Keeping Perspective

Yesterday was not the best of days for me.  After not getting much sleep the night before, and blearily greeting a Monday morning, me and my girls went about our usual daily routine of sorts:  Coffee for momma.  Listen to NPR news.  Breakfast for the girls.  Let the dog out.  Feed the dog.  Start laundry.  Clean up dishes.  Make the beds.  Read through emails and check Facebook notifications/respond.  And read the daily news.  The girls (usually) get dressed on their own and find interesting things to do in their playroom or library.  This is all before 9am.  Stay at home moms probably know this routine, all too well. 

On this particular morning, my 6 year old, Alanna decided to pull out her crayons, stickers and drawing pad.  Low and behold, she decided to use the scissors for some cutting (the scissors are in the same tin as the crayons for her easy access).  I am on the computer reading and doing my thing, because I know where my girls are and I know that they are safe.  I then hear a "puppy dog" barking as she ascends the stairs to come see me in my office.  Woof, woof, pant, pant.  The puppy dog is next to me, begging for some pats on the head.  I look down and see her.  Although there was less of her than I usually see this time.  Woof, woof, pant, pant, she goes.  I scream, "ALANNA LOUISE!!!!"  The puppy dog shrinks away from me and retreats to a safe corner away from mommy!  Alanna sullenly approaches.  "What did you do to your sister's hair?!"  No comment.  "Well?! WHY did you CUT Emmy's hair?!!!"  Alanna replies, "Emmy asked me to cut her hair because it was in her eyes." I said, "Go to your room!" 

I wish that I had reacted with more understanding.  I am not proud of how I handled the situation.  My screams and fist against the door only resulted in a sore, weak voice and a huge bruise on my wrist.  I had to distance myself for a while and cry.  Alanna cried and cried for over an hour, and Emmy hid under Alanna's bed.  I finally calmed down and calmly talked to Alanna and Emmy about what happened.  Alanna apologized and said she didn't think about Emmy's feelings.  Emmy was confused.  I held her for a long while and consoled her.  By lunchtime we were all a little better and there were actually smiles being spread around the house again.  After lunch, I retreated to garden therapy.  Pulling weeds is a great way to vent frustrations!!  

I called my husband at lunchtime and explained to him what had happened.  He wasn't happy.  I told him to please not overreact when he comes home and sees Emilia's hair cut, but to keep a smile on his face (however fake it might be).  I am happy to report that he did a good job of keeping positive comments and even said, "Looks like a nice summer cut!"  I, however, was in disarray for most of the day with weak smiles and solemn feelings.  At dinnertime, I asked my husband to prepare the girls' meal and our own, as I escaped to the bedroom to read in quiet solitude.  I just kept wishing that the day was over - from about 9am on.  All I wanted to do was re-do the day, or start a new one.  

Anyhow, today is a new day!  I shouldn't be crying over spilled milk, or cut hair.  I must realize that this is a lesson for all of us.  A lesson in tolerance, acceptance, and kindly understanding.  And with the help of social media, my friends have cheered me up since I shared what happened with them.  They were able to offer me stories of their own either from their childhood or of their own children doing something similar.  That really helped me to put this hair raising incident in perspective.  I appreciate their comments and supportive words more than they know.  I know it's only hair and it will grow again.  But there's just something so deeply entwined in the golden locks lost to my baby.  Three years of growth gone in a matter of minutes.  Her new cut is growing on me, though.  What do you think?  Do we have a future hair stylist in our midsts?