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!