Today I tried to try. Although I feel stuck in a shell of misery at being stuck in freezing cold, snowy Michigan while Dan plods off to work like every other week of the year and (even though it’s totally not true and just feels like) everyone else is on their Caribbean cruise for spring break, I am making an effort to make the week special for the kids.
Today I printed off Easter egg coloring pages and made a basket out of an old shirt box. I taped the basket on the wall and invited my kids to cut out and tape up their decorated eggs.
Which was working great until Addison decided to draw an egg on the wall and color it there with brown marker (TYL that they were washable).
OK, so my great plan was starting to go a little off course. To try to redeem it, I got the great idea to draw, decorate, and cut out the characters and setting of the Easter story.
I used a brown paper bag to make a big cross. Liam drew a donkey, Jesus, and a guard. Elli was drawing an angel with a halo while I was working on cutting out a tomb (how ironic, huh?). All of a sudden I realized it was silent in the room. Silence is not golden in my house. It is indicative of severe disobedience or maleficence afoot.
I looked up and spotted Elli wielding scissors, a guilty look on her face, and a mullet-esque haircut.
I jumped out of my seat like it was charged with 1,000 volts of electricity. Liam said, “what did she do?” as I dropped to the floor to confirm my suspicions.
I screamed, “she cut her hair!”, then got my voice under control and at a rational decibel level firmly told Elli to put down the scissors (immediately!) and proceed to her room (“for your own safety, because mommy is very upset that you would do this AGAIN”).
Then, I sat down, looked at the brown paper bag cross hanging directly above me on the wall and breathed.
I’m waving the white flag. I give up. You have beaten me. I cannot do this alone. (Cue music: Jesus Take the Wheel)
I didn’t want to commit or have to confess a sin. I needed some space to work through the disappointment (mainly in myself that I somehow didn’t see my daughter cutting her own hair as she literally sat across the table from me) and figure out how not to lecture, guilt, yell, or do anything to make the situation any worse.
A whimpering Elli came out a few minutes later and said, “I’m sorry mommy, for cutting my hair.” To which I replied, “I’m sorry too because I know how you’ve been trying to grow it long and now we’re going to have to cut it short and start over again.”
After finishing our Easter decorations and scenery, we cleaned up snipped bits of paper and hair and proceeded with a bath and the haircut.
E. J. handled it well despite the fact that it will probably be a good year before we can do braids (poor thing, her hair grows SO slowly) in her hair again. The next time we wash her hair I’ll need to clean it up a bit. Her hair is so fine it is very hard to cut.
Not to mention she can’t sit still, my scissors are practically safety scissors they are so dull, and I have no training in hair-cutting besides the dinky DVD from 1989 that came with the hair clipper set.
As of this writing, I have eaten a 6 x 6 inch Butterfinger brownie, the sun is starting to come out, the neighbors brought over the newspaper (coupons, comics, grocery ads–oh happy day!), the mail just got delivered and the kids are having some nap/quiet time in their rooms. I’m in the home stretch for day 1 of spring break/leading up to Easter weekend.
It’s getting brighter…