I get more than the usual visits here from folks googling “crazy hair day” ideas. Mainly, I suppose, because 1/3 of my children absolutely lives for Crazy Hair Day at both Awana and VBS. She has come up with some interesting hair ideas, all on her own.
Because when God was handing out crafty skills, I was evidently off in the corner contemplating the real need of the opposable thumbs on my hands.
Some of Cailey’s most favorite Crazy Hair Day moments were as follows:
This was by far the most appetizing of her ideas. As it’s never unusual for her to find long blonde hair in her cereal. Because the breakfast table really is the best place to brush your hair in the morning…
This was an homage to the passing era of Barbie in her young life. May they rest in pieces. I’ve never seen a better collection of dismembered naked Barbies anywhere.
As her hair grew, so did her ideas.
She has been attending the VBS at our church this week, and has looked forward with great anticipation to the annual VBS Crazy Hair Day. She had an idea about using a water bottle to give her some MAJOR height.
As you might imagine, getting children ready in the morning to attend two separate VBS activities (Emme is doing Soccer Camp, since she is now too old for our VBS) can be stressful. Getting those same children out of the door by 7:30 am only adds to the excitement.
We are not morning people.
And then with the addition of the all important Crazy Hair Day, and the fact that the child is fighting some sort of cold bug, and is already 3 kinds of HIGH STRUNG, and, well, if visions of tears and widespread carnage danced in your head, then you have an accurate picture of our morning.
I have to tell you that I was uncharacteristically calm throughout the entire saga.
I managed to talk her down from the cheap bathroom light fixture, and actually positioned the water bottle underneath all of her hair. But as she soon discovered, when you add a water bottle’s height to an already 5’3″ TEN YEAR OLD, one no longer fits into the car.
Back to square one.
And more tears.
In desperation, I pulled her hair into a top-knot bun and shoved a silk dandelion into the top. She strode passed me, sniffling, to check the mirror, “What do I look like?”
Without utilizing my finely tuned parenting filter, I blurted out, “A blooming idiot.”
Tears were turned to laughter, but I had to issue a stern warning not to repeat that phrase. And then I had to explain from whence it came.
When I was about 10, I attended swimming lessons every summer at the local high school pool. My instructor that particular year was a high school student. One day she came in wearing a goofy looking bathing cap adorned with plastic Daisies. She walked up to us and asked, “How do I look?”
Well. Because I am who I am, I replied, “A blooming idiot.”
This was a phrase I heard my very southern mother use during moments of duress. She had a lot of moments of duress.
The swim instructor picked me up and threw me into the pool. Thankfully, she was laughing.
A situation was kept from going nuclear because I somehow managed to keep things light. I’ve said it often, we as moms completely set the tone in the house. When we go down in a ball of fire, we take the entire house down with us.
As I was able to demonstrate by the end of the day. In a spectacular blaze of glory. Another story for another day.
As of this moment, I wanted to tell of a success story. Which was short lived. Because evidently my child told her VBS instructors that her mother said she was a blooming idiot. I cannot WAIT to show my face at VBS tomorrow. To collect my Mother of the Year Award.