This is my beautiful Ella and her BEAUTIFUL hair. She is almost four and we have discussed who is allowed to cut her hair since she was two.
It was such a simple understanding. We dialoged this exact conversation at least once a week for the last year and a half. I thought we had it down. Ella was so proud of her hair, almost vain really. I would have to coach her on being humble because she got so many complements on how long and pretty her hair...WAS. She came home from my aunt's house and my mom sheepishly told me that Ella had cut her hair. My stomach dropped and I think I even vomited in my mouth a little. She didn't just cut it a little. She took scissors and lopped off a large chunk of hair from each side of her head. When I composed myself enough to ask her "why did you cut your hair" in a normal voice, not scream it at her like a banshee, she replied simply, "it was bugging me" and when she saw that my eyes were twitching like one of those cartoons whose heads where about to explode, she said, "don't worry mommy, I'll fix it tomorrow." 
As the days went on, my daughter, who was sporting quite a mullet, realized that a lot of tomorrows would have to pass before she got her hair back. I wanted to cry every time I looked at her. I would like to say that this is an over exaggeration but seeing her truly caused an ache in my heart. I decided that it was time to take her to the beauty salon to see if they could make something out of the "weed wacker got to my head" look. As you can see, Ella was not happy about having to get her hair. She kept saying, "I want long hair like a princess, not short hair like a brother". 
The stylist and I told her how adorable she looked and that this would be a great hair cut until her hair grew out and after a while she kind of liked her new do. WE LIED. It still looks like a weed wacker went crazy on her head, but whatcha gonna do? I want her to feel pretty even though my heart still catches in my throat when I do her hair in the morning. The moral of the story is to explain to your child that if they cut their hair it will take as long as they've been alive to grow back.
Me: Ella, who is allowed to cut your hair?
Her: Mommy and Monica.
Me: Do you cut your hair?
Ella: No mommy.
Me: Do your friends cut your hair?
Ella: No mommy.
It was such a simple understanding. We dialoged this exact conversation at least once a week for the last year and a half. I thought we had it down. Ella was so proud of her hair, almost vain really. I would have to coach her on being humble because she got so many complements on how long and pretty her hair...WAS. She came home from my aunt's house and my mom sheepishly told me that Ella had cut her hair. My stomach dropped and I think I even vomited in my mouth a little. She didn't just cut it a little. She took scissors and lopped off a large chunk of hair from each side of her head. When I composed myself enough to ask her "why did you cut your hair" in a normal voice, not scream it at her like a banshee, she replied simply, "it was bugging me" and when she saw that my eyes were twitching like one of those cartoons whose heads where about to explode, she said, "don't worry mommy, I'll fix it tomorrow." 
As the days went on, my daughter, who was sporting quite a mullet, realized that a lot of tomorrows would have to pass before she got her hair back. I wanted to cry every time I looked at her. I would like to say that this is an over exaggeration but seeing her truly caused an ache in my heart. I decided that it was time to take her to the beauty salon to see if they could make something out of the "weed wacker got to my head" look. As you can see, Ella was not happy about having to get her hair. She kept saying, "I want long hair like a princess, not short hair like a brother". 
The stylist and I told her how adorable she looked and that this would be a great hair cut until her hair grew out and after a while she kind of liked her new do. WE LIED. It still looks like a weed wacker went crazy on her head, but whatcha gonna do? I want her to feel pretty even though my heart still catches in my throat when I do her hair in the morning. The moral of the story is to explain to your child that if they cut their hair it will take as long as they've been alive to grow back. This is Ella's current hair style.
And for good measure, tell them that if they EVER cut their hair, you will make them scalp every Barbie, every My Little Pony, every baby doll in your home. That is the threat in our house. I don't really think I need one, looking in the mirror is punishment enough, but it is there just in case her cutting fingers ever get itchy again (I am so glad that Ella can't read at this moment!). By the way, I find myself so traumatized that I accost perfect strangers and warn them to talk to their daughters about not cutting their hair. A women was shopping next to me at Target the other day with her daughter who had the most lovely long blonde locks and I grabbed her arm (literally) and told her, "please, tell your daughter not to cut her hair!!". She whipped around to her daughter looking, I'm sure, for scissors getting ready to snip years of growth away, the way a mother would whip around if a fellow shopper grabbed her arm and said, "your child is about to fall out of the cart!!". When she saw the her child was benignly sitting in the cart she kind said, "um, okay" and walked away from the crazy lady with the bugged out cartoon eyes.
1 comment:
Oh, Jenn and I BOTH know there was a bit more than a "threat" to scalp every toy she had that had even a speck of hair...
Jenn must have been able to calm you down a bit.
Ella is still a cute little girl, but those long locks WERE amazing. Not to rub salt on the open wound, but I have to be an honest friend!
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