As the day starts, I still haven't cried yet. I am focused on the steps I need to take.
Have I mentioned that my husband is an alcohol and drug counselor. Yup. And he didn't think the test would be positive. It was me...the mom...who knew. How did I know?
I just knew.
So on Day 3 I met him off the school bus, and took him to get his hair cut. Short.
When he got in the car he was quiet. We haven't yelled, we haven't argued. He has gone along with everything that I have told him to do.
"You could have told me, Mom. You could have told me that I was going to have a hair cut."
"Hummm, I suppose I could have. I'll tell you this much: things are going to be different. For instance, I am not going to pay for college for a kid who is smoking pot."
C has thick, curly, beautiful hair, that I have always cut myself. He hasn't had it short since he was a truly little boy. Now he is only a little boy in my heart, a 17-year old, 6 foot tall man-child to my eyes.
When he sat in the chair and the hair dresser asked, "how short", I didn't give him a chance to answer.
"Really? His hair is so beautiful. Are you sure?"
Her own hair was half blond and half pink. She was only a year or two older than my son. Wait -- is she flirting with my handsome son? I want to tell her to get her hands out of his curls. But I don't.
"Yes. I'm sure."
He looks at me and knows I mean business.
When she was almost done, she asks me what I think. "I think you need to use the clippers. The bangs are too long. It needs to be very clean cut -- I want him to look like ... like...someone that you would not go out with."
I'm flashing back as I hear the clippers turn on. My son was born with a thick head of hair. It looked straight at first until we washed his head while still in the hospital. I ran the fine toothed baby comb through his hair and it curled right up. He has hair like mine. The first sign that he was truly my son.
I remember his first hair cut. I have the lock of hair in his baby book. It was a quick trim, ceremonial almost.
This is the longest hair cut of my life. I send a text to a dear friend while I am waiting --
"My first tears are falling as I watch his curls hit the floor."