Like RevDrMom, I found myself quite disoriented over the past 10 days or so without the usual moorings of a regular work schedule for Taxman and of preschool for Miss M. It wasn’t bad, but ordinary weeks have sort of a beginning, a middle, and an end, not three Sundays and two Thursdays and Shabbat. I wonder if it’s been messing with AM also, because his naps went all haywire and it took 90!minutes! to get him to sleep last night. So far it’s looking like today will be a more normal go of it…

(Aside, am I really that habituated and boring? Alas, it appears so.)

As long as he’s sleeping, though, I am going to continue freaking out about this afternoon. I’ve scheduled Miss M’s first haircut for 3:45, and I must complete my tizzy now, so that she will be calm and open to lollipop bribery.  I’ve been saying for about a year that she needs a haircut, but now it’s very true–if only to get rid of the dead ends that snarl every ponytail holder in the universe. I will repeat, over and over, “It’s just a trim.” I don’t want it short; I like the option of putting it up. Miss M prefers a little top knot “and curly in the back,” but this makes her look about five and breaks her father’s heart. I like two little poufy pigtails because it’s adorable or a tight, ballerina-like bun because it keeps the hair out of her face the best when she’s eating yogurt or using glue. But when it’s not too frizzy (maybe 2 days out of 7 in the winter) I accede to her wishes, if only to avoid the inevitable tantrum, with howls of “Ema, I want ONE!”

Anyway, this rite of passage has been pushed back far too long, and now I am too invested. I am beyond vain about her hair (and AM’s eye color, just so that nobody thinks I am playing favorites), as evidenced by the above freakout and willingness to spend probably more money on this afternoon’s adventure than my past three haircuts combined.* I need a good smack, clearly. But at the same time, her hair is the first thing people notice about her, so I feel responsible for getting it right. Ack, the pressure, it’s all too much!

I must go eat a brownie.

* Full disclosure: Taxman cuts my hair, so it’s free. But I never liked to spend much; in college I used to wait until I went home and my stepmom took me to her salon. Great haircuts, but I wouldn’t have wanted to pay for them by myself!