Sunday, April 16, 2017

The Haircut


My vanity took a hit this week. I knew Abby's hair needed to be cut off, but my "Beautiful Blondie" (Uncle Ben's term of endearment for his girl) had the most beautiful locks I'd ever seen. It had become a total mess most days because she was literally pulling it out of her head. We tried to trim it up in case she was pulling because it was heavy, but it seems that she may simply like the feel of pulling it.


I've seriously been disturbed all week. I couldn't even post a single picture of it on Facebook. I was a little embarrassed because it seems trivial in the scheme of life because in and of itself, it totally is. With all the major life things that she deals with, it's really no big deal. Besides, she could care less. She was even a rock star getting it cut!

Abby and her sweet stylist 

Sometimes we need to refrain from making a big deal out of everything.
Sometimes it's okay to realize the little things are bigger and more important than we think. 

Don't get me wrong, a haircut isn't a big thing.

Abby's hair represented more to me than just her lovely locks. It was one of the only things about her that was "normal". It wasn't just typical but it was enviable. Her thick, naturally perfect shade of blonde, hair was lovely.

Still girly... not a fella :)

I like to fix hair. Some of you may doubt this if you haven't been aboard our ship for very long, but before she pulled everything out it was often braided with cute hair clips and fun bows. 

I also have convinced myself  her well kept hair reflected a well cared for child. I used to be so critical of parents whose kids were a mess.
I'm not anymore. ( If I could go back and apologize to all the parents I judged so harshly when I was a teacher... UGH!)
I too am just glad when we all make it to church without a complete breakdown from anyone (especially me). I choose to let the "cool points" drip off when my kids hair is a mess, completely undone or they made a last minute shoe change to rain boots and sneak out of the house before I intervene. I'm still pretty adept at convincing myself I have points to spare. 

Abby doesn't feel if her clothes are twisted or her pants have fallen to her knees (it seriously happens). She doesn't care if she's dropped food or if she's drooling down her front. She will walk around in a wet or even a dirty diaper without skipping a beat. She thinks nothing of smearing diaper contents and smelling like a trash can no matter how long I soak her in the bath to remove the odor. She eats trash if it's left out or rocks if they're within reach.
It's Abby... It's okay

Dad declared she has the best hair ever!

I adore this crazy girl. From the way she looks at me to the way she pulls me to her room to cuddle. She lights up my world!

I walked through the mall with her yesterday in an attempt to buy her new clothes because she's grown out of hers and she's so hard to dress these days. I bought her some new jeans a couple weeks ago, but after three separate trips to the mall for exchanges I knew she needed to start trying things on before I purchased... YIKES! 

It wasn't easy, but a good reminder how much Abby affects people. No one really would've noticed me if she had not been there. She's like a neon sign blinking "LOOK AT ME" wherever we go. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to because I see the good stares along with the odd ones.

When we go out with her, we always have to factor in the time we will spend with at least one random person who will come up to Abby and interact with our family because of her. Which is a GREAT thing!

She can change someone's day or life in those moments. 

Abby's hair, all nice and cute, represented a child well cared for to me. My pride took the hit because now she looks a bit more like the high maintenance special needs child who requires easy to deal with hair.

She's seriously this sweet these days... kissing Sissy!

It felt like a loss. 
A loss of something that I had defined her by, and a loss for me... points docked on my motherhood. I felt I had let her down or that I was a loser mom because her hair wasn't the way I envisioned it. 

...once again, it's not about me. 
Today, I let go of the pressure to care if  people judge me based on how my special needs daughter dresses (a constant battle) or how her hair is styled.

Like most battles... It is probably between my ears rather than a fact living in reality. It's also likely low on the totem pole of things anyone else thinks about, especially those whose opinions matter most to me.



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