Here's the rundown.
Around 11:30 I put Buby in the shower, took him out. I put Bleu in the shower, took her out. I helped them suit up, brush their teeth and get downstairs. I said, "Be back in two minutes. You guys play here. Nicely. I'll rinse off and we'll leave for your swim test."
Note: Before registering them for swim classes they had to test into the appropriate level. We had an appointment and were running slightly behind schedule, but I really needed a shower. Buby said, "Why do we have to stay in the playroom?" {They usually have the run of the place, and I just stay close.} I replied, "So I can shower and not worry about your sister on the stairs." I shut the playroom gate and raced up.
Note: Before registering them for swim classes they had to test into the appropriate level. We had an appointment and were running slightly behind schedule, but I really needed a shower. Buby said, "Why do we have to stay in the playroom?" {They usually have the run of the place, and I just stay close.} I replied, "So I can shower and not worry about your sister on the stairs." I shut the playroom gate and raced up.
During the shower I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, they are old enough now that I can take a shower. By myself. Without Nola." Of course the bathroom door was open, the playroom door was open, and there was a baby monitor on somewhere. Buby and Bleu don't play quietly. They play loud and happy and in great detail. I felt confident.
All was QUIET while I dressed. I looked at my watch {12:08 p.m.} and yelled down, "Okay guys, we're ready! Come and put your shoesies on." Buby darted out of the playroom thrilled as can be. He met me in the hall exclaiming, "Look at me, Mama. I did my own hair!" Big beautiful smile on his face.
The next 60 seconds went in slow-mo. I stared at Buby's naked forehead and it hit me. The whole front of his hair was gone. His signature all-one-length locks were cut right up to the scalp. I screeched, "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod... What did you doooo?!?" I ran to Buby. My jaw dropped. Silently. I ran to Bleu. She looked untouched. I ran to where I keep my scissors way up high on my desk hutch. Still there. I think I shouted across the room, "WHERE is your hair?" He innocently offered, "In the garbage, Mommy. It was in my face. So I cut it. What's wrong?"
Obviously he didn't think I would mind. After all, to him it was just the front he cut. And to his credit he cleaned up the hair and put back the scissors. I lifted his locks out of the trash bin and started weeping. That's right. I'm 9 months pregnant and I wept. If I could take back my UNcool reaction I would. I'd say something sweeter and more supportive and maybe offer up a big squeezey hug before reminding my almost five year old NEVER to use scissors on himself again. But I was in shock and so the best I could do was "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod." I thought I was in labor.
I wasn't mad at Buby--not even a little--but I was sad. Heartbroken even. And before you scold me, dear friends, I know that it's just hair. I KNOW. But in that moment I wondered so many things. Did he not like his hair all this time? We were just at a salon two days earlier getting the back trimmed up for school. Was he afraid to say he wanted it shorter? Did I forget to ask what he wanted? Or for Buby was it as simple as problem/solution? The wet, uncombed hair was in his face so he took care of it?
From Bleu I might have expected this. She is a natural tester, curious beyond her years, defiant, loves a challenge. But Buby we refer to as "Safety Patrol" on the playground. He is perceptive and receptive, cautious and eager to please. He talks to us about everything and asks permission to do anything. He lectures other tykes on the dangers of junk food and running with pencils. He's the boy who has never left the top off a marker in his life, colored on a table or glued something he shouldn't. Buby amazes me daily but rarely ever shocks. Whatever his reason or level of premeditation on Friday, he was as surprised by my REaction as I was by his action.
As soon as he realized I was crying he hurried over to me and said, "I'm sorry. Don't cry, Mommy. I'm sorry." I saw his chin quivering and felt awful. AWFUL for making this about me. But his hair was soooo him, and I needed another minute to say goodbye to it. I realized the time, pulled it together, put on the kids' shoes and walked them out to the car. Crazy jagged hair and all. We had somewhere to be.
On the way to the sports complex I asked Buby how many cuts he made. He said four. I asked him where he got the scissors. He told me he could clearly see his kid scissors in the craft bin on the top shelf of the playroom closet. He used a step stool and a Tinkertoy to propel them down. Resourceful. {And ironic considering the one area of improvement on his Fall report card was manipulation of scissors. Teacher said he needed his own pair and more practice at home}.
We were very late, but we got through our swim test in one piece. Then I called My Sweets at work. I sent him a photo, and he was speechless. Said he didn't even recognize our boy. I asked him what I should do. He said, "Call Danielle!" Then I cried again. I texted back, "I will never shower again." My Sweets responded, "How 'bout we just move the scissors?" Note: Danielle is our hair girl. She cuts our whole family. We don't do bangs or buzz cuts here, and she gets that. We love her, and that's why we never trim hair at home.
Except...
And then it hit me. Two days earlier {meaning Wednesday night} after Buby's shower I noticed Danielle had left an uneven chunk in the back. So unlike her. I took out my grownup scissors and for the first time ever trimmed Buby's hair in our upstairs bathroom. Just to even it out. He thought it was so cool, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for doing it. Like I said, we don't cut hair here. Ever.
I think I totally inspired this incident.
A half hour later I was done lecturing about scissor safety FOREVER, and we were back in Danielle's chair. Everyone at the salon awaited our arrival. Danielle took one look and said there wasn't anything she could do to salvage. We had to go short. I told her, "Anything but a buzz. Tom's orders."
She fixed him up good. We went home, made dinner and then met My Sweets at a country fair around 7:15 p.m. By the way Buby LOVES his new style. He said it feels amazing and couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror. Grinning ear to ear. Even while talking to my mom on the phone. It verged on obnoxious.
The kids rode the carnival rides until their legs collapsed beneath them. I told Buby how handsome he is and promised not to cry at all tomorrow. We both laughed. He added, "It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I love you." Then, alas, that squeezey hug.
All was QUIET while I dressed. I looked at my watch {12:08 p.m.} and yelled down, "Okay guys, we're ready! Come and put your shoesies on." Buby darted out of the playroom thrilled as can be. He met me in the hall exclaiming, "Look at me, Mama. I did my own hair!" Big beautiful smile on his face.
The next 60 seconds went in slow-mo. I stared at Buby's naked forehead and it hit me. The whole front of his hair was gone. His signature all-one-length locks were cut right up to the scalp. I screeched, "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod... What did you doooo?!?" I ran to Buby. My jaw dropped. Silently. I ran to Bleu. She looked untouched. I ran to where I keep my scissors way up high on my desk hutch. Still there. I think I shouted across the room, "WHERE is your hair?" He innocently offered, "In the garbage, Mommy. It was in my face. So I cut it. What's wrong?"
Obviously he didn't think I would mind. After all, to him it was just the front he cut. And to his credit he cleaned up the hair and put back the scissors. I lifted his locks out of the trash bin and started weeping. That's right. I'm 9 months pregnant and I wept. If I could take back my UNcool reaction I would. I'd say something sweeter and more supportive and maybe offer up a big squeezey hug before reminding my almost five year old NEVER to use scissors on himself again. But I was in shock and so the best I could do was "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod." I thought I was in labor.
I wasn't mad at Buby--not even a little--but I was sad. Heartbroken even. And before you scold me, dear friends, I know that it's just hair. I KNOW. But in that moment I wondered so many things. Did he not like his hair all this time? We were just at a salon two days earlier getting the back trimmed up for school. Was he afraid to say he wanted it shorter? Did I forget to ask what he wanted? Or for Buby was it as simple as problem/solution? The wet, uncombed hair was in his face so he took care of it?
From Bleu I might have expected this. She is a natural tester, curious beyond her years, defiant, loves a challenge. But Buby we refer to as "Safety Patrol" on the playground. He is perceptive and receptive, cautious and eager to please. He talks to us about everything and asks permission to do anything. He lectures other tykes on the dangers of junk food and running with pencils. He's the boy who has never left the top off a marker in his life, colored on a table or glued something he shouldn't. Buby amazes me daily but rarely ever shocks. Whatever his reason or level of premeditation on Friday, he was as surprised by my REaction as I was by his action.
As soon as he realized I was crying he hurried over to me and said, "I'm sorry. Don't cry, Mommy. I'm sorry." I saw his chin quivering and felt awful. AWFUL for making this about me. But his hair was soooo him, and I needed another minute to say goodbye to it. I realized the time, pulled it together, put on the kids' shoes and walked them out to the car. Crazy jagged hair and all. We had somewhere to be.
On the way to the sports complex I asked Buby how many cuts he made. He said four. I asked him where he got the scissors. He told me he could clearly see his kid scissors in the craft bin on the top shelf of the playroom closet. He used a step stool and a Tinkertoy to propel them down. Resourceful. {And ironic considering the one area of improvement on his Fall report card was manipulation of scissors. Teacher said he needed his own pair and more practice at home}.
We were very late, but we got through our swim test in one piece. Then I called My Sweets at work. I sent him a photo, and he was speechless. Said he didn't even recognize our boy. I asked him what I should do. He said, "Call Danielle!" Then I cried again. I texted back, "I will never shower again." My Sweets responded, "How 'bout we just move the scissors?" Note: Danielle is our hair girl. She cuts our whole family. We don't do bangs or buzz cuts here, and she gets that. We love her, and that's why we never trim hair at home.
Except...
And then it hit me. Two days earlier {meaning Wednesday night} after Buby's shower I noticed Danielle had left an uneven chunk in the back. So unlike her. I took out my grownup scissors and for the first time ever trimmed Buby's hair in our upstairs bathroom. Just to even it out. He thought it was so cool, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for doing it. Like I said, we don't cut hair here. Ever.
I think I totally inspired this incident.
A half hour later I was done lecturing about scissor safety FOREVER, and we were back in Danielle's chair. Everyone at the salon awaited our arrival. Danielle took one look and said there wasn't anything she could do to salvage. We had to go short. I told her, "Anything but a buzz. Tom's orders."
She fixed him up good. We went home, made dinner and then met My Sweets at a country fair around 7:15 p.m. By the way Buby LOVES his new style. He said it feels amazing and couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror. Grinning ear to ear. Even while talking to my mom on the phone. It verged on obnoxious.
The kids rode the carnival rides until their legs collapsed beneath them. I told Buby how handsome he is and promised not to cry at all tomorrow. We both laughed. He added, "It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I love you." Then, alas, that squeezey hug.
4 comments:
Oh! My last comment for the finished product I thought you all elected to trim him up a bit. I didn't realize it was so traumatic. So sorry it happened this way but we love it here!! Remember kid hair grows SO FAST.
we love it!!! you look awesome buby!! you still have the great gift of a great writer mommy!! enjoyed the journey as well as the pic!! thank you for a great start to the day!! love you forever
It looks great! He looks like such a gentleman + you are right his baby blues are more visable + I like that. His tachers will appreciate it too!
It really must be a rite of passage, but I know it doesn't help. I was so sad when Lily cut bangs into her hair, the one thing I said I didn't want to deal with. But he looks gorgeous.
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