Snip, Snop, Chop!

There was much sadness and sighing throughout the day today. We had to say goodbye to a LOT of really beautiful blonde hair. It was a sad farewell.

Last night as I went to check on how the girls were doing at cleaning their room, I decided to assist them in just picking up their clothes. As I picked up the shirt Lilie had been wearing earlier in the day, I noticed it was covered with hair . . . what the??!! I lifted my eyes to see a pair of my scissors sitting on the dresser. 

"What happened here? Lilie, did you cut your hair?!" 

She promptly replied that she didn't.-------Hazel did. 

"Lilie asked me to!" Hazel defended. 

The rest of the conversation is not terribly important. Just know that it involved some yelling, crying, and spanking (Sad but true. Sometimes I'm a bad mom.) and Hazel claiming that she didn't know she shouldn't cut Lilie's hair (not true - as it has been a topic of conversation since she was two -- and was again reiterated two months ago when Lilie took a somewhat inconspicuous chunk out of her locks) and Lilie claiming that her hair just kept getting in her eyes. It wasn't a very happy conversation 

.

.

.

until I finally stepped back, looked at my two sad girls --- Lilie with three pajama tops on and six pairs of bottoms (she said her legs were cold), with no bangs and some interesting layering throughout her hair --- and started finally laughing. It was sad and ridiculous.

Arrows indicating just a FEW of the chop spots.

Do you see a difference here in the length!!??

What I later found hiding under the bed.

These pictures are BEFORE the gal ever started cutting.

Once again, SLIGHT difference in the thickness here, no?

Can you believe the length of her bangs!? And the two inch long pieces on top - and all around in various places? Sadness.

What to do?

It's a pretty darn good thing that she's so stinking cute.

Lilie's biggest regret is that I wasn't sure if we'd still be able to do "curly, curlies" as she calls them. :) Thankfully, flat irons are grand inventions that can even curl very short hair.

Aren't the headband and curls cute? I like it much better than straight.

As I said, she's so lucky she's cute!

Now, I don't know if any of you have noticed a theme to my Lilie over the past year or so of blogging, but I have. Often my posts about Lilie are "What the . . .!?" kind of moments. There's been a lot of marker and lipstick, lots of hysteria and crying. But you know what, inside that mad mom, there is a little girl that secretly understands this occasionally manic, destructive, sneaky child of mine. I'm sure many of you see glimpses of yourself in your children. It's the curse that all mothers put on their children. In each of them, I can see a bit of myself -- sometimes it's positive things, sometimes it's . . . not. With so many of the frustrating things they do, as irritating as it is, there is a part of me that understands it, that sympathizes.

Well. There is a reason why "don't ever cut your hair" has been a topic in our home since my children were old enough to . . . climb to where they could get scissors. Today was inevitable. I knew it was coming. I've known it since the moment I became a mother. I have tried to change fate. To avoid the unavoidable. 

There once was a mother who found her daughter --- like this . . .

Feb. 1985 - Unfortunately for my dear mother, 

the "Inside-out Mohawk" was not really in style in the mid-80's.

And each and every time I find a catastrophe that Lilie has created? I flash back to this moment in my history . . . 

Yes, my dear readers. That is oil paint and vaseline. 

I don't have a lot of clear memories from my childhood. Most are somewhat vague. But I tell you what, I can still close my eyes and remember standing at that sink, happy as a lark, and hearing my mother knock on the locked door and ask what I was doing. I can vividly remember the feelings of fear and dread that coursed through my little body as they unlocked the door and found me with my experiment. Isn't it a lovely picture? Still sporting my brand new do?

Yep. There's a part of me that understands my poor little daughter.