Goodbye

I've accepted the fact that no matter how much you don't want them to, babies always become toddlers, and toddlers always become crazy. (At  least that has been our experience.)
Carver is my baby.
A few months ago, when Carver was a good 18 months old, I was talking to a friend in Idaho Falls who had just had a baby.  I expressed how I wished I was there to cuddle her little newborn and she replied, "I know, your baby isn't a baby anymore!"

S I L E N C E

It was like a slap in the face.  I was shocked.  I looked at Carver and I knew it was true, but I seriously had not even considered that yet.

Is that how it is with your last born?  You can't let go?  Apparently it is for me.  

I loved Carver's curly hair.  Love, love, loved it.

I started thinking it was haircut time back in November, but I decided to wait until after Riley's baptism so the Grandmas and Grandpas could have one more looksie.  But I just kept putting it off.
Then Brad commented that it was looking a little mullet-like and a man from church said he could pass as a Nascar driver.  I started thinking a little more seriously about it.  It was cute 50% of the time.  The other 50% it was usually fuzzy and, yes, a little bit mullety.

Nice and cute:

A Little fuzzy:


Well, on February 11th I finally mustered up the courage to cut it.
(He was nervous.  See him clenching the sides of his high chair?)

 

Once the hard part (and when I say hard, I mean emotionally hard) was over, I concentrated on blending and actually making it a decent cut.   

It didn't last long.
For some reason I impulsively decided to cut his hair after he ate dinner and had something totally sticky. Maybe because he was so happy I figured he'd hold still?  I don't know.
 It sounded like a good idea at the time, but as soon as those locks started falling and clinging to his sticky face and fingers he was not happy at all.
  

But the results were good enough.