Hair Adventures: A Mother’s Journey with Haircuts

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As a mom of two energetic boys, I’ve come to terms with the typical wardrobe choices they prefer—think plenty of Minecraft tees, Skylanders underwear, and socks adorned with skulls. While I once delighted in dressing my eldest in collared shirts and plaid shorts, relishing the preppy look, I’ve accepted that his style now revolves around various cartoon characters and video games rated “E” for everyone, a trend that his adoring younger brother has eagerly adopted. Consequently, I’ve stepped back from my role as the fashion guru in their lives. Or perhaps I’ve just gotten a bit lazy; the days of browsing through the Babies”R”Us section, marveling at the cuteness of tiny overalls, have been replaced by hurried trips to Target for milk and pajamas.

However, one area where I’ve remained firm is their haircuts. From the moment my oldest was old enough to sit still while draped in a barber’s cape, I’ve relished the ritual of taking both boys to the barbershop. I adore the barber chairs, the buzz of the clippers, and the nostalgic photos of classic men’s haircuts on the walls, easy to choose from like a fast-food menu: “I’ll take a No. 4 on top and a No. 2 on the sides.” Watching young boys and teens patiently waiting for their turns creates a scene reminiscent of a bygone era.

Perhaps my enjoyment of this tradition stems from my own past experiences. As the eldest of four girls, I grew up with homemade bowl cuts styled on a wooden stool in our kitchen, so barbershops always felt like an exclusive domain for boys. They seemed to represent a carefree world where boys could get their hair cut short without facing judgment. Boys who wore what felt comfortable, spoke plainly, and lived simply.

Growing up, I often envied the perceived freedom that boys enjoyed. As a girl, I faced the usual pressures that came with puberty: my first period, training bras, home perms, and blue eyeshadow. I wished for the simplicity of throwing on whatever shirt was clean and stepping out of the house without worrying about my looks. If I couldn’t experience that freedom myself, I could certainly live it through my sons.

Yet, I know that as they grow, my boys will want more control over their hairstyles. For now, though, their ages and disinterest in grooming allow me a few more years of influence. This confidence was front of mind when I took my 5-year-old, Ethan, to the barbershop just a few days ago. His hair had grown faster than expected, likely due to summer’s warmth, and I thought a shorter cut would be easier to manage.

“Sure,” the barber said, wrapping a cape around my slightly sulky son. “I’ll use a No. 1 on the sides instead of a No. 2. That should last until school starts.”

Minutes later, she spun the chair around to reveal the new look, which instantly transformed Ethan’s pout into a look of despair.

“It’s too short!” he wailed, covering his head with his arms. The barber frowned while I offered an apologetic smile. I had indeed requested a short cut, but not one that seemed nearly as dramatic as he perceived it.

“You look fantastic!” I reassured him. “So handsome!”

He frowned and continued to hold his arms over his head as we walked to the car. “Too short, too short, too short…” he chanted, climbing into the backseat. “I look bald.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatic reaction. “Come on, it’s just a haircut,” I muttered.

Over the next few hours, I tried various methods to ease his distress about his new hair length, each attempt met with resistance.

“You look older,” I suggested. “Almost seven!”
“I just look old and bald,” he shot back.
“Lots of boys get haircuts this short for summer,” I pointed out.
“Not anyone I know,” he asserted firmly.
“Daddy has short hair,” I tried again. “You look just like him.”
“No, I don’t!”

Finally, I admitted, “I’m sorry I had her cut it this short. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t like it. I won’t let it get cut this short again, okay? But let’s move on; it will grow back.”
“I want to wear a hat to camp,” he insisted.

As much as I wanted to explain to my 5-year-old that he was overreacting, I recognized the futility of that thought. His main concern was that everyone at camp would mock him for being “bald.” I couldn’t seem to reassure him that this fear was unfounded.

Forty-eight hours later, he still refused to leave home without a baseball cap pulled down over his ears. “Did he keep his hat on in the pool?” I asked the camp counselor when I picked him up.

“No,” she replied with a smile. “But he kept his arms over his head most of the time.”

As much as Ethan’s response to his haircut seemed exaggerated, I found it relatable. How many first days of school had I dreaded over whether my outfits would pass muster? I remembered the times I tried to express my individuality, only to feel the sting of giggles behind my back. My son, who exuberantly showcases his creativity at home yet struggles to fit in outside, is clearly cut from the same cloth.

Eventually, I realized my assumptions about the carefree nature of little boys were misguided, and dismissing my son’s feelings about his appearance was unfair. At 5 years old, he has shown a genuine interest in how he presents himself, and within reason, I’m willing to support that—no ponytails or mullets, though.

This article was first published on July 22, 2015.

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Summary

In this lighthearted reflection, a mom shares her experiences navigating her sons’ evolving styles and haircuts, revealing insights into the societal pressures of appearance. As she learns to support her son’s self-expression while balancing her own perceptions of gender roles, she discovers that understanding and empathy are essential in parenting.