Remember those golden curly locks of yours, the ones people marvelled at? The ones that were made up a “Maxism” and which you hated having washed or brushed, but which everyone loved tousling?
Sigh. They’re gone. I got home from work yesterday and found you looking like someone had clipped your hair on a “1” setting. I thought someone had come to school and lobbed your locks off because of a lice outbreak or something, and that I’d missed the memo or option to cut. But it was your
Nanny Scissorhand nanny who did it, not out of malice, but simply out of a badly thought out good intention.
You’re still happy and playing with your diggers and trucks as if two big piles of your former hair weren’t in the dustbin. But I feel gutted, and I *know* it’s only hair, but somehow through the chopping, I feel like my role as a mom has been cut, and that your babyhood/toddlerhood has been altered a bit.
This was a decision I wanted to make with your dad when the time suited us, and as lame as it sounds, I needed time to adjust to a new you. I feel a little out of control, a little bit robbed, and a tad angry.
And yes, perspective tells me that you’re healthy and content, and that hair grows back, and that it’s just hair! But my heart echoes louder than my head, and I’m a bit broken now. I’ll put on my big mommy panties soon, but for now, I’m crying a little over spilt, er, hair.
I’ll chuckle about it soon, promise.
Liked this post? Follow this blog to get more.