Twirling

While taking the boys to gymnastics yesterday, I gave Keilie her list of chores and expected assignments.  When I got home, I found that not only had she not done any of the things she needed, she had actually messed with her ponytail (it had been kept on the counter, drying on a towel) and broken the elastic, ruining it for Locks of Love.

"At first I was just holding it up to my head, looking in the mirror.  Then I was just feeling how soft it was.  Then I started to twirl it around super fast."  All this was said with a face of shame.  I won't lie, I was ticked.  Very ticked.  Mostly because she told me that when her friends asked why she cut it, she said I made her do it.  This stopped me in my tracks.  Keilie had been asking for months to donate her hair.  Now, because it didn't turn out exactly how she thought, it was all my fault somehow.  I sucked it up, remembering a time when my mom cut my bangs way too short.  I needed the trim, but she didn't do it how I thought it needed to be done.  I totally blamed her then, and I totally remember my anguish, now.  It was a life-changer, apparently.

But this, touching it when I had told the kids repeatedly to leave it alone, trying to convince me that all she did was hold it up and the elastic broke, and ultimately destroying the only reason she cut the hair in the first place, and I lost it.  She was sent to her room for a while while I took a time out.

Keilie has always been blessed with good coping mechanisms, which she proved to me this morning.  "Mom, I love my hair today.  It looks better today, huh?"  I have to give it to her.  She knew I was still upset.  Not angry, just upset.  However, if she isn't worried about losing the donation, then why should I?  After all, she is the one that had asked for months.  I didn't make her do it!  And you better believe that Shelby became "The Golden Child."  "Mommy, I didn't touch my ponytail after you told me not to."  Nice!