Yesterday, my Zachy-bear got a haircut. His first haircut since birth. It was monumental, expected... yet unexpected.

I had been thinking for a long time that he should get a haircut. The back of his head was filled with tangles and he looked (to me) like he was neglected and not cared for. Beneath his wild hair were dirty fingernails and a child who was not potty-trained. For a while, I would tie his hair and call it a man bun. It made me feel a little better, but he resisted it. He said it hurt his head, and so I would bribe him to do it. It was about me, not about him. It was about my concerns that he did not look cared for -- what would others think of me, after all?

I started to ask him if he wanted to cut his hair. At the beginning of summer vacation, I took the boys to get haircuts and tried to get him to cut his hair. The result? He ran off and said, "No!"

I started to add on the list of things to do: "Take Zachy to get a haircut" and began to look up places with spaceship chairs and places that offered balloons to kids who cut their hair. I hyped it up for him. Each time, he'd say something like "Not yet. Until I'm a daddy."

Yet, there were mixed messages in all that. At times he said he wanted me to cut his hair. "Ma, can you cut my hair? I want YOU to do it." He even communicated to me that he wanted a haircut so he could see better. Yet I didn't get to it. I had mixed feelings and thoughts about that. When will I find the time? Will I have to clean my haircut supplies? What if it looks bad? So I put it off.

Then yesterday happened. Yesterday was the first day of the new school year. I wanted Josiah to get a haircut, and I also wanted the boys to pick out new shoes and helmets. Yesterday, I was going to empower them to make their own choices. But not the haircut part. No. I was going to pick out Josiah's haircut. Yep.

But then, when the woman was finished cutting Josiah's hair she asked if Zachary would let her brush his hair. He nodded and agreed. Then, we both asked him if he wanted a haircut. Yes, he said. Yes, he nodded. One thing led to another. He said yes the whole way through. And then, slowly I saw the locks fall from his head. The first cut, though, was missed. It was missed because Josiah needed help with his workbook page. 

Disappointment. Frustration. I felt these things in my stomach. I tried to take a deep breath and moved on.

The rest of the time, I was there. I stood, videotaped him, photographed him, and cheered him on. He smiled... but was it genuine? What was he really thinking? Did he think he needed to get a haircut? Did he feel pressured this whole time? I was on the sidelines cheering him on. What was I thinking? That it had to be this way? 

The locks fell to the ground. I scampered to gather them up and bag them, my heart breaking each time.

Finally, it was finished.

He looked... different. 

I came home. I wrestled. I stayed up until midnight wondering if I had made the right decision. Why did I push for this for so many months? And really, did I push for this? No, maybe he wanted this? And I had to step back and empower him to make his own choices? Did I do the right thing? Then why does my heart hurt so much?

His baby hair is gone. Forever. The locks. Gone forever. 

Why did it matter so much what others thought of me as his mother? Who cares of others looked at me and wondered, "Why didn't she cut his hair?" Who cares what society says. 

Is this a lesson in life that runs deeper? Why do I let the world boss me around so much? As a mother, I can sleep with my children. I can let them play wildly outside. I can say no to goldfish and candy. I can say no to school.

I can say no to living in a suburban society. 

I can say Yes to free play. I can say yes to organic, real food. I can say yes to growing my own food and raising backyard hens.

Ugh. And today I am up at 6. Because I couldn't sleep. It all happened so quickly.

Now, I ask myself ... how do I slow it all down? 

I begin today.

 

 

 

Yesterday is gone. But I have today. Today, he is still Zachy. Today he still loves to cuddle. Today, he wants to be read to. Today, he is my 3-year-old and I am his mommy. Today, I will cherish the moments. Today, I will take it all in.

But first, I'm going to go back to bed and try to get more rest. 

Because I am going to need it.