Deep, Cleansing Breaths

After well over a year of working hard to avoid it, I had to give in and take the preschooler to get her hair cut.

It was a painful experience. I thought I was ready for this, and if all had gone well I might have been okay. I wanted to tie her hair into a ponytail and cut it off. It took almost a year before she got any hair, but when it finally came in it was the beautiful curling golden stuff, soft as down. I wanted to save those first curls.

The stylist never gave me a chance, though. She just started cutting and tossing the cut bits on the floor. I wound up scavenging on the floor as she was cutting, in order to retrieve some of what she cut.

I was heartbroken. Gone was the one little section that always curled into a ringlet, gone were the lightest bits on the very tips. My baby was gone and I didn't have anything left of her.

The haircut is beautiful on her. Shoulder-length with a little bit of a bang in front. She looks so pretty. But she is all little girl now and I get weepy whenever I think of it.

I was crying on the way home, and the preschooler got very concerned about me.

"Are you sad, Mommy?"

I tried to explain, but of course she didn't understand. She fell back on some advice I've given her in the past when she was especially upset.

"Take a deep breath, Mommy, take a deep breath."

Yes, dear. Mommy is trying to remember to do just that.