As I was sitting down to write my little blog, all about a subject of earth-shattering importance (and sure to be the best one yet), I made a mistake.
A rookie mistake, we call it in the Mothering business.
I checked on my daughter.
Everyone knows that if you’re trying to accomplish something, you don’t check on a child that is quietly playing in their room. Whatever horrible thing they are most certainly doing is in all likelihood not life-threatening but will definitely derail whatever track you are on to accomplishing your task.
Yes, a rookie mistake.
I noticed the eerie silence as soon as I sat down to type, and against my better judgement got up to investigate. My four year old was, oddly enough, sitting still and watching a movie, but my nine year old… Well, my nine year old was up to something.
The second I poked my head in her door, I noticed something was amiss. She instantly hunched over as close to the ground as she could get.
Now, I’m not saying that I’m a freaking bloodhound when it comes to finding out what my kids are up to, but… Well, actually I am. I will catch the scent of some mischief from a mile away and follow the trail all the way back to where one of my children has inexplicably emptied an entire new bottle of shampoo into the tub. That’s how good I am. I’m like the Columbo of trouble except I work faster and both my eyes look the same direction.
“Sit up a second, Sunny.” “Why?” “Um, Sunny, you need to sit up right now.” “I don’t want to.” “Sunny. Sit. Up. Now.”
I knew it. I KNEW IT!!! The second she sat up, I realized that she had hacked off half of her hair. Half of her beautiful, blonde, halfway down her back, thick, glorious hair.
The hair that we had been growing out for about three years, since the last time she decided to do some self-barbering.
I’m not ashamed to say it, I instantly burst into tears. Okay, actually I am sort of ashamed.
She looks insane. Literally. She looks like one of those crazy ladies with psycho hair that is sitting in front of the mirror putting lipstick all over their face and saying, “pretty, pretty!”
Like this lady.
Anybody who knows me knows that hair is a big deal to me. Not my own hair, I could give a crap about my own hair, but my kid’s hair. I braid it or fix it up cute every single day. I love playing with it and making it fancy and were it left up to me, both of them would have hair down to their waist.
I cried off and on about it for an hour. I’m sort of okay now. Sort of. Thank God I was able to get her in for an emergency haircut tonight… Though honestly, I’m not sure there’s any hope. Is bald the “in” thing this season? For her sake, I certainly hope so.
There is a pile of beautiful, shiny, golden hair sitting on my counter right now that I don’t want to throw away. Can they just re-attach it??? Okay, that’s ridiculous. I just can’t believe this, seriously. I’m going through the first stage of grief, I guess… Denial.
Of course, my first question after “the incident” was “WHY???” Just why??? I mean, seriously, why??? Why would you do that??? Why??? I just. I don’t. I just wanna know why.
There was no answer.
But there never really is, is there?
In my career as a Mom, spanning lo these 9 1/2 years, that is the one lesson I’ve learned.
All the random cutting of window screens, making potions out of my brand new Moroccan hair oil, writing on the wall… There is no answer to the universal “WHY???” There is no, “Mom, I wrote on the wall because I was seeking negative attention.” There is only, “I dunno.” Seriously??? You don’t know??? “I dunno.”
And that, my friends, is why I shall most likely remain perched on the brink of insanity for my daughter’s entire childhood.
We got her hair fixed this evening, but she looks a bit… How do I put this delicately? Well, she kinda looks like Joe Dirt. I don’t know what to do about it, her hair is so short I can’t even braid the front to make it cute… I guess I’m going to have to just breathe, let it go, and make a point of telling everyone I see or meet in the first sentence, “She did this to herself ya know!!!”
Yeah, that’s normal.
I hope you have a wonderful week my friends, and may the kitchen shears of this life never touch the golden hairs of your sanity!!!