Out With a Bang

They, whoever "they"are, say you should pick your battles. Don't waste too much energy and time on unimportant things. Pick the ones that are and then go kick some but getting the results you want.

When it came to Ms hair there was no battle to fight once we got rid of what I'm sure you've all heard me refer to as the Mulhawk. It was easy enough, the bad hair days were finally over and now it was time to grow it out. All of it, bangs and all.

At about five months I caved. She didn't keep the clips in and the hair was constantly falling into her eyes. It couldn't be comfortable and I cut it. It was her first haircut. We went to Jack & Jill's, a salon specializing in children's cuts. We got a little card marking the occasion to which a little lock of her hair was attached. A scrapbook moment brought on by a little bump in the road leading to one-length bliss.

I had big ideas: as soon as the bangs grew to chin length we'd make another appointment and cut it all into an adorable, well, chin-length bob. It wouldn't be long (time wise).

Two months later, it was long (lengthwise) again. At least the bangs were. She still wanted no part of the clips and her beautiful brown eyes were being obstructed by the beautiful brown hair. I took matters into my own hands, literally, and cut them myself. I wrote a traumatic post on this unfortunate event back when it happened so I won't bore anyone with the details. That the hair was uneven is all you need to know.

Since then I've tried everything to avoid another visit to the stylist: Small clips, large clips, headbands, even the itty-bitty rubber bands I said I would never use in fear that she'd look more like a Flinstone than a Koong. She even pulls those out, hair and all. Clips can be found everywhere in the house; and in both of our cars; and in her stroller; my purse; and in the pockets of my pants, shirts, and jackets.

Now it's a battle! And she knows it. I swear I've noticed a smirk on her face when she's yanking out whatever the hair accessory of the day is.

So I'm done. She wins. She picked her battle and kicked some butt. Mine. There will be other battles more important than this one that I'll have to tackle in the future. This is one I'm no longer willing to fight. She'll win the battle, but I, hopefully, will win the war.

Feeling defeated from all the time spent in the combat zone and with my mom at my side, I drove her to Jack & Jill's once again, paid my 10 bucks (they gave us a discount because she cut so little), and no more than 15 minutes later walked out.....with a BANG!

(only somebody this cute can pull off hair that looks like this)