Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sometimes things just don't go as planned, do they? Sometimes you have to put down whatever it is that you're working on, grab a pair of scissors, and hack off your daughters hair.
I don't know what it was exactly that triggered my madness, but on Friday, I couldn't stand to comb even one more strand of tangled blond hair. When Eleanore answered "YEAH!" to "do you want to get a haircut?", that was it- I grabbed the scissors and went for it. I pulled her hair into a purple pony holder, told her to hold real still, and jaggedly cut off 6 or more inches of her beautiful hair.
My heart sank to my feet when I was finished. I had been holding onto her gorgeous hair for so long now, as if it were a symbol of her baby years. When she was around 18 months old and her hair really started growing in, I would daydream about the day that it would grow long enough to pull into french braids. That day came and went, and I loved it. The longer her hair got, the longer I wanted it to get. It was gorgeous. Unfortunately, the longer it got, the thicker it got, the more tangled it got, the more she cried when I brushed it-