My Son Looks Like a Bum - Get Used to It

A while ago I wrote about Dylan’s hobo hair and how I was going to fast track a haircut to get the situation under control. Well uhm...that didn’t happen. Instead, I filed the scissor date away in the “follow up” corner of my mind where all the other to-do’s go to die. At first I convinced myself I was “too busy” to make time for slashing those precious baby locks, but as the comments about his hair’s length continued to pour in from family/friends/strangers, I realized four months had passed.  Last Friday, Dylan made a friend at the park. The two boys were side by side, playing/avoiding each other when suddenly Dylan’s small fry companion became entranced with his hair and began petting Dylan's head. I laughed while Dylan ran away from baby hands and I realized I have a problem: I’m somewhat pleased with the side show that is Dylan’s mane. Though I fantasize about the cool, polished, clean-cut style he could have if I bucked up, stopped resisting change, and cut the dang hair- but I can’t do it... I love crazy head. Slashing off Dizbaby curls prompts a panic attack, as I envision cute little strands of heaven laying on the ground post scissor, only to be swept up and thrown away like common trash. (Overdramatic much?) Since when is a haircut such an emotionally loaded experience? I mean, it’s merely a trim and yet I treat the wild, unruly, ever growing mop as if Dylan is Samson and all his powers will be lost once we leave the salon. I don’t want that kind of blood on my hands!  So NO! There will be no trimmy-trims in the immediate future. There will be luscious hobo locks flowing freely in the wind atop my 1 year old’s head. Because quite frankly, he has a lifetime of haircuts ahead of him and I’m in no rush to let my wittle baby grow up. Keep ‘em young and the hair long! …Cause mommy can’t let go.

11 month Old Hobo

My mornings are perpetually rush-rush; partly because I abuse the snooze and partly because I wake up so freaking early. So as I was leaving for work and goodbye smooching on my chubby checker, I caught a glimpse of what he "really" looks like. Being with a person 24/7 will change the way you see them and my constant exposure to Dylan has me suffering from a first degree prejudice. Since his birth, I’ve wondered if Dylan’s actually a hideous creature with a face “only a mother could love,” or if he’s the Gerber baby I see him as. And all bias aside, I finally understand why haircuts are frequently the topic of conversation. The kid looks like a bum. 

 

Dylan is in between looks right now. Though he is merely an 11 month old, he’s also a whopping 24 lbs. This means he can still rock a onesie but he must always wear pants (sorry son). And though his hair is toddler-esque, it’s only grown from the ridiculous amount he was born with and his mom (oh, is that me?) hasn’t noticed how crazy long and wild it’s come to be. So this morning when I caught a glimpse of my hobo baby’s scraggly locks, I took a moment to acknowledge that he keeps growing without my permission, and that he desperately needs a pair of scissors. 

Sometimes life is so hectic that details become blurs and observations become seldom. And with Dylan’s first birthday only 19 days away, I think it’s time to pump the brakes and take a minute to see this little creature for what he really is: a not so-little baby who is transforming into a big boy. What else am I not seeing as I run through time? And can somebody please press pause before I turn around and he’s graduating high school? I want these days to last forever, mop top and all.

Monday Ain't So Bad!

There's always something to celebrate in my family. For instance today is my younger sister Christina's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL!), but on Saturday it was all about Dylan's grandpa's birthday. Dizbaby is constantly showered in affection and babied by my husband's family so on Saturday he was treated like a big star. He was fed, held, doted over, played with and kissed by everyone. It was really nice being able to eat dinner without having to worry about Dylan screaming over wanting my food or attention because he was distracted with all the love his Tia Norma was giving him. I cant remember the last time I had such a stress-free meal. 

Yesterday morning my husband let me sleep in and I felt so reenergized when I woke up that we used the momentum to go run much needed errands. We not only managed to go to Costco, the grocery store, and Target, but we took the dogs for a walk, did laundry and cut Dylan's hair. Yes, we CUT DYLAN'S HAIR! I am happy to report that Dizbaby no longer has a rat tail growing on the back of his head, nor does he have long wispy strands randomly sticking out everywhere. His locks of baby perfection are safely tucked away as a keepsake for who knows what. 

And because we were so good about knocking out the weekend's to-do list, I can do nothing but play  with and enjoy Dylan all day....starting NOW!