Help Me, O Lord


My daughter is testing me.

I am not going to pass this trial, baby Jesus.

After the ear piercing fiasco, next up to shred my nerves is this hair. I do not understand the logic, Gods and Goddesses. I do not. Hair on your head, when not brushed, will knot.

If Girl A does not brush her hair in the morning, how many knots will Girl A have at 8 am the following morning? Upon refusing to brush her now knotted hair, how many MORE knots will Girl A have by 8pm on the second day?  Knot(a) x Tears(b) = Vodka(c)  Don’t forget to show your work!

I am being tested, Oh Lord, and imma fail. Imma fail spectacularly in a storm of my child’s tears, hairbrush hair, and sweat. We are falling into that fiery pit of Tweendom where eyes are rolling, sass is sassing, and hands are hipping. This momma is not having it, though. No ma’am. She may not like me, but I like to think when she’s in her twenties we will have a healthy, fun, close relationship. We’ll get there.

So long story short, i’m cutting her hair tomorrow. Seriously. I am not putting myself or her -or the neighbors and their animals- through the howling cries of my Amazonian Water Girl (she is too gentile to wield a weapon of War) for one more evening. Our deal is, you don’t brush your hair and you have a fit when brushing? Your hair gets shortened. It will continue to get shortened until you can manage it your damn self. I don’t mind helping. I don’t mind experimenting, I don’t mind styling or washing, I do mind being screamed at and putting my nerves through preventable trauma.

Her new hair style might even be short enough to show off her single ear piercing. Maybe she’s starting a new trend…? “The Page Boy Pirate” presented by “The Drunk Mom” sponsored by Tito’s Vodka and Future Psychiatrists of America.

One thought on “Help Me, O Lord

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