Category: Anthony

When the neighbors moved out they sold us an old truck for $350. Anthony started working on it with a local mechanic.

For nearly 18 months Anthony has been growing his hair.  Today he finally decided he had had enough, and it was time to get chopped.

It all started with his 2nd grade back to school hair cut.  I told him, “Ok, pictures are tomorrow. We need for everyone to get their hairs cut.”
“No, I don’t want mine cut.”
“Yes, that’s what we do for back-to-school.”
“No. I don’t want it cut.”
“Yes, pictures are tomorrow and we need to have you looking nice.”
“NO.”
“Yes.”
“NO. I DON’T WANT to do it.”
“We’re going anyway.”

He sits angrily at the hair cut, and the next day he wakes up mad, and stays mad.  Here is the result of me insisting that he needed to have a hair cut for pictures so  he can “look nice”.

Yeah, nice.

After this he said he wasn’t going to get his hair cut until he was 10 years old. Why 10?  “That’s when I’ll be a Webelos Scout,” was his response to anyone who asked him when and why.

I finally wised up and realized that I need to let Anthony move at his own pace.  Whenever anyone would push him to get his hair cut my mama bear instinct would start to get a little defensive of my little cub. I would try to politely say, “when he is ready. And he is not ready.”

When told by others, “just cut it while he’s sleeping”  or “just make him do it anyway – you’re the parent”  I would smile and think,
“Yes, I AM HIS parent and I know what is best for my child.  Forcing or doing it while he’s sleeping would be an act of betrayal for him.  Doing something like that  would cause even greater strife in our home and between me and him.  I have a pretty good idea of how to handle my child, thank you very much.”

A month before this eventful day took place, on a Sunday we are standing at the bathroom sink brushing his hair before leaving for church.
“Mom, I think I want to cut my hair now.”
“Now? Right now?”
“Yeah, now.”
“Umm, we’re walking out the door to church. Plus I don’t really know how to cut hair!”
“oh. ok.”

I get to church and in R.S. for the “good news minute” I tell everyone, “As we are walking out the door to come to church, Anthony announced that he’s ready to cut his hair! But we didn’t do it because we were walking out the door.”  Everyone cheered in the room!  Afterward my friend’s mom comes up and says, “I would have been late to church and just done the deed!”

The next day, Monday, I ask Anthony – “After school shall we go get your hair cut?”    He pauses. “Naw.”
~~~~

Another week goes by.  I tell my boys that the next morning we’re going to get trims.  Anthony is building legos, looks up and says, “maybe I’ll get mine trimmed this much” and holds his fingers about an inch apart.

We wake up, eat breakfast, and I say “ok! let’s go get our hairs cut! Ready Anthony!?”    Another pause.  “Naw.”
~~~~

Another week passes. Grandma and Grandpa Berky come for James’ ordination and I say, “Let’s get your hair cut for them when they arrive so you can surprise them.”
“ok, but let’s have them see me with long hair, then the next day we get it cut.”

Next day, “Let’s go get your hair cut Anthony!”     Pause.  “Naw.”
~~~~

Finally, he comes to me and says, “Argh! I hate this hair! I can’t do my school work – it falls in my face. And I can’t ride my rip-stick (aka wiggly skateboard) because it gets in my face and I can’t see where I’m going.”

I smile a big smile and give him a big hug.

I call my friend Tish and say, “Anthony is ready, and I wanted to give you first dibs. My sister can do it too, but thought I’d give you first option, since you are the official hair-cutter.”

While I’m taking these pictures Anthony says, “Mom. I never said that you could take these many pictures.”
“I know.  BUT it’s such an exciting day!”

Tish told me afterward that she could have cut it even shorter, but wanted him to still respect her and go with the length that he told her.  For that I was appreciative!  A mom that understands that children need to be listened to and their ideas accepted.

After all, does the length of hair REALLY matter in the big picture of life?   What does matter?

Relationships.