hair loss and mourning

I like Monkey's hair long. 

I tried to grow out Opie's hair when he was younger, but he has always had a tremendously large head, and he also has very thick wavy hair.  You pair those two together, throw in some long locks, and you've got yourself a genuinely bonified giant-head child.  So I've learned my lesson: keep Opie's hair short.

But Monkey's hair?  It's so soft, and straight (our only straight-haired child) and super super cute when it's long.  SUPER CUTE.  (Agree with me - it's my blog.) 

But not many people liked the whole long hair thing.  I kept having to threaten various family members with things like, "If I come back to find him with short hair I will DISOWN you, run away with my kids and you will never hear from us again.  EVER."  (Husband was particularly sensitive to this threat.)

However, I did say that once random strangers started referring to him as a girl, I would consider cutting it.  And even though it grew long enough to tuck behind his ears, he never kept it tucked and it was always in his eyes (which aren't doing that great post-surgery anyway.)  And since it was always hanging in his eyes he was constantly rubbing things like food, sand and play-doh in it. 

So finally I relented.

Last monday I sent the boys with their dad to Great Clips.  But I had rules about Monkey's hair, because I was still really not excited to get it cut (which is why I couldn't go with him - I would have probably grabbed him and run screaming from the building when the scissors came out.) 

The "Monkey Hair Cutting Rules" were as follows:

1- It still must be long (although out of his eyes.)
2- It must be shaggy - not Dennis the Menace style
3- Pictures MUST be taken.


Here is a before picture:

 In my defense, Husband only combed one side of his head before leaving the house.  Mostly because he had dinner smeared into the other side.  But still - the messy hair - NOT MY FAULT.

Husband KNEW the rules before he left the house.  And he even called while Monkey was sitting in the chair with scissors poised at his head.

And yet, this was the end result:

WHAT KIND OF HAIRCUT IS THAT?!!!!  Honestly? We paid money for this.

As soon as they got home Monkey came running up to me, very proud of getting a "real" haircut.  So I had to tell him how awesome he looked and how I was so happy that he got his hair cut and blah blah gush gush. 

Really I was cringing and dying a little on the inside.

And the next morning I grabbed my scissors and did what I could to salvage his head.

See here (I call this the Granola Girl haircut - the all natural, requires no effort, little girl, must include the straight across the forehead bangs haircut.)

Do you see it swooshing in the back?   He's a boy, people. A BOY.  Stupid haircutting lady - HE'S A BOY.

 And there you have it - the finished, I still hate it, haircut.  So much for haircutting rules and keeping it long and trying not to look like Dennis the Menace.

And so, to everyone who told me to cut his hair: ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!!!

Because I'm not.  I'm mourning the loss of his hair.  It was such awesome hair.  I loved that hair.  I miss his hair. 

Also, I'm legally changing his name to Samson and never cutting it again.