Elan in full shagginess, March 2013

 Post-bang trim, with the most beautiful lollipop

You know what happens? I write a long, involved post, but then I get stopped somewhere along the way (usually at putting the pictures in), and then I just stop posting altogether. That one blockage just keeps everything else from flowing out around it. Maybe life is like this too. We get stuck on one thing that’s not working, and it’s difficult to shift our focus, to work around that one thing and keep going.

So now it’s spring, and we’ve all recovered from our last round of winter illness, and we’ve gone to San Diego for spring break and returned home, and my boys are seriously shaggy fellows. I’ve been encouraged to take on cutting my kids’ hair, at least their bangs, for years. My mother-in-law even left me a nice sharp pair of scissors, but they have always sat neglected in the medicine cabinet until she comes to visit. I was nervous about cutting hair. It seemed so permanent, so easy to mess up. But a few weeks ago, inspired by spring growth everywhere, newness and change, I started trimming bangs. Elan was first, and since we were both nervous, I gave him the most beautiful lollipop ever as a bribe reward.

Emry is squirmy, so I wasn’t sure I’d have the guts to cut his hair. But then one evening, with half a beer in my system, after we had finished a lovely dinner outside in the spruced-up patio/yard, I just grabbed the scissors and went for it. Mikhail held him in his lap, and he stayed pretty still, so long as he got to hold the lollipop he wanted, the lellow one.

Elan didn’t really need another bang trim desperately, but he wanted a lollipop. When it was his turn, he screwed up his little face, eyes shut tight against the danger of his mother wielding scissors, body crunched back as far as he could go into Mikhail’s chest. Emry, watching and licking his lollipop happily, made concerned noises and assured his brother that his lollipop was waiting. “Elan, your wowipop here. The red one for you!”

“Emry,” said Elan, in his big-brother, I’m telling you how it is voice, eyes still slammed tight.

“It’s not about the lollipop. It’s about being brave.”

I loved watching his face change as he said it. As the words came out of his mouth, he believed them. His body relaxed, just a bit. He sat up a little straighter.

It is what we tell ourselves it is.