The Day the Cat got a Hair Cut

There are some moments in motherhood that stand out to me more than others. For all the sweet, and heartwarming moments, there have been a small, but strong, share of times when I was embarrassed out of my mind. Or left feeling like an epic failure.

One such memory was this past spring. Emma was reaching the end of her ability to enjoy an afternoon nap, but I was desperate to keep her rest time going, so I could get stuff done. I had laid her down, put books in her bed in case she just wanted to read, and left a sippy cup of water with her if she became thirsty. All conditions were favorable, and she had her head on her pillow when I quietly left her room. Olivia was occupied with a reading show, so I told her I'd be doing some quick gardening. I wasn't back there for more than 15 minutes when I heard the voices of strangers coming from under my porch.

I dashed up front to find a middle aged woman, and a grandfatherly looking man escorting my shirtless Emma up to our backdoor. I must've been in shock, because I didn't know what to say. I snatched Emma up, and stood there as they told me she must've climbed our closed and locked gate, because they were driving by and found her standing by our busy road. THE HORROR!!! They were very sympathetic, and tried to explain their respective kids had done crazy things, too. Their attempt to make me feel better was like putting a thin Hello Kitty bandaid on a gushing artery. When they left, I sat with Emma, clutched in my arms and bawled. Every possible bad thing that could have happened went through my mind. I felt like the worst Mom in the world. It all happened in a flash, and I was shaken to my core, reminded that I can do my very best for my kids, and it may still not be enough. God is entirely in control, and my illusion of having everything in hand is simply that...an illusion.

Last week, a sweet friend of mine with a new camera and lens, asked if she could get some more practice and take pictures of our girls. We arranged a time, I found some props and got the girls dressed up in match-matchy outfits. I even did Olivia's hair, which is kind of a big deal, because she HATES having her hair brushed. The pictures were taken, and my Mom-heart swelled with pride upon seeing how my friend captured our kiddos. See for yourself....they're adorable!!!

I love this one, too. Especially since you can see Olivia's pretty hair, which is daily battle as it nightly attempts to become a dread in the back.

Ahh, our pride and joy! What a gift to have some great photo of the girls! We shared some of these online, and many of you exploded our feed with kind comments about our offspring. We felt proud. Whether it's right or not, parents always get a great feeling when their kids make them look good.

But that was last week. The end.

While we were still riding on the high of "We love these pictures! We have the most precious girls! Look how adorable they are!", yesterday came. We had finished school, and I'd sent the girls to go play in the sunroom while I cleaned and prepared lunch. I had just finished the dishes when I realized how quiet it was. Too quiet.

I took steps in their direction when I heard the cat protest from the sunroom. With my eyes toward the cat, with alarm, I noticed great chunks of black fur surrounding poor kitty on the indoor-outdoor carpet.

I raised my voice to ask "What is going on?!", but my voice fell as my eyes lifted. Before me were two ragged looking children, one holding scissors in her hand. I quickly saw that the cat had been the lucky one. In disbelief, I surveyed the damage.

My poor, fair-haired Emma, who formerly had a cute shoulder length cut, was now sporting a blunted-choppy pixie.

Olivia, the culprit with the scissors, tried to explain "We were playing pretend beauty shop....(with REAL scissors)". She saw me start to cry, and all of a sudden, beauty shop had lost it's fun. The work on her own hair revealed that she had gone to serious lengths to shape her once beautiful tresses into a dramatic mullet. She was clueless as to how she looked, or the consequences she had just poured on her head. Seeing that she was unaware of the gravity of her actions, and to lighten the moment for myself, I lined her up and took a few mugshots for the family photo book.

I made a call to Andrew. I never call him at work unless something is urgent, so he picked up, knowing something was wrong. Through tears I told him how Olivia had gone all Edward Scissor-hands, with scissors (that had escaped my lock and key), and I had no clue what to do, or how to begin to salvage what was left of their hair. I sent him pictures while we were on the phone, and he laughed so hard that I started laughing, too. It was a futile situation, so there was little to do but laugh. Side note: Andrew is my favorite and has such a way of bringing the right perspective and humor to a situation.

We mulled for half a second about a consequence, but soon saw that leading Olivia to a mirror was devastating enough. Her eyes welled with tears when she cried "I look like a BOY!!!". She agonized further when I told her, "No sweetie, we can't tape it back on". She began making loud declarations of NEVER-EVER leaving the house, or EVER seeing her friends EVER again, since she looked like a BOY! While she was moving out of denial and into anger, I made a desperate call to my friend Brooke. Brooke cuts hair and providentially was off at the time. She must've heard the panic in my voice, because she reassured me that she'd come right away.

All I can say is that good and skilled friends are INVALUABLE in this kind of situation!

Brooke did her best not to be horrified at what she saw, and made an excellent recovery of Olivia's handiwork. As for me, I was reminded that I can do my best as a Mom, teach them well, put good food in their bellies, and "stuff" is still going to happen. I talked to my Dad later in the day (who also got side splitting chuckles out of the pictures) and he brought it all home for me. He said to tell the girls that no matter what their hair looks like, that he thinks they are still beautiful. He also encouraged me: "Jenna, you are a great Mom! Please remember that this is not a reflection on your parenting." Those words were gold.

I can do my very best for the girls, but they are still children, and life happens. Mistakes happen. Sometimes they embarrass me. Poop happens. They will try to escape. And from what I hear from other girl moms, playing "beauty shop" is inevitable. What I can do is try not to take it personally. I love my kids no matter what they do or look like. Some of their actions work toward my sanctification more than others, but I'm learning that sometimes, the best response is just to laugh.

The AFTER photos:

Emma is obviously devastated.

Olivia's first words upon seeing her recovered hair: "MOMMY! How did Brooke make me look like a girl again?! She must have magic!"

P.S. Thanks to Lori for capturing some beautiful photos BEFORE the hair drama. To Brooke, for rescuing me in my hour of need! And to Andrew and the rest of my family, for helping me laugh. Y'all are the best!

The Kitchen Window

Our kitchen window is one of the few east-facing windows in our home. It's a comforting sight when the first glimmers of daylight brighten the the room while I'm making our morning coffee. This window has been a favorite spot of my succulent plants, as well as a lesser favorite of mine...house flies. With little people always coming and going, we had our share of flies sneak in. Once they enter, they seem to head straight for that window. It's brilliantly lit, and appears to lead to freedom, but is really where they meet their end. I keep a fly swatter just below the sink, and when flies are in abundance, I go to work. Andrew upped my game with one of those electric tennis racket fly swatters. The zap is so satisfying, but I seem to best reduce the headcount when they were cornered in the window.

I don't really need to tell you where this is going, but I'll draw it out for the sake of analogy. A week or so into fly swatting, I noticed the window getting a little grimy. My zeal for killing flies left me approximately ZERO grace in my touch, and made for some messy spots on the window. The warm weather has kept the flies healthy and steadily streaming in every time the girls go out to play. I have kept the swatter handy, and refuse to clean the window because I'll just be back cleaning it again tomorrow.

I'm embarrassed to say that this pattern of swatting-not-scrubbing went on for several weeks. If any of you are familiar with the term "house blind", then you'll understand that I had a bad case of it. Sometimes there are just too many day-to-day things that need your attention over noticing other projects, so some things often are left unpainted, unfixed, or generally uncleaned. That was guilty-guilty me to-a-T, where that window was concerned.

That is until yesterday. Company was coming and I gave a good hard look at that window. I was horrified. Those seemingly small, clear fly guts added up over time, and what I beheld was a massacre. I was so disgusted that I even checked my calendar to guesstimate how long it'd been since the window had fallen into such filth. How many dear friends had come and gone and seen that disgusting sight?! I was sickened.

I immediately whipped out the cleaner and did what I should have done ages ago. A few minutes of scrubbing later (because you know, eww, hard-dried fly guts), and suddenly, my view of the backyard became brighter! The sun shone in with greater resiliency, the grass in the backyard even appeared greener, and to top it off, the kitchen seemed cleaner! It was amazing! Such a small change made a drastic difference.

A peek through the window the following day felt shocking as I realized the contrast from what I'd grown accustom to seeing. Why had I lived with it like that for so long?! There were beautiful things to behold outside, but I had gotten so used to seeing them through a film of fly guts. That lens became the norm, and I didn't realize how bad it was, or what I was missing.

As I pondered this, I began to imagine how this is like our spiritual lives. How long do we let one little sin mar our vision? We use an "acceptable" variation of taking the Lord's name in vain, aren't faithful to correct the kids when they are doing something they shouldn't, or any number of seemingly harmless things. We buy into the lie that 1 + 1 doesn't = 2. But it always does, no matter how you figure it. We say: "It's no big deal", or "I can deal with that later", but we don't. As I've found with math and fly guts...they always add up.

Before we know it, we've let loads of little pests in, and we get used to how things appear. In our messy attempt to deal with the situation, we have created a disaster. We've forgotten how things should look, and swapped reality with a view through a grimy film. For believers, I pray that if we aren't faithful to deal with killing little sins when they're small, that we would be awakened to the dirt on our glasses, and get to work through repentance, and turning away from whatever may be hindering our vision.

Let's be thankful for the Lord's prompting our hearts when it's time to move on, change, or just clean up. And also be grateful for the ones who are faithful to lovingly point out any habits of sin in our lives. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but many are the kisses of an enemy." - Proverbs 27:6 Just like windex does wonders for a dirty window, confessing and turning from unkindness, laziness, or _________ (fill-in-the-blank), does wonders to clear our vision for how the Lord wants us to live.

Are you looking through a dirty window? Has a little time with a certain sin created a sub-par film that's hindering your vision of the Son? If so, I pray He moves you to get to work and do some scrubbing. Sometimes it takes no time at all, compared to the beauty and clarity that await you.

P.S. To the flies that are persistently invading my kitchen window...I've had enough. I'm waiting, fly swatter in hand. Followed immediately by windex.