Eldest daughter (nearly 12) took a shower last evening, tearing herself away from a computer game youngest and she were playing. So sucked into this game was she that when she emerged from her shower, she threw on her pjs, negligently patted her sopping hair and seated herself once again next to her sister in front of the computer. This was happening while I futzed around in the kitchen, just off the study, preparing dinner. When the steaks were ready - barbequeing in sub-zero temps is BRACING - she came, set the table and proceeded to eat, having paid no attention to her nearly dried hair
When she got up this morning, she was aghast; her bangs were sticking straight up and no amount of pulling, brushing or her agitated wobble would coax her hair back to some semblance of not being ‘messed”.
“Would you like me to try to fix your bangs with a hairdryer?” I offered, and when she nodded, followed me in to my bathroom where I wet and then dried her bangs. Unfortunately, I tried speed and allowed her to move her head lower and lower and back away, which made the operation unsuccessful: one side of her bangs stubbornly refused to back down. She stormed downstairs and tried to find a tight hat to, at my suggestion, combat her obstreperous hair. Growing more and more shrill, she was starting to lose it and when I suggested trying again with a dryer, she stomped around the kitchen, slammed things and then snarled at me. I had a moment of clarity then and instead of taking her snarl personally, calmly repeated my offer. Nealy in tears, and I think grateful that I didn’t address her emotional wreckage, she nodded and I managed to get her hair under control. She left to school, I put the puppy into her crate, and jumped into the shower with hubby, where I vented and took lots of deep breaths.
When lovely daughter comes home this afternoon, she and I will sit down and talk about how best to keep emotions under check. It’s hard for her to understand that she’s the one in charge of her emotions and how breakdowns in communications occur when she flips. I have to keep sarcasm and anger in check and keep compassion - with boundaries and perhaps a hairdryer - on the forefront.
One morning, I was about 12 and home alone getting ready for school. My bangs would just not do ANYTHING. I thought I could trim them and it would help. Then a little more trimming, a little more, nearly there, then all of a sudden I looked up and there was a bald spot where my bangs used to be. Talk about drama. Oh dear Lord, the drama. I cried for weeks.
Tought me the lesson, though.
Good grief, have I been there too, Snob!!
I (must have also been 12) stopped trimming only when my bangs were at a ridiculous slant, starting just below my hairline. Thinking that cutting just a little more will “even it out” was a similarly ghastly learning experience! I tried pulling it to make it grow faster (hey, desperate!) remembering those dolls with all that hair crammed into their stupid plastic heads.
I remember one glorious instant of asking a sister to please trim my bangs. I helpfully had them pulled away from my face to aid in the cutting and well.. they wound up being about an inch and a half short. Waaaaaay before that I also decided that a pair of my mothers sewing scissors was a great pal to play with. I trimmed my bangs until they were stubs and hid under the blankets and sobbed. I must have been 8? Thanks for the memories.