The little one got up early. I gave her a bowl of cereal and crawled back in bed. But I didn't sleep. So I read. It's not a very good book but I was so close to being done that I wanted to read. Ladybug came in a few times. Once to show me a tiny book she made. And I wondered how much glue was on the living room floor. She came up to give me a kiss. She came up to see if I would be willing to take her swimming.
And then she came up and stared at me. I asked what. And she presented her hand to me. And opened it slowly. Inside her little hand there were 3 beads -- 2 pink and a clear. Where did they come from?? Oh, I knew the answer. I was in denial. But I knew the answer. But I asked anyway. And she pulled one of her twists from the back of her head and presented me with a neatly snipped, beadless twist.
Did we not have this issue before. When she was three she snipped a piece of her hair. I told her if she wanted to have short hair I would cut it for her. But she couldn't cut it herself. Okay, actually, I threatened it. I told her if she did it I would cut off all her hair. And she cried. Because she didn't want to be a boy. But she didn't cut her hair again.
Now, a few weeks ago she cut the barbies' hair. But at least she didn't cut hers. Yesterday I noticed a little patch of short hair on her in the front. It was about 1/2 inch in length. I know her hair is prone to breakage but I have been careful. I would have noticed. So I asked. She played innocent. Rather convincingly actually. And she swore she didn't cut it. She said a kid at school did. I didn't believe her. But I was tired. I didn't want to parent at that moment. So I just let it go.
And that is how I got myself into the situation this morning. If I had freaked yesterday would she have cut her hair this morning? Would she? But I don't want to explode at her. I don't want her to feel my anger. So I ask her to go get the scissors. Calmly. And she does. And then I send her to her bed.
And I read. I was hoping that it would help me to calm down. She didn't help with that because every 30 seconds or so she would call out to me. I didn't answer. And then I hear her say, "Oh great! This is boring!" But I continue to read. Maybe it wasn't a good choice. Because my book is a spy thriller. Violence, suspense, killing. Not really the type of thing that will calm me down. But I finish the book.
Ladybug: 1 Mama: 0
I tell her to brush her teeth and get dressed and then sit on her bed. I shower, get dressed, and get on the computer. I need a hair place. I need a hair place that is open on a Sunday. I need a hair place that works on children. I need a hair place that works with African hair. I find 3, probably not so good, options. So throw her in the car and I drive to the first place. It is just about 1 mile from my house. I am so focused on not talking to her (not yelling at her) that I don't notice the giant hole in the entry way to the parking lot. But despite the fact that the website says that it is open on Sundays from 8am-5pm ---- it is locked up and closed.
Ladybug: 2 Mama: 0
So we get back in the car and drive again. And as I am heading in the direction of the next option, I realize that I don't really know where I am heading. Mapquest is helpful but only if you print off the directions. I didn't. Partly because I don't have a printer. Partly because my own anger made it so I was focused on getting her hair cut and not where. But as I drove around I found the street. Which is a dead end. No hair place in sight.
Ladybug: 3 Mama: 0
I have one more option. 1. Oh so this is why people like smartphones. So I head out to my last option. I know it is in a shopping plaza. I know which shopping plaza. I know where the shopping plaza is. Kind of. At first I can't find the plaza. After 15 minutes of searching -- and drving up and down streets I find the plaza. But then I can't find the actual salon. I drive around. And around. And then I realize that they have expanded the plaza. Back behind all the buildings that I thought was the back. So I drive back there and find it. And it is open.
Ladybug: 3 Mama: 1
I go in and ask the important question. Do they have anybody who has experience in working with African hair. An African American woman peeks around the corner. So I start taking the beads and twists out of her hair. I am almost done when it is finally our turn. She hates having her hair washed. Hates it! Always has. But she suffers through it without much trouble. And then the combing starts. And she is brutal. BRUTAL!!!! I mean, people say that I have a heavy hand it is no wonder that she screams at me. This woman had her screaming and crying and literally trying to jump out of her chair. And there is not one little thing about watching her in pain from this hair cut that makes me feel good. Not one little thing.
She finally finishes combing her out and asks how much to take off. And I am getting ready to chicken out. I had told Ladybug that it would all of her hair. I can't do that. I can't. So I tell her to take off 2 inches -- enough to notice.
Ladybug: 4 Mama: 1
And after all those beautiful curls are on the floor and I am trying not to cry, she begins to braid the hair. Large cornrows. Short cornrows. And Ladybug starts to cry and scream again. And I am sad. Because I already miss the hair. And she is crying.
Ladybug: 5 Mama: 1
And when the braids are done, I realize I don't really like it. I don't. I want it undone. I want her hair back.
Ladybug: 6 Mama: 1
And then the hairdresser puts it pretty barrettes and ribbons.
Ladybug: 7 Mama: 1
And then Ladybug looks at herself in the mirror and announces that she loves it.
Ladybug: 8 Mama: 1
As we are walking out the door Ladybug looks at me and asks if she can have a pet.
Ladybug: 9 Mama: 1
Any idea who won this war??
Mean Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment