Let's jump right in. Yesterday Av and I had a lot of fun. It was raining for the 737th straight day and she was just not in to going anywhere. I can't say I blame her, either. Instead of leaving the house we participated in a variety of activities that included chasing around the cats, arts and crafts, cars and blocks and plenty of Sesame Street. Early on in the day she managed to lodge some Play Doh in her hair, just above her right eye. I did not see her do this, I was sitting across the table writing an article on the computer and letting her play by herself, something we have been trying to encourage lately. I noticed the large, yellow clump of Play Doh and went over to try and pick it out. Like each of her parents, Av does not particularly like being touched and she shooed me away, yelled at me and wouldn't let me pick it out. That's fine. I know the feeling. Don't f-ing touch me right now. I get it. We will take a bath later.
Maybe about a half hour later the activity had shifted from Play Doh to arts and crafts. Same seat, same activity bucket, different substance. At first, she was just using some old watercolors, but soon started to smear some glitter paint, contained in a tube, on to the paper. She smeared it around with her fingers and told me she was drawing Little Cat. Now, I don't know if she had an itch on her head or what, but it was about this time that she managed to get a huge clump of that paint in her hair in the exact same spot as the Play Doh.
I saw this happen, sighed a defeated sigh and watched as she smushed it all together.
"We're going to have to take a tubby, you know."
"No tubby. NO TUBBY! NO TUBBY! Eat?"
"Ok, eat then tubby."
"Ok, mac and cheese?"
"Ok, please don't get it in your hair."
What do you think ended up in the hair?
I don't even know how. Like, the Play Doh and the paint I get. The mac and cheese? That is abnormal. The issue was, I think, that he bangs are very long, in here eyes, so when she leaned down to eat the already protruding clump of hair was sticking out and was repeatedly dipped in the cheese sauce. This created a kind of gross, dairy coating over the paint and Play Doh. She was, by all accounts, a disgusting mess.
We got in the tub and I told her we had to, HAD to wash her hair. Aside from the obvious mess her hair was gross. Nappy, dirty, smelly. Gross. The problem is that she hates having her hair washed. Like, HATES it. She will scream bloody murder, flail, hit, punch, kick and generally carry on just so she doesn't have to have water dumped on her head. This occurred again. I let her play for a while and then tried to sneak in to clean it. She let me shampoo her entire head. I scrubbed the spot as much as I could before she made me stop. I cleaned out the soap with all of the carrying on and the screaming and the only thing I managed to get off was the cheese. The paint had worked with the Play Doh to create a mold of crusty, dry grossness.
My second attempt to remove the substance monster in her hair was to brush it out. Av also hates having her hair brushed, but I had to do it any way to get out the tangles and the dreads. I got everything our and her hair looked beautiful and clean. I started to attack the affected area and was met with resistance. She screamed and flailed and yelled again and I got nowhere. The brush just got caught in the gunk and it wasn't coming out. You see where this is going.
Now, let me tell you what my thought process was. I pictured Monica coming home, seeing the gunk and just endlessly yelling at me. Asking me how I let this happen, why I didn't get it out etc... I said to the baby. "Hey, what if we cut your bangs, they are kind of long. Do you want a pretty hair cut?"
Excitedly, the baby said "Baby pretty!" and for the first time that day, let me touch her hair without resistance. Now, my plan was to just cut out the clump and get the bangs out of her eyes. Unfortunately, the area was too big and it looked like someone attacked her with a razor. So, I evened it out. In all honestly. I am being dead serious when I say this. I thought it looked good. her bangs were a little short, but they were too long any way. She looks normal to me. Like a kid who got a hair cut. Was it as even as it could have been? No. But I truly thought that Monica would come home, see it, asked what happened and maybe maybe give me a little bit of shit because it wasn't quite even. Boy, did I misjudge that one.
Let me proceed this by explaining how Monica and I coexist. We are both very caustic people, that is the best way I can describe it. I mentioned the touching thing. Outward affection is minimal. We are both 'leave me alone' type people. We don't care much for society or their rules. We like being left alone most of the time. We are cynical on every front. We spend much of the day picking on one another, poking fun, busting balls. Much in the same way you may with your friends. Our arguments are frequent, yet brief and usually not serious. We irritate the crap out of each other and we both know it. For some reason, this keeps us honest. We love each other. Some times we also like each other. Not all the time though. I like her more than she likes me. We are very much alike yet share few interests. Somehow, this has all worked for a very, very long time. Our relationship is a mystery to most people. People don't get us one bit. How we operate, our sense of humor, our outlook. That is fine. It works and we are both happy.
In the time we have been together I can only recall a few times when Monica has been violently furious with me. Once was the time I walked out of Not Your Average Joe's because the hostess was skipping over us to seat her friends and then she sassed me when I confronted her. Don't sass me, ever. Especially if you are a hostess.
Yesterday was one of those times. By the time Monica had returned home from work I had already forgotten about the hair cut. When Monica said 'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY DAUGHTER!!??!" I had to think for a minute. Then I said softly to myself. 'Shit.'
I was yelled at, threatened with violence and generally scolded for some time. I see now why she is upset. I don't think it looks that bad, but whatever. I am not supposed to touch the hair. There is no rule book. It seems I just find out the rules as I break them. Here I was thinking I did something nice. Even now as I look at her it doesn't look that bad to me. But I will never say that again. I will also never touch her hair again. Clump or no clump. Lesson learned. Apparently, I am a 'Goddam Idiot.'
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