Hairs Looking at You, Kid

hands-up        me

So…  it’s not the most  professional job ever… but something had to be done about the Little Lord Fauntleroy / Curly Locks hybrid look. Harry is a pretty child (his mother staunchly asserts) and was in danger (his father thought) of shortly being mistaken for a girl.


The curls weren’t bothering me as such, but the fuzzy, knotted, split-end ‘fro on the back on his head needed attention, which necessitated an overall shortening. The two curls above either ear were fabulous though, and I mourn them.




He now looks a very grown up young man indeed –


entirely appropriate, however, for a chap who can totally stack his duplo like a young Frank Lloyd Wright.



His layers (I think Americans may call them… bangs? We call bangs bloody large explosions, generally, but let’s not get sidetracked) are noticeably uneven on either side, because the chances of his sitting still for even a single snip were somewhere between fat and none – so I surreptitiously attacked him with scissors while he was spark-out on his letter cushions one naptime. I attempted to trim him more levelly after he awoke, but he was swatting at the ferociously sharp scissors like they were a particularly pesky bluebottle, so I desisted.


The cushions that he is clinging to like ship-wreckage, incidentally, are supposed to read HARRY, but even after 17 months I have only managed HA. Go me!

The reason he was a sufficient number of fathoms deep enough to let me wield scissors around his earholes, was that the little blighter has not been sleeping at night.  He either sleeps straight through without a murmur (for reasons we would GIVE GOLD to understand) or spends long hours emitting a choice selection of ear-splitting and increasingly hoarse ululations, interspersed with the shocking thuds of his previously mentioned headbangs. I wouldn’t actually mind if all he wanted was to sleep in our bed – but whenever we give in and bring him in with us, after 5 minutes he’s rampaging around the bed like a demented thing, treading heavily on both primary and secondary genitalia, and dispensing liberal amounts of unerring wild arm-swings and kicks to the face, even in the pitch-dark. Eventually, Hubby loses his rag and stuffs him – protesting! – back in his grobag, and transports him unceremoniously back to his cot. Where he screams for another hour before John ends up hauling him downstairs to the recliner to be rocked to sleep; and an hour later the cycle of attrition begins over again.

4am is not the best time to thrash out a future management plan for this sort of thing – the conversation does tend towards sounding suspiciously like an enumeration of your spouse’s baby-handling mistakes – however, changes have been decided upon. Harry was not the lucky recipient of a boob this morning, much to his puzzlement and frustration. He had cuddles instead (which he scorned) and was given some children’s TV to watch (grudging acceptance). Only when completely distracted by Teletubbies was he summoned to the boob – a call he responded to with alacrity, his legs almost wheel-spinning, cartoon fashion. So, hopefully we will break the wakey, wakey/ immediate warm boob connection – while also enabling me to do away with this feed altogether soon.

This evening, I fed him downstairs before handing him over to Hubby for his bath. We both read him a story, then John rocked him for a little while in the dark. He went into his cot awake, rather than 95% comatose on boob, and had a brief grizzle before conking out. He’s mithered on and off since 10.30pm, but his heart hasn’t been in it. 3am is when he usually kicks off properly – but we shall stand firm, shoulder to shoulder against the menace of child tyranny!

Actually, I shall probably get stressed and cry, but it has to be done. We need our beauty sleep.

And, lastly, sticking on the topic of beauty – everyone seems to be digging out their teenage horror pics lately! I have none of my absolute screamers to hand, as Mum is guarding them… but I promise they are worse than any other blogger’s I have seen to date. So bad, in fact, I don’t think I’m actually brave enough to post ’em. I shall see. Hubby abstracted and hid the one of me with inexplicable hair, wearing a bandana, W. Axl Rose-style, posing with my acoustic guitar (I didn’t own an electric one to pose with at the time… I’m blushing just TYPING this, FFS!), in order to embarrass me with… but he’s actually hidden it so well, he’s lost it, thank the Lord. I do have this one though, in which you get a clue about where my hair is headed for in a couple of years. Enjoy!



15 Responses

  1. I am always so sad when those first baby curls are gone, it is such a milestone isn’t it? My babies never recovered those curls, but if the picture that you posted of yourself is anything to go by then Harry has every hope of having more curls in his future. I think it is a lovely photo and you have beautiful hair, I have curl envy, to be honest.
    And Harry looks very much like a boy, I don’t think you will ever have to worry about his being mistaken for a girl, his features are already masculine while still those of a baby.

  2. Mistaken for a girl? Harry is COMPLETELY butch. No worries.

    I do love the black-light embroidery vest. Did you save it? Would make a dandy letter pillow.

  3. Oh my 🙂

    I really should get out my adolescent photos. Really I should.

    They’re truly dire.

    I think that’s the reason I can’t find them. They’re burnt.


  4. Oh he’s cute, before and after the trim. TBB got his 1st haircut a month before his 2nd birthday. He had wicked blonde curls but was at the bouffant point. TTG is still working on his fuzz.

  5. Love the falling asleep position, as an adult i do something quite similar which is why I sleep dreadfully when I visit my parents and only get a single bed…

  6. Heh, well my dork photos are up on the internet for all to see and they look WAY worse that yours! I’m envious of your lovely, thick locks.

    Harry looks wonderful as always though I miss the curls above his ears just as you do. I mourned when my SIL cut my nephews’ hair too, as they have similar golden curls. Something about boys with long hair…sigh. I just like it.

  7. Bangs = fringe. Layers are just layers thankfully (and parting = “part”)

  8. My SIL (2 boys with golden curls) just let the hair keep on growing. Even now my 8 year old nephew wears his hair much longer than his contemporaries, the reason? “I just like it this way” – it’s not really long long, just down over his ears and curls against the back of his neck. Very sweet really.

    But harry looks adorable either way. I’m impressed with your hairdressing skills.

    Re sleep, I wish you luck. Pob sleeps better than Harry but still has her off nights and I’m blowed if I can explain why.

  9. Not too late for the comment on my blog but can I have an email address so I can email you and let you know when the item is made so I can get your address! hilltopkatie at gmail dot com

  10. Isn’t it amazing how a few snips with the scissors turns your baby boy into a toddler? He looks adorable.

    Your HS photo is not at all horrible. I have one (which will never be posted) that is so hideous that my aunt (who was hugely supportive of me all my life) told me I looked like a pig in the picture. Eek.

  11. My mother was one of those who thought her children looked fine in garbage bags. Or must have, considering what she actually let us out of the house in. You look great, and not terribly dorky. Harry is precious, and my hand is up too! I had home-cuts until I could pay for them myself, or I had cut my own hair beyond a trim with the blunt scissors. Careful with those, and never walk out of the room lest your child scalp him-or herself.

  12. I still have nightmares of ‘The Bowl’. I have 8 siblings and it was a case of “One Bowl Fits All”

    Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps…

    Oh…And I am kid number 5 from a not very affluent Irish family, so you can imagine what I looked like with the Haircut and sixth-hand clothes 😦

  13. Oh sorry… Kid no. 6 (I forgot one) 🙂

  14. Harry so cute. So so cute. Mmmm. Even the fuzzy matted bit. Even without the fuzzy matted bit and accompanying curls.

    I have curly hair. My mother summarily decided it was too much to deal with and kept it hacked off short for most of my childhood. Curly hair cares less, it just stood up on end and looked good and untidy. The WORST cut was the cute and utterly straight bob with fringe some LUNATIC hairdresser inflicted on me at 11, just before I went to boarding school. Well. A cute bob with fringe that looked lovely for, ooh, 20 minutes, before The Curl fought back against the seventeen cans of Elnett holding it down.

    I draw a veil over my adolescent hair struggles thereafter.

  15. Curls over each ear like Harry’s pre-haircut were known as Koala Ears by the fashion conscious mini-inhabitants at Villa Kore. It broke my heart to pin them down long enough to trim the hair into submission. Harry and the haircut…adorable as ever.

    I’ll skim lightly over the adolescent fashion but your hair..your hair. I’d have killed to have hair like that! Instead one hideous perm followed another. I’ve needed therapy for the damage those perms inflicted. Among other things.

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