My fifteen year old son is a nice kid.
Of course, it's fair to say I am biased. It's a mother thing. He's my first born and only boy. He could fart a song and I'd think it was worth recording. (exaggeration)
He's had a part time job bagging groceries since August. Nothing strenuous; two or three days a week. He's enjoyed the pay. He's never late. He's only called in sick one day... and he WAS really sick.
The job has allowed him a newfound freedom. He's made a decent chunk of change that has never accumulated due to his tastes in skateboards, hoodies, hats and shoes. My rationale has been; he's the one working, it's his money to spend and throughout the last four months he's had to make a couple of 'payments' on 'loans' back to his parents. I paid for his shoes on Visa, he paid me back when they arrived. He also bought a stereo from his dad. Pretty responsible.
He spent his last paycheck on a haircut and a color. He spent a good deal of time looking over styles. His idols are less rock-stars and more professional skateboard athletes, however both sets of celebrities boast dyed black hair, studded lip or eyebrow posts and many tattoos.
Gone are the days of polo shirts and jeans with zippers up the sides of your legs. Or if your mom was really cool and you had money, you could get the jeans with the zipper from back to front around the crotch. Remember those? Peter Pan felt boots. Jean jackets. Giant plastic hoop earrings. Fingerless gloves. Leg warmers. Only freaks would've pierced something other than their earlobes. Twice.
But he found a hair cut he liked. And I had to admit, while it was vibrant and unique, I'd seen worse. I actually didn't give it too much thought. It was his choice. His money. His hair. No big deal.
When he came out of the salon the night he had it done, I was slightly agape. His hair, which is longish all the way around, was jet black on the sides and over the front, with a giant bleach blond stripe through the middle with little tufts of bleach blonde in the bangs. It sounds worse than the photo looked. The hairdresser had set the dyed blond stripe staight up into a full-fledged mohawk. There was no mohawk in the picture I saw.
He LOVED it and was completely satisfied. Giddy. He scared his Auntie with it, and evoked envy from his cousin.
The next day, he went to school and when he got home that night I asked, "What did your friends think?" He said, "Some hated it. Some thought it was cool. But I don't care what anyone thinks. I like it." The following morning, he washed out the mohawk and straightened and styled it himself. It seemed to be something that made him grow up just a little more.
His own money. His own style. His own choice.
When I picked him up from work today, he said casually, "My supervisor told me that I have to dye my hair normal or find another job, so I gave my two weeks written notice."
I was quietly suprised. I'd honestly never considered that his employment would take issue with his hair over his performance. He didn't bat an eye and said he'd like to apply at the movie place down the road. He wasn't disappointed at all.
I, however, was. Not because he made the choice to give his notice, but because he had been judged on his hair. Forget that he is a pleasant kid who's never late; he now LOOKS like a trouble maker... He was told: CONFORM or you're fired.
I've warned my kids about this rule: Guilt by Association. The rule that says, people will judge you based on the way you look and the people you hang out with and the way you talk.
We all do it. I do it. I've done it. But it sure feels different when it hits you where it hurts. At home.
I'm suddenly selfish.
Do people think I am a bad parent?
Do they think I don't care?
Do they think he's using drugs?
Do they think he is a problem kid?
I see him as him.
I see past the hair.
I hope I am not blinded by mother love.
Am I missing something? What if everyone thinks he's a bad kid? What if they treat him poorly because of it? What if he wants to get a tattoo? What if he gets an eyebrow piercing? Or worse yet, snake bites! What if this decision leads to worse decisions...
What if this new blond stripe in his hair leads to drugs?
Get a grip Kim.
Writing like this... people will think I'M the one on drugs.
It's just hair.
Of course, it's fair to say I am biased. It's a mother thing. He's my first born and only boy. He could fart a song and I'd think it was worth recording. (exaggeration)
He's had a part time job bagging groceries since August. Nothing strenuous; two or three days a week. He's enjoyed the pay. He's never late. He's only called in sick one day... and he WAS really sick.
The job has allowed him a newfound freedom. He's made a decent chunk of change that has never accumulated due to his tastes in skateboards, hoodies, hats and shoes. My rationale has been; he's the one working, it's his money to spend and throughout the last four months he's had to make a couple of 'payments' on 'loans' back to his parents. I paid for his shoes on Visa, he paid me back when they arrived. He also bought a stereo from his dad. Pretty responsible.
He spent his last paycheck on a haircut and a color. He spent a good deal of time looking over styles. His idols are less rock-stars and more professional skateboard athletes, however both sets of celebrities boast dyed black hair, studded lip or eyebrow posts and many tattoos.
Gone are the days of polo shirts and jeans with zippers up the sides of your legs. Or if your mom was really cool and you had money, you could get the jeans with the zipper from back to front around the crotch. Remember those? Peter Pan felt boots. Jean jackets. Giant plastic hoop earrings. Fingerless gloves. Leg warmers. Only freaks would've pierced something other than their earlobes. Twice.
But he found a hair cut he liked. And I had to admit, while it was vibrant and unique, I'd seen worse. I actually didn't give it too much thought. It was his choice. His money. His hair. No big deal.
When he came out of the salon the night he had it done, I was slightly agape. His hair, which is longish all the way around, was jet black on the sides and over the front, with a giant bleach blond stripe through the middle with little tufts of bleach blonde in the bangs. It sounds worse than the photo looked. The hairdresser had set the dyed blond stripe staight up into a full-fledged mohawk. There was no mohawk in the picture I saw.
He LOVED it and was completely satisfied. Giddy. He scared his Auntie with it, and evoked envy from his cousin.
The next day, he went to school and when he got home that night I asked, "What did your friends think?" He said, "Some hated it. Some thought it was cool. But I don't care what anyone thinks. I like it." The following morning, he washed out the mohawk and straightened and styled it himself. It seemed to be something that made him grow up just a little more.
His own money. His own style. His own choice.
When I picked him up from work today, he said casually, "My supervisor told me that I have to dye my hair normal or find another job, so I gave my two weeks written notice."
I was quietly suprised. I'd honestly never considered that his employment would take issue with his hair over his performance. He didn't bat an eye and said he'd like to apply at the movie place down the road. He wasn't disappointed at all.
I, however, was. Not because he made the choice to give his notice, but because he had been judged on his hair. Forget that he is a pleasant kid who's never late; he now LOOKS like a trouble maker... He was told: CONFORM or you're fired.
I've warned my kids about this rule: Guilt by Association. The rule that says, people will judge you based on the way you look and the people you hang out with and the way you talk.
We all do it. I do it. I've done it. But it sure feels different when it hits you where it hurts. At home.
I'm suddenly selfish.
Do people think I am a bad parent?
Do they think I don't care?
Do they think he's using drugs?
Do they think he is a problem kid?
I see him as him.
I see past the hair.
I hope I am not blinded by mother love.
Am I missing something? What if everyone thinks he's a bad kid? What if they treat him poorly because of it? What if he wants to get a tattoo? What if he gets an eyebrow piercing? Or worse yet, snake bites! What if this decision leads to worse decisions...
What if this new blond stripe in his hair leads to drugs?
Get a grip Kim.
Writing like this... people will think I'M the one on drugs.
It's just hair.
on November 29, 2007, 3:11 pm
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