Memorial Day. A day that seemed like it would be a day for relaxing, playing, and recovering from a hectic weekend of travel and family. The morning started off well. My daughter and I were looking online for some birthday party decorations as she confirmed her choice of PJ Masks theme. Then…she disappeared to her playroom.
Initially, I thought nothing of it. My husband asked where she went and I said she’s back in the playroom. Figuring she was messing with finger paints or whatever. Oh how wrong I was.
A few moments later, my daughter emerged and came up to me, my eyes on my laptop screen. She asks “Mom, do you like my hair?” I looked over and my initial reaction was “Oh my God!”, most likely paired with a look of shock and horror. Thinking I must have seen something (else) horrifying, my daughter screams “What! What!”, starts to panic and cry, looking around for the source of my reaction. She scrambles up my lap as though whatever (else) must have warranted such an outcry would be on the ground or somewhere around. Nope, it was right there, on my lap.
My husband rushed into the room thinking something horrible had happened, like our child hurting herself. He, also, was unprepared for the site of our daughter and her hair handiwork. If anyone has ever seen, or is familiar with the movie character Joe Dirt, then you’ve got a good idea of what we saw that fateful morning, minus the lambchops. She couldn’t get those craft scissors to the back of her hair, but she took some liberties with the front.
Hair was everywhere, except on the front part of her head. Once I got her calmed down, she and I rushed to a children’s haircut place close by. Closed. I went to another and as I was walking up with little Joe Dirt, the lady was about to lock the door to close. I explained my daughter had cut her own hair and while they seemed to be closing could they please (please, please, please, please) just quickly even things out? The lady took one look at little Joe Dirt and let us in, locking the door behind us. Turns out, she is a grandmother and also, in my opinion, a wonderfully compassionate person that prevented my daughter from having a mullet all Memorial Day. She was able to even it out and, for the most part, her hair looked pretty passable. It was impressive to say the least.
Once the hair fiasco was resolved, we went on to have a lovely rest of the holiday. The whole situation was truly (while much funnier in hindsight and retelling) a reminder to take things in stride. After getting over the initial “what the hell???”, the reality is that it is only hair. I realize there are so many things kind of like this in life, both as a mom and as a working mom. You’ve got to just get past the “what the hell??” take a deep breath, and deal with the situation, then move on. If you can do that, you not only can preserve your sanity, but you may also not wreck a day being frustrated and drained. Besides, it isn’t me that has to spend the summer with, shall we say, a more “artistic” haircut, now is it? Take it all in stride.