I am a big proponent of home hair cuts. We’ve done them for years.
They save money and time and generally turn out great – especially when it’s Grandpa giving our young sons military style hair cuts in the shop.
Things get trickier when those little boys become teenagers. They don’t want a hair cut any more – they want a hair style. And Grandpa is smart enough to not touch it.
Me – not so much.
It sounds easy when they say, “Hey mom – could you just take a little off the sides? ”
How hard can it be?
There’s undercuts and side burns and ears to trim around.
All with an electric trimmer.
They expect me to cut their hair holding a piece of vibrating metal with moving blades on the ends?! While wearing bi-focals?!
Do they realize that the difference between perfection and a gaping bald spot is approximately 2.1637 seconds?
Not that I know this from personal experience or that any of my sons have ever, or are even now walking around with gaping bald spots…just hypothetically speaking of course.
Grandpa always tells them the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut is about a week. l think it’s longer for bald spots.
I have only drawn blood on one occasion but nothing that required emergency medical attention. He didn’t really need that ear tip anyway.
You would think that after a few bad cuts they would stop asking, but I guess I raised some really frugal kids.
I do make them promise that they will love me no matter what it looks like when I’m done.
Which is good, because quite honestly, you get what you pay for!
It was VBS week this week.
Many of you are nodding right now. You know exactly what VBS week means.
Busy days, late nights and exhaustion!
But also fun, laughter and blessings.
I worked with an incredible group of kids!
A crazy bunch of teens who served with their whole hearts and kept me laughing!
They memorized, rehearsed, and brought the characters of the nightly skit to life.
Teaching truth, sharing the gospel, and loving on the kids.
I sat back each night and watching God work in and through these servants.
And I was blessed.
Teen Pact is just a few days away and Buddy and I have working on packing him up.
As we went through his dress clothes for the days at the Capitol, we noticed something.
His black dress shirt was missing.
He looked in his closet.
I looked in his closet.
This is the shirt he wears with his cool green plaid bow tie.
This leaves him one shirt short for the week. He would have to wear one shirt twice. Oh dear. If you have a 15 year old son – you know this is a crisis.
He asks if it might gotten in with dad’s clothes. I didn’t think so – but checked through them thoroughly to be sure.
I even went through the seasonal clothes in the attic.
I report my findings at lunch.
“Maybe it’s stuffed between my bass drum and the bed.”
A search there revealed many interesting items – but no black shirt.
I found it this morning.
You’ll never guess where.
It was in his closet.
It had fallen off the hanger and was on the floor, buried under his Chewbacca suit, a ripped backpack, a wrench set, a bucket of legos, computer parts and a sleeping bag.
No wonder we missed it the first time – we were looking for a black shirt in a black hole.
I guess we’ll be doing a deep cleaning soon….
Once our kiddos started leaving the nest in their own vehicles, we thought there would be fewer cars for us to keep running.
Now, my husband not only keeps them running – he does it from a distance.
In the last few months he has fielded a bevy of interesting phone calls and texts.
“Hey Dad – my truck is making funny noises.”
“Should there be a puddle of pink stuff under my car?”
“My tailgate is falling off!”
“Why don’t I have heat?”
“My brakes went out on the way home.”
“The car died.”
And every time he has patiently listened to symptoms, asked critical questions, and given advice.
He has replaced water pumps, fixed tailgates, changed numerous tires, driven a truck with no brakes to the mechanic and calmed a panicked daughter – more than once.
His bedside reading shelf now holds the manuals for each of their vehicles.
As he was studying one of those manuals the other night, I commented, “It’s almost a full time job keeping those cars running.”
He just smiled and said, “But at least they need me.”
Jan borrowed the neighbor’s trencher on Saturday.
There’s nothing like a new toy to brighten up a weekend and get teenage boys excited, especially one that has an engine and digs cool holes!
My boys were grinning from ear to ear in anticipation as they unloaded the trencher from the trailer and studied it carefully.
Imagine the excitement the first time the engine turned over and started!
They were having such a great time digging the trenches for the wiring in the two outbuildings that I was afraid they might get carried away and I would have trenches all over the yard.
Not to worry.
It seems that every trench they dug had to be filled in by hand.
As in manual labor.
Time to find a tractor or a riding mower….