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It was an eventful weekend at the Yeoman house! Mine was slightly extended since I stayed home from work Monday. I am battling some kind of hybrid cold/allergy/I don’t really know what the hell it is type of sickness, but more on that later. So many interesting things happened, and so many great thought-provoking conversations took place that I find myself with many potential blog topics this Tuesday morning. There may be so much to discuss about last weekend, that it stretches through the week! So, I’m going to call this series: Last Weekend.

Saturday morning while I was tending to the HUGE SALE! Mike and Truman went to have their hair cut. If you don’t already know, my husband and son look exactly alike except that my husband’s hair is dark brown and my son is blonde. They have the same nose, eyes, face, expressions, sassy attitude, and sweet demeanor. Their hair is thick and beautiful, but it grows out instead of down, and it’s ability to curl is zero-point-zero. When their hair starts to get long, it look absolutely wild. It puffs straight out at the sides and straight up in the back. They get hair cuts every two weeks, not because they want to, but because they actually need to. We have never taken Truman to a kid’s salon, he goes to the same place as Daddy, at the same time and sits in his own chair. He doesn’t cry, or fidget, he just sits and has his hair cut and then charms the faces off of all of the stylists when he’s done! To watch the two of them march to the van together looking like the bed head twins, and then to see them return an hour later looking like proud, dapper gentleman squeezes my heart every time. It is their special big guy time and I can’t wait until Grant can join them too. I am going to love seeing my three guys with the same face but different hair – brunette, blonde and bright red – head off to the barber together.

So, on Saturday I watched them march off to the van. When they returned, Truman came running, pulling on the now much shorter hairs on the side of his head telling me, “Cut! Cut!” and I gasped just a little. He looked so…old. Mike told me that he had them cut it a little shorter this time since it has been growing so fast, and I agreed that it was a good idea. I just wasn’t expecting a hair cut to change my teeny tiny tot into a grown man! (Ok, maybe more like a bigger boy, but it was still shocking.) Mike of course, looked back to his normal well-groomed and handsome self. He has had the same hair cut since we met. I don’t think he will ever change it and I wouldn’t want him to.

I had scheduled my own hair appointment for Sunday afternoon, and was counting down the minutes. Then, after my voice issue on Saturday and the subsequent ickiness that followed, I almost cancelled. I went back and forth with myself and decided to keep the appointment. I am so glad I did. I have a very bad habit of neglecting my hair. In fact, as I was getting lost on my way to the salon, I text my stylist to ask her cross streets and noticed that the last time I text her (for the cross streets by the way) was April of last year. That’s right, the last time I had my hair cut was April of last year, and I didn’t even have color done because I was pregnant. (I am completely aware that color during pregnancy should be fine, I just don’t feel comfortable with it.) I feel like ten months might be long time to go without a trim. Since my hair is long, I don’t really notice that it is growing out and looking shaggy until it is too late. I just go from styling it every day and having it look cute, to pulling it back because I can’t get it to look cute anymore. Then the ponytail becomes a daily thing and before I know it, I look like a back woods sister wife off the set of Big Love. (I miss Big Love…)

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(Before)

The other part is that having your hair done is expensive. Not that the cost isn’t appropriate or worth it, but when your utility bills are behind it is hard to justify spending money at the salon. I am extremely frugal, especially when it comes to my own needs, so I can usually talk myself right out of making a hair appointment.

This time I asked for a cut a little shorter than I normally get, trying to be realistic about the amount of time it would take me to come back again. After a few hours of much needed adult conversation, (uninterrupted by poopy diapers, breast feeding or calls for more crackers) a few sheets of foil and her skilled use of shears, I looked and felt like a new person. A revived, younger, happier person. I will not pretend to understand how such a little thing can make such a big impact, but I am grateful that it does. I am on day three sans ponytail and loving it. I have had a ton of compliments on the cut and color; really pretty highlights that brighten me up and hide the incredible amount of gray hair I’ve recently acquired. I look better and that makes me feel better. My son looks grown up, my husband looks incredibly handsome… who knew hair could do so much?

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(After)

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