If He's Samson and HE'S Delilah, who am I??

Remember when I wrote this post about getting O's hair cut?

I'm fairly certain that by reading that post, it would become CLEAR to you
(or anyone who's literate)
that  I am not ready to part with my son's locks.

My Dearest Spouse?
Didn't get the fucking memo.

He has been on my ass about cutting his hair since O turned 1.  Even before.

It has been a weekly argument.
That always ends in tears.
Mine.

The last time we had the argument, I told him:

I am not ready.  I love his hair.  LOVE.  I am not ready to cut it.  AT ALL.  I know it's long and shaggy, but I ADORE it that way.  It's not hurting anybody!  Leave me be.  I will let you know when I am emotionally composed enough to cut.

Maybe that is  over the top, but I could give a shit.  

And why the fuck this was such an issue for my husband I'll never know.  He's not a rigid guy about hair or dress etc., usually...

The whole thing was really pissing me off.

Then this weekend rolls around, and I had anticipated staying in.
O was sick, and we had already canceled all of our weekend plans, so as not to infect anyone else.

Movies, and Comfies, and Snuggling! Yay!

People?

Instead?

Sobbing and Fighting and Shearing, is what I got.


Husband announces to me, late Saturday afternoon, that we are taking O to get his hair cut.

Ummm, no we are fucking not. The baby is not feeling well. We are.NOT.

Husband says:  Yes we are! And we're bringing my mom!

Are you shitting me?

He is not, friends.  He is serious.

We fight.  It is obvious to anyone with a pulse, that I am not happy.
And he's using his innocent mother as a human shield?
Poor form, Husby. POOR.

I do NOT want this.  I do not agree to this.

 But, I feel badgered to death, I am tired of arguing.  It is obvious, that on this point, my usually sweet partner has a mental block to hearing me on this issue.

So we will go. For Fuck's Sake, we will go.

But this is just a TRIM.  As in his bangs.
So that they are out of his eyes.
(as that seems to be the monumental force behind this movement)

Fine.

I was promised that THAT would be all.

His curls or wispies would not be harmed.

Outright LIES, readers. LIIIIIIIES.

We get to the hair place....
It's brightly colored and has rocket ships.
WooFuckingHoo.

Do you know what I see?

A bunch of little ones getting sheared and sobbing.

I try not to meltdown.
My husband is trying to cajole me.
It will not work.  Do not kid yourself Senor.
I again, make him promise a trim...

It's our turn.

She straps him into his rocket.
The tears start to well...
She puts the smock on.
Tears are rolling...
She asks what we want.
I am sobbing.

Yes, I really was sobbing.  As I may have mentioned? 
I FUCKING LOVE HIS HAIR.
DO NOT TOUCH IT.

I couldn't form a sentence....other than to say: I don't want to cut it.


Instead of stopping right then and there? Which is what I would have done?

She asks my husband what he wants.
Really?!!


Instead of saying:

Just a bang trim, Thanks!

He starts talking about the back and sides.
They agree on a cut similar to a boy that just left.
With barely any hair.


WHAT THE LIVING FUCK?

I can't even say anything because I am so irate. Oh, and sobbing. Lest we forget that gorgeous piece of public humiliation....

I try to croak out that I just want his bangs cut....please don't touch the rest, but she is already busy snipping away.

That traitorous bastard I married?
He's happily snapping pictures.

I am still sobbing AND trying to blow bubbles to keep O calm.
[BTW, sobbing and blowing, in any arena? Doesn't mix. A helpful hint from me to you.]


The cut is done.

It's awful. 
It's very Slingblade-meets-Toddler bowl cut, with a mullet starter kit in the back. 
(only worse.)


I look at him and just cry more.


My husband now realizes that the has made a grave mistake.

I can see it on his face.

This allows me to make the transition from heartbroken to livid.
I was already at my boiling point before we got there and this sent me over the edge....

My MIL takes the baby so we can get some food.
I am a big believer in not fighting in public.
Honestly.
BUT.
We sit down to eat and I just LOSE MY SHIT.

Have you ever seen the couple at a restaurant who are fighting-- but quietly, through clenched teeth?
The harsh whispered screams?
We are that couple.

I am angry and heartbroken.  I do not appreciate having my feelings in the matter totally disrespected.  I am hurt/embarrassed that he just stood there while I sobbed.  And?  He let them butcher our son's beautiful hair.

He apologizes.
But he thinks I'm overreacting.
I can tell he thinks I'll get used to it...

We go home.

I am angry and hurt and silent.
Looking at the baby makes me cry.

I know that Husband feels awful, but I need time to process.
I tell him that I accept his apology, but that he needs to give me space.

But he won't.

He HATES when I am angry at him.  It makes him want to crawl out of his skin.
While I understand, I try to explain that I am thoroughly hurt and angry on several levels...this is going to take more than a minute to subside....

Explaining and justifying on both sides turns to more fighting.
My temper is no longer in check.

I go take a long shower. With the door locked.

I get out a calmer me.
He is a more honestly apologetic him.
He finally sees what this was for me.

And he admits that he thinks O's hair cut is as AWFUL as I do, and that it was mistake to rush his first hair cut.

We kiss and make up....sorta.

I warn him that I am still not 100% over it.

Next morning?
It still makes me weepy to look at the baby's head.

Husband is desperate to save this somehow.
He decides that he will use the clippers to cut O's hair so that it is 1nch in length all over, evening it out.



You may be yelling at my obviously crazy husband:

BITCH, DON'T GO IN THERE!! You're gonna get killed!!

But you know what?


I LOVE IT.

I'm still mourning his curls and wispies, but his new 1950's-style little man 'do makes me smile....
[and forgive that traitorous bastard husband of mine....a little bit more.  Hey, it's a process.]

Still?

Heartbroken.
His hair was awesome.

Spouseface owes me BIG TIME for our anniversary and my birthday.

BIG.
Ha!