Motherhood is crazy. Our hectic daily rounds are woven together with chaos and absurdities; meals to prepare, diapers to change, shoes to tie, hair to braid, school, soccer and swimming lessons, teeth to brush, stories to read, and kisses to give. Sigh. And in the midst of it all there sometimes lies a crystalline moment when you experience a poignant exchange with your child, an understanding, a meeting between you when when you are able to observe your child in all their beauty. You recognize that there is so much more than the swirling ordinary days. There's magic. Your child is an exceptional person in their own right and nothing exists in that instance but more love than a heart can hold and the pride that only a parent knows.
Tonight in a giddy serge of energy my daughter begged me to cut her hair as she has done on and off for weeks. We had agreed to make an appointment to cut it at the start of summer. But that wasn't soon enough. It had to be tonight. And it had to be me that cut it. I agreed (at which I am still slightly stunned). As we discussed how short was short enough she asked how much we'd need to cut to be able to donate it to Locks of Love. It was a request that came out of the blue. Something she came up with on her own. She had a friends donate ponytails last summer and she never forgot it.
They need 10 inches for a hairpiece but the best we could do was 7. They won't deny a donation of less than 10 (but more than 6) and since it was the best we could do she wanted to go for it. We combed out her clean blonde waves, pulled it back in a pony, debated a bit, dried it, and then cut it off. We both gasped as we took turns holding the ponytail in amazement (and maybe a tiny bit of shock). She put it down on the counter and said, "I think it's really nice to give this hair to someone who really needs it." And she nodded. I agreed and we spent the next half hour playing with her new, tousled A-line cut. "It feels good" she kept repeating. "It feels good."
It most certainly does.