Safety scissors can indeed cut hair

I like to believe that I don't take much in life too seriously. I try to find humor in everyday occurences. I like to laugh at the craziness created by life with two little ones. Let me emphasize ... I LIKE to do that. Just because I try to do this, well, it doesn't mean I am always successful.

See, there are some days the chaos of living in a house that I can never seem to keep clean drives me up a wall. There are some times when just looking at another load of laundry to fold and put away will put me over the edge. There are some days when the whining and fighting in the backseat of my car makes me yell, "STOP FIGHTING!" in a voice that is entirely humor-free.

Then, there is a day like today. A day, when I simply could not find an ounce of humor in the situation. When I called Cory sobbing so hard he was sure an ambulance was on its way to the house to pick up a critically injured child. I am sure, one day, far in the future, I will laugh about this. I'm sure, one day, this story will be told with hilarity around the dinner table. I'm sure, one day, this story will indeed be reflective of the title of this blog. Oh, but today is not that day.

Today, I discovered that turnaround is a bitch. Or something like that. Remember when Charlotte cried inconsolably at her first hair cut? Today, I was the one to turn on the waterworks.You see, today, my four and a half year old decided she wanted to play "haircut lady." I will pause to let you imagine how that sweet plan could have possibly backfired. Doesn't take much imagination to figure out how it all went wrong, huh?

It all started so innocently. I was busily cleaning up the chaos of Christmas, and the girls were quietly playing in Molly's room. I, naively, assumed they were playing Barbies or baby dolls. (They had received quite a few of those for Christmas, so I thought that was a safe assumption.) I'm vacuuming away when I hear Molly calling to me. She proudly paraded Charlotte to the top of the stairs. "Mommy, do you like Charlotte's hair? I did it." I glanced up and thought she had just been brushing it (It never occured to me that she would cut it!). I absentmindedly nodded and continued vacuuming.

A couple minutes later, I hear Molly calling to me again. I'd finished vacuuming, so I turn off the machine and wheel around to face my two precious daughters. Immediately, my eyes land on the right side of Charlotte's head, and what used to be her adorable little bob haircut. Only, now, her hair is laying in multiple different length chunks all along the side of her head.

"WHAT?!?!?!" I screamed. "Did you cut Charlotte's hair?" I question Molly.
"No."
"Did you cut Charlotte's hair?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me, Molly. Did you cut Charlotte's hair?"
"I cut Charlotte's hair."

At this point, I promptly burst into tears. Then, of course, Molly starts crying. She knows she's in trouble now. Charlotte, of course, is blissfully unaware of the tragedy that has befallen her head of hair. She is smiling and happily playing with Barbies and baby dolls.

The side view of the hatchet job.

And, front on.

It was right about then that I tried to call Cory and explain what had happened. Apparently, my blubbering wasn't exactly understandable because he thought I said Molly had cut Charlotte. He had images of bleeding and ambulances. Once he finally figured out I was talking about a hair cut, he was immensely relieved. And, not offering the sympathy needed in this moment of familial tragedy.


Ok, so I know I'm probably overreacting. I know it's just hair and it will grow back. I know I will look back at this and laugh. I logically know all of this. But, looking at my baby's mangled head of hair, it's just hard to remember what I know.

Evidence of the crime in Molly's room.

More hair found on the floor.

Without any delay (well, once I stopped sobbing), I called our local kids' salon. Fortunately, they had an opening in less than three hours. "We'll take it."

Trying to fix the damage.

Once there, we also discovered something else quite fortunate. See, Cory had done Charlotte's hair this morning after her bath. And, he had parted it on the wrong side. So, even though Molly cut all the chunks off the right side of Charlotte's head, we were able to part the hair on the correct side and flip it over to try to hide all the unevenness. Also, it appears Charlotte is over her phobia of hair cuts. She patiently (and quietly) sat through both Molly's hair cut and the follow-up fixer hair cut. Why oh why couldn't you have screamed when Molly came at you with scissors like you did when I took you to get your first hair cut?!?!  I guess I should be thankful for the little blessings? I'm trying.

Side view of the after.

Another side view.

And, the front view. She was happy, at least.

I can definitely still see the uneven chunks, but it is disguised much better than this morning. It's gotta be better if I don't feel like weeping every time I look at her hair, right?

So, in conclusion, here are a few lessons learned from this experience:

5. Some days it pays for your husband to do your child's hair all wrong.
4. Big sisters should not be trusted alone with their little sisters when it is too quiet.
3. Safety scissors may not cut skin, but they will most certainly cut hair.
2. I need to find a good place to find a lot of cute toddler hats. Any ideas?
1. I will laugh at this someday. I promise I will. But, today? Today, I bawled like a little baby.