Hack Job

I have mentioned before that parenthood is a uniquely humbling experience. And now I've discovered another new way to experience humility. I am officially a mom that I've scorned in the past. I am "Mom Who Spends Inordinant Amounts of Time Worrying about Her Child's Haircut."

In my own defense, Meredith's first haircut was a shatteringly bad haircut. It was the kind that actually called for dramatic action. It would have been entirely appropriate for me to yank her out of the chair halfway through the cut and march out of the store refusing to pay. When I spoke to the "beautician" I specifically said, "Just a bob, please. But not a Hardy Boys haircut and please, not a bowl haircut." I walked out of there with my darling girl looking EXACTLY like a Hardy Boy, but her haircut wasn't as even as theirs. That night, I found several large sections of hair that were a solid inch longer than the rest of the cut.

So the next day, we got Meredith's second haircut. It's better. Not much. Still uneven in spots. Some of the Hardy Boy elements of the original haircut could not be reversed. Nothing to be done but wait. And try not to talk about it.

Because I'm a person to whom appearances don't matter. Right? Ah, humility. I'll say one other thing for the surprises of parenting. For virtually the first time in my life, I'm acting like a girly-girl about this whole thing. The hits just keep on coming.