This has been an emotional weekend for me. It all started Friday. If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know I got my sons haircut Friday morning. My son always had these amazing curls in his hair. I was terrified of getting his haircut because I didn’t want to lose those gorgeous curls of his. The last time I got his hair trimmed, a lot of the curls disappeared. There was still a bit of curl at the ends of his hair, but the real curls, the curls I loved were gone, I just didn’t want to admit it yet.
His hair had gotten really long. It had gotten to the point that it was a lot of work just to maintain it; work he didn’t want me to do to care for it. It was long in the front and he was always brushing it out of his eyes. It was really long in the back and would get matted just sleeping. It was time for him to get a haircut.
The other challenge is that he fights haircuts, and with the pregnancy and my current complications, I can’t hold him and fight him to sit still, so it took a lot of convincing and talking to him about what was going on to talk him into getting his haircut and staying calm. I found a place that has little cars he can sit in and doesn’t have a ton of toys scattered all over the place to make him want to play with instead of sitting in the chair. As soon as we walked into the hair salon, he went straight for one of the “chairs” and started playing inside of it. He loved it! He sat there playing while another little boy was being finished off. Then came his turn and he allowed the hairdresser to cut his hair. It was a huge moment for both of us because he learned to enjoy to get his haircut, and I let go of my desire to keep his hair long just to try to keep curls that were no longer there.
My baby was no longer a baby. He is now a little boy.
I am still not okay with this. I look at my son and he just looks so different now. He looks so much older and so much bigger. It’s amazing how something as simple as a haircut can change your whole view of things.
I have cried a lot this past weekend because of this haircut. I know it’s silly, but it feels like things are different now. This child that I gave birth to, that was so incredibly tiny is now this big boy with an incredible vocabulary, who is taking to potty training like a champ, who I spend every waking moment worrying about him and wondering if I’m doing the best thing for him, is so grown up now. He still needs me, though. And this brings me to another part of my weekend.
Friday night I went to a Pearl Jam concert with my husband’s cousin. Me and her have so much in common with our tastes in music to our politics to even how we want to raise our children, so naturally when we heard Pearl Jam was coming, we got together, got tickets and decided to make it a girls night – also because our husbands weren’t thrilled about going to a Pearl Jam concert, which I still don’t understand. Their loss.
So I made arrangements with my mother to keep Sebastian at her house overnight since I wouldn’t be getting home until really late at night. I didn’t want to inconvenience her by picking him up at 1 am when I got home from the concert. You know what they say about the best-laid plans, though.
She tried to put him down at 8:30 pm, which is about his bedtime and he stayed in bed playing from 8-10 pm. At 10 pm he freaked out and had a meltdown. She told me she had to put him in her car and take him for a drive and pretend to be taking him home so he would calm down enough to pass out. He finally did fall asleep and she was able to transfer him from the car to the bed and all went well until 4 am. At 4 am I get a call from my mom telling me, “I’m sorry, but I think you should come pick him up.” She handed the phone to my son so I could talk to him and he sounded so miserable like I had abandoned him or something. So I got dressed and went to pick him up. Thankfully she lives right down the street from me because I was exhausted.
He was an emotional wreck when I got there. As soon my mom opened the door for me, he came running up to me, still crying, begging me to hold him and said, “bye-bye nana”, like he was ready to go home and be with mom. All the way home and even when we got home, he was still crying and whimpering. I put him in his bed and stayed with him for a little bit and he eventually rolled over and went to sleep. He was happy to be home and happy to know that mom was there. That’s all he wanted was for mom to be there.
The problem with this, though, is that even though I am so grateful that he needs me, especially since my confidence has wavered a bit from him favoring my husband, I needed some me time. I needed to catch up on sleep and not feel like a little person depended on me, even if it was just for one night. I needed a break and that didn’t happen. I am not at my best when I don’t feel my best, and I haven’t felt my best all weekend. I am exhausted, I haven’t been sleeping well, and my whole body hurts. I’ve reached the point in my pregnancy where I am just uncomfortable. The baby is kicking more and more, especially at night, and a few of her kicks are well placed and cause pain or wake me up. To top it off, I still have to use the bathroom multiple times at night, so my sleep is constantly interrupted. I know once she comes it’s only going to get worse, but since my husband has been gone for 2 weeks and everything has fallen on me, I needed what I call a mental hygiene break just to be able to gather myself and feel whole again.
So on top of the fact that I’ve been very emotional about the haircut (and no doubt the pregnancy hormones have also been wreaking havoc on my moods), I didn’t get the chance to sleep, rest, and gather myself emotionally so I could be there for my son. And because of his meltdown, now I feel like I have to be there for him and can’t get the much-needed break I need because he needs me more right now.
Thankfully, my husband comes back Sunday so maybe when he’s home he can entertain Sebastian so I can rest and gather myself again. That “me” time will just have to wait a week.