when good haircuts go bad

funny thing happened yesterday.

i suppose it's one of those childhood rites of passage things....you know, those horror stories recounted with glee at family gatherings when the involved parties are decades older.

i suppose it was only a matter of time.

i should preface this by saying this is another one of those Truth in Advertising posts where i don't gloss over the gory details.

it was early evening and the kids and i had just returned from a visit with my mom and dad, B wasn't yet home from his day of running around various court-houses and law-firms doing assorted legally-paperworkish things....i was settling in with a cuppa for a bit of blog-reading and the kids were downstairs playing quietly.

that, Dear Reader, is when my maternal antennae should have been all a-quiver. "quietly". clearly, i was tired/couldn't be bothered/thankful for the peace.

Sebastian suddenly materialized beside me wearing assorted stickers on his face and wrapped up in twine. not unusual in itself, they have a rather strange dynamic at times, these two cherubim of mine.  but this latest escapade of attire could not disguise the fact that Savannah had evidently decided his hair needed a bit of a trim ("It was getting in his eyes!"). which he did. i just hadn't got around to it.

(photo taken this morning) 

here's where i'd like to say i handled it with the cool, calm and thoroughly Zen attitude of a more enlightened mother who of course realizes, It's just hair, She's expressing her independence, It's of little importance in the Grand Scheme of Things, Bashy doesn't mind, It doesn't look that bad....and other such  wisdoms. and there's also the monumental irony of her dreadlocks which some people would consider the epitome of Hair Crimes and view with downright revulsion...and not only have i supported her decision but also aided and abetted their creation. what kind of mother am i?

but this is my baby boy.

and his beautiful golden hair.

after i attempted to make it even, he looked less like a victim of a nuclear accident but it really, really, really bugged me. really.

and i told Savannah so.

and i forbid her to EVER do anything like that again.  (amongst other recriminations that i don't even remember in my moment of angst over the hairdo).  all of which i felt horrible about after having time to calm down.

so what's the deal?  who was that person who reared her authoritarian head and FREAKED OUT over a bad haircut?

alas, it seems i still have vestiges of the Curse Of Caring What Other People Think.

which really sucks because i thought i'd risen above that. i mean, i do rise above that -- on a daily basis, even. and to think i had a moment  (okay, several) over something as superficial as hair. ugh.

maybe it had something to do with my own baggage about bad haircuts. one too many during high school...

but mostly it's got me thinking.  i'll let you know what i come up with. if anything.

ps. Savannah is utterly cool with the whole thing, she regarded my freak-out with much bemusement. she is clearly more enlightened than i. and yes, i apologized for getting crabby and saying ridiculous things.