I got my books together and I dragged my feet

There is your second Grease 2 lyrics reference titled post in two weeks. You've got AT LEAST two more coming. You're welcome.

Today was the day. 'Twas haircut day. In the last ten days, I had become embarrassed of the atrocity that Jake's hair had grown out and become. He thought it was amazing. The deal was that we would not cut it until the Saturday before school started, and this could not get here fast enough. Grace at Regis Salon in the mall cut Landen's hair last time, and she did such a good job I made another appointment for both of them to see her today.

Landen always volunteers to do something first. Unless it is shower or see a dentist. He was the first one in the chair.

Ain't he darlin?

When he was done, and just as cute as he could be (we woke up friends this morning and he hadn't popped off to me by the time we got to his appointment at 12:45 so I liked him more), he was apparently a little embarrassed that I had whipped out the camera and was taking pictures of him getting his hair cut. This is my favorite thing he does. It's so adult and funny and it's smartass without being disrepectful.



 When he was done, he claimed to be very happy to be rid of all that long hair. Sometimes he just goes along with shit because Jake does, and tells us later he really did not want to.

I die.

On to the unwilling client. So you will appreciate the transformation of this haircut, I must provide you with a reference. This is what he looked like while he was playing Mah Jong on my iPhone while Landen was being styled.

Dude has a cowlick in the front of his head and in the back.

Do not talk to me about it. It made him really happy all summer and it did not hurt anybody. By the way, he hates this outfit.

This was once a boy who would cry in the salon and not speak to me for hours after I cut his hair. I started refusing to take him. And then we had some incidents where Mr. High and Tight took him into the haircut place and said "cut it like mine but longer on top" and oh, the horror. We had to stop doing that. I will at least take the time to explain a little about what we want.

Enter Grace at Regis, who can listen to me say that it cannot touch his ears or his collar, but please make it look as long as you can, and then sends me a kid who looks seriously sharp. The little fifth grade girls are going to fall all over themselves for this kid right here

It's his best haircut ever. And when he was done, he did not look at me like I had killed all his hopes and dreams for being cool. He remained in a delightful mood. I did not even have the buffer of his dad. I went alone.

I went alone, to the mall, with two rowdy boys, on the Saturday before school starts. It ranks right up there with eating a cheese log after drinking an excess of wine that you only live to talk about when you're 22 as one of my poorest decisions in life. Boo me. We got haircuts, had some lunch (Chick-Fil-A for Landen, Chinese for Jake and me) and went to the Foot Locker. And the Kids Foot Locker. And Journeys Kids, the Finish Line, Champs and JC Penney. In that order. 

Jake found some shoes he likes at the Finish Line. Some black Reeboks with soles that look like shiny white teeth. Whatever makes you feel cool enough to start a new school. Landen could not pick a shoe. When he did pick a shoe, they did not have his size. Finally, with every doubt in the world that the selection would be completely picked over, we went to the Shoe Department. There the boy found a pair of gray and blue New Balance. The last shoe left was exactly his size and he was comfortable in them. Halle-freaking-lujah. 

Why did I not just order online, you ask? Because this is the first year Jake and Landen have not had to wear shoes that were all white without a speck of gray, black or color. There were guidelines, but shoes could be black, gray, white or navy. So this was the first opportunity they've ever had to pick their own school shoes. And athletic shoes are all sized differently. Even if they picked out a shoe online, I would inevitably order the wrong size and be screwed for the first day of school. 

Next year I'm doing this in June. 

So here they are, in their fresh haircut adorableness, with their bags of personally selected school shoes, putting their grubby little fingers all over the Mini-Cooper in the mall.

This morning I got up with a renewed sense of righteous indignation in motherhood. It's exhausting to correct someone 1,804 times a day, and yes, it's easier it walk away from him than to be thorough in a punishment, but I cannot live like this anymore. And if I'm mean all day, every day and he does not like to be around me any more, fine. He'll understand when he has an eight-year-old Allbritton boy. They cute, but they are certainly a lot of work.

So today I did two things. I took away the Disney channel and I put five silly bands on his wrist. I hate those little smart-ass shits on Disney and Nickelodeon. Have you ever watched those Suite Life kids? All they do is disrespect adults and talk smack and play tricks and there are twelve shows full of teen and pre-teen angst-turned-sitcom-fodder that Landen Allbritton is no longer allowed to watch. He will not watch a show on Disney or Nickelodeon that has live people in it. He may watch cartoons, nature shows and the movies he has. If Jake wants to watch such a show, there are four other TVs in this house available to him. For how long you join Landen in asking me? Until this disrespectful, smartass, know-it-all, interrupting shit stops for one month. Or he turns twelve.

The silly bands are the counting system. Every time he smarts off, interrupts, refuses to follow directions or acts in a manner opposite from what he's been taught, he gives me a rubber band. Each rubber band lost earns him a bedtime that is fifteen minutes earlier than his brother's. Saturday night are usually a 10 PM bedtime, but his ass got tucked in at 9:15. I told him I wasn't mad at him. Three in one day is a big improvement over yesterday, last week and last month. He should lay here and fall asleep thinking about how to be more respectful tomorrow. And he should know that I am not kidding, and even though it's not fun or easy to discipline him constantly, I am going to do what I say. Every time. 

If I was delivering this speech to you in person, I would have to stick out my tongue and say "so there." Unless you had just gotten your hair cut by Grace at Regis. Then I would be putty in your hands for about ten seconds and I would not care what you said to me.