Trauma Rama

(Deep Inhale. Exhale.) Okay, I think enough time has passed. I am ready to talk about January 28, 2008. The day of the hair disaster. Brace yourselves for this emotional journey.


This is a picture of my darling Chloe around the time of this disaster. Note the lovely hairstyle. And this is what happened on January 28th:



Ack! She cut her own hair!!!! Despite what had to be 5 million warnings from me to NEVER cut her own hair (or that of her sisters), she took it upon herself to whack off the locks that escaped her headband that day.


Where was I at the time? Nursing Sadie, of course. That's what I'm ALWAYS doing when the trouble starts. Piper was down for her nap and I thought Chloe was in the bedroom resting, too. Alas, all too late did I realize she was actually in the bathroom making "improvements" on her hair.


When she walked into the room that I was in, I saw hair all over her shirt. I ripped off the headband and the above picture is what I discovered. I screamed. I cried and laughed all at the same time. It was a horrifying, emotional moment.


I called my mom and then I sent around the pictures to trusted family members to see if they had any ideas on how to fix the disaster. My loving grandfather heard how upset I was and sent me a gift certificate to the swankiest salon in Salt Lake. Melanie the Miracle Worker salvaged what she could into what she called "a European bob." We've spent the last few months "making it work." Friends, family members, neighbors and church members consoled me with stories of their own (or their kids') self haircuts. Still, the hair trauma plagued me. But time heals all wounds (and bad haircuts).


This is how she looks today. I feel much better about it all now. I also feel better getting all this off my chest. And remember the next time you see a kid on the street or in the grocery store with an odd haircut, her mother probably had no other choice.