Late last week, my nine year-old daughter went from this:
Locks of Love requires the ponytail be a minimum of ten inches long for donation. To be on the safe side, my daughter had eleven inches taken off.
I can’t say it was a decision made entirely out of altruism. She wanted to make a donation for quite some time, but whenever we measured what would be cut off, she chickened out because what would be left on her head would be too short. But, last week she decided the long hair was interfering with her martial arts. In the end, comfort trumped vanity. She had tried all manner of hair restraint techniques, but each ponytail, bun and braid had some unforgivable flaw–it flops in my face when I do this, mom (picture her doing some bizarre thing that nobody actually goes around doing), or—look, when I bend back like this, then see, it pokes me in the back of the neck and that hurts. So, when she committed to the decision to cut it off, we ran straight to the salon before she lost her nerve.
The end result is adorable. She looks a lot like that girl in Because of Winn Dixie now. She was thrilled with it, primping it and putting it in different barrettes and ribbons when we got home. We knew she’d get a reaction from people the next day, but we weren’t prepared for what kind of reaction she’d get.
I have succumbed to the fact that nothing I own belongs to just me. Even my personal sanctuary was tainted with kiddie cooties, when Dad had to put the kids in my special spa tub last night. He had no choice, as the other tubs were out of order, but that is another long and disgusting story. Grimy playground residue now decorates the non slip floor of my precious bath tub, because my husband forgot to rinse it out. Being that he took on the task of bathing all seven kids, it would have been down right bitchy to complain about the presence of spawn scum. After last night’s bath, it was quite evident that the separation of “Mom” and “Me,” is dangerously close to extinction. There is rapidly decreasing space for a “Me” in this house. As a result of last night, I’m currently trying to figure out how to install a secret spa tub in the back of the van. I tried to take measurements but the fossilized layer of fishy crackers and football equipment, kept me from being able to maneuver around. I may have to call in a professional. Once the tub installation is complete, I will be able to drive to an undisclosed location and take a relaxing soak, without fear of slipping on tear free shampoo slime and having an amputated Barbie leg inadvertently crammed up my ass…ouch!
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