Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Day 3 - A.D.

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."


  1. I don't even know what to say. Except; you are doing the right things. You are being the mom. Making the hard decisions. Following through. Letting him know just how much you love him. That's the job; and you are doing it perfectly.

  2. You're his mom not his friend and you're doing the mom thing. I hope he knows this. My hearts aches for you both though. Kids do the stupidest things don't they? I'm sure he's embarrassed about all of this and it will be OK.

  3. Keep strong, he needs you to be his mum, not his comrade, you are doing all the right things x

  4. I am engrossed in this, your life. How strong you are in admirable and awesome. Be strong, you and Hub. Your son will be so grateful one day.

    I wonder if you can clarify a little without giving us any personal detail.

    I'm guessing your hubby is the expert, so is this part of a learned system of rehab in the home? Or is this flying by the seat of your pants. I get the impression. You guys 'know' what you are doing here.

    btw I've deleted your email and wonder if you can check the dashboard day 6 is missing?!+*??

  5. Well, we truly are going with our gut. We do believe that healing and creating healthy kiddos all starts with attachment. And in our house, active attachment is a regular part of what we do. So we are keeping the big goal - bringing him in to us - in mind as we make the little decisions. Helps us to focus us when we have so much to do and think about.

    I didn't do a day 6 because there was a post for that day already.

    Meanwhile, sharing this journey is such a help for me. I think that most parents don't want to talk about it - so it is a bit lonely. And of course, as you all fellow bloggers know, there is something about the process of writing that helps to make the messy stuff more clear.

    I hope that I'm not boring you all...I won't go on and on about it too much longer...

  6. I am in awe of you all, all you mother's, and fathers of teenagers. I would be lost, I think.

  7. thanks...we want to le this series run uninterrupted... so have rescheduled other posts...

  8. Not boring at all.
    I cried with you over those curls. Literally felt tears sliding down my cheeks.
    I came because FFF suggested these "Day_"s posts as not-to-miss reading, and she was right.
    I'm in awe of how you are handling this! (I have a 21 year old that could've used some serious intervening I think and an 11,9,6 and 3 year old that I am taking your example on board for).

  9. Thanks so much, Hostage, for sharing the pain. Lightens my load to know that you and others understand. "These Day__"s are such a healing process.

  10. I am feeling your pain so much...the way you describe those curls....:0(

  11. My heart buried that same emotion you write of above that I once felt as well. This post brought it back to the surface. How odd, it was also while he was having his hair cut. I saw in the reflection my boy. My boy. Now a young man.

    If I could support you with letters formed into words let this be it: (((hug)))