hair of two male children, ages 6 and 5. In the back of my mind, of course, was the realization that in the absolute worst case, I could always shave their heads completely (to “even things up”, you see). I also might have neglected to mention during our negotiations that my only previous attempt at hair clipping took place under the influence of a six-pack of Sam Adams with an appreciative member of my former hockey team, who, (I have since been assured) thoroughly enjoyed appearing to have a monk’s bowl-like tonsure.
I think what really turned the discussion in my favor was when the puddinette realized that a) clippers could be acquired for the price of one haircut for both of the boys, and b) even if we never attempted it again, someday her wonderful husband will need to give up on the mirage that he still has enough hair to warrant paying good money to the nice girls at the local sports-themed, male-centric trim shop. When that day comes, the clippers will meet my scalp, and forever hence forth, I will be one among The Shaven. Thus, having a set of clippers isn’t exactly a bad investment; that day *is* coming, and it is inevitable.
So yesterday, after the puddinette left on the weekly grocery trek, I summoned both boys into the garage, shiny new clippers gripped tightly in my sweating palm. Thankfully, the experience was novel enough for the average 6 and 5 year-old that both were extremely enthusiastic. By drawing of straws, the younger was chosen for the first cut. He assumed his seat on my adapted barber’s chair, and bounced with anticipation as I wrapped him in the generic, trash-bag like “barber’s cape” that came packaged with the clippers. I attached the appropriate clipper comb and set the device on his forehead, ready for the initial pass. With a silent word of prayer, I flicked the switch to “on” and began.
……..bzzzzzzt…………bzzzzzzzzt…….bzzzzzt……..
“Huh”, I thought to myself, “that worked kinda like you see on TV”.
……..bzzzzzzt…………bzzzzzzzzt…….bzzzzzt……..
“Hey, well, that doesn’t look too bad….”
……..bzzzzzzt…………bzzzzzzzzt…….bzzzzzt……..
“Well, I’ll be damned! Maybe I won’t have to shave it down completely.”
When all was said and done, both boys were clipped and trimmed, and then gone over again to get any spots I might have missed. When the puddinette returned from her grocery extravaganza and looked upon my handiwork for the first time, her surprised was impossible to hide. “Wow, boys, your hair looks nice; Daddy actually did a pretty Good Job!”. Granted, she spent the next 2 minutes pointing out a places (just a few…here and there) where the clippers *had* to have been uneven since they resulted in wisps of unevenness. Nonetheless, for an amateur whose skill with hair clippers was likely to have been equivalent to an Army boot-camp barber, I must admit that I’m the tinist bit proud of how it all turned out.
Maybe it’s time now to start work on my own head.
pud’n
Psyche!
OK, so it appears that Operation Graduate School was somewhat short-lived, as I ended up only taking the one class. Sure, I earned that ever important “A”, again demonstrating my life-long psychological need to attain acceptance and validation though my GPA. After one semester, though, I realized that as the father of 3 children (and with a fourth bun in the proverbial oven), perhaps the amount of time and energy required to attain a Master’s degree that would ultimately have a very limited effect on either my job title or bottom line could be better spent on something else.
As it turns out, that time is, in fact, better spent nowadays in the nightly exercise of kitchen clean-up while simultaneous feeding prunes to an infant, reminding a very talkative 3 year-old that you need to *stop* speaking in order to consume food, and preventing the breakout of WrestleMania 67’s Battle Royale on the family-room love seat. So, my options were a) continue with grad school or b) prevent household Armageddon.
As an extra bonus, though, less time spent working on grad school means that I still have a little time each week to dedicate to Arrogant Bastard I mean, you’ve got to have priorities, right?
pud’n
God Bless Us, Every One
It’s amazing the difference you see in putting one’s three children to bed on Christmas Eve and then 24 hours later on Christmas night. Last night I nearly had to resort to bribery for them to calm down and go to sleep so that Santa could do his important works. Tonight, after a full day Christmas-y toys, sweets, gifts and late-day meltdowns, the most drastic thing I had to do to get anyone to go to sleep was to walk away from their respective bedrooms after tuck-ins.
If only I could find a way to bottle “child Christmas nighttime” as a sleep aid.
A very Merry (and Puddin-y) Christmas to everyone…and to all a Good Night!
pud’n
A time for every purpose…
I hadn’t written a new post for Puddintopia in nearly two years. Things have happened since then, lots of things. Hell, I’ve changed jobs and we’ve moved again. So like I said, lots of things. I told my mother (and only regular reader) last week that Puddintopia was on hiatus. She whacked me in the shoulder and suggested I was perhaps “full of it”. She had a point. My hiatus was beginning to appear rather more like full-blown cancellation.
The long and short of it is, I’ve been thinking getting back on the horse here for a while, but the site needed a whole redesign. I have neither the time nor energy for a full redesign, and I also wanted the whole thing to work differently so that entries followed more of a web-logging standard. By that I mean shorter, more frequent entries archived by month. So I put down my html/php/css coding tools and went out and picked up MovableType. I suppose this is what guys in construction feel like when someone else finishes their basement. Nonetheless, it’s nice to know that while I’ll probably make little tweaks here and there to the layout, nothing has to change. Which is good, really, since I’m about to start graduate school.
That’s right, boys and girls, puddin is headed back to school. I found a program at Purdue University that offers the same accredited courses that a resident student would take, but offered online for working professionals. So, watch out children, puddin is going Back to School.
Of course, that’s part of why I’ve decided do this now too. I’m intent on providing a day-to-day account of the trials and tribulations of a near 35-year old who’s got three kids 5 and under trying to pick up a highly technical Master’s of Science in Engineering. So buckle up, ladies, I’m sure this will be fun for at least 2 or 3 days. Until then, I’m proud to offer you Puddintopia II: Chronicles of a Middle-Aged Grad Student.