Today’s Muse. Little Boy Haircuts.

Sometimes my life is so cliche, I think I can’t write about a subject ~ it’s too cliche.

But sometimes life in your mid-40s sandwiched between aging parents and young children just melts from one fat platitude into another.

I’ve refused to blog about my children getting haircuts because everyone who has a blog shows a picture of their child in the barber chair.

But then I visited my parents this week and the subject kept coming back to my son’s hair. Please take him to Maria — the woman hair-keeper to my parent’s dos. “She can shape up his hair.”

Shape-up. Code for…you’ve let his hair get too long, too unruly. You’ve been following your own butterfly fancies and neglected to tame your son’s mane. Or failed to interrupt your desires and drive him to a stylist.

One thing age has tamed in me…the desire to battle my parents over cliches.

The march into Danny's.

Danny was a barber who left to follow a call as a Methodist preacher and now Maria, who apprenticed haircutting in Spain at age 12, runs Danny’s for Danny — who now is answering his holy call.

And once again I stepped into the middle of an old time haircuttery cliche.

I fell in love with Maria and Danny’s and knew I was supposed to be there in that chair watching my son get his haircut even if it meant squishing down every ounce of frustration at my parents for not so subtly trying to parent their very middle-aged daughter.

Maria and Joe.

Maria reminded me of my high school Spanish teacher, whom I loved. She was so vibrant, nuturing, positive and kind. Energy radiated from her. She talked of many things — but one thing she said I will always remember. She said it as an afterthought in a lot of conversation about Joe’s curls.

Curls which Joe can’t stand.

“Your hair makes you standout. You are different. You don’t look like anyone else, that’s why people notice you.”

And that was the revelation.

Joe does stand out. People notice his hair. He is very beautiful and different in his Joe way. But for the first time I got it.

He’s not so sure he likes to stand out. He not so sure he wants to be so different.

Joe is a ham and cut up. But like everyone — there are days you just want to have your straight, shag-Keith-Partridge cut like everyone else and fade into the 7th grade hall wall.

It’s my job to make him realize how special — looking different and being noticed  — is.

All done...

Some days I wonder if I can be the daughter I need to be and many days I wonder if I can be the mom this head of curls needs me to be…

In that chair in Danny’s listening to the television droning, in that shop with the little Spanish flags, drawing of Christ wearing the crown of thorns, tons of snapshots of relatives,

 I knew.