9 years ago when our oldest child was a few months old we headed out to our home church group one sunday night considering ourselves seasoned parents. As many first time parents of infants do, we had already declared ourselves pros and we knew what we would and would not allow our children to do in the future.
We had it planned. We had it together.
During home group a woman who I greatly admired shakily stood up, leaning on a chair, and started telling a story in detail about how she basically went crazy over a hairbrush.
Once again her daughters had went into her bathroom and taken her hairbrush without asking. She went on and on and on about how much of an issue this had become with her voice getting a little sharper and louder with each word. She simply could never find a hairbrush, even her own personal hairbrush.
In a fit of rage she lost her temper, yelled at the girls and then kicked a chair in frustration, breaking her toe.
I’m sure that the point of her story was great because she was a wise woman who always found the message hidden in the clouds.
BUT… at that point I was too busy looking at Mr. Byrd with eyes the size of saucers. Obviously she had went over the edge because who lets a kid keep taking their hairbrush without asking? And who would yell at their kids and break their toe?
(stop laughing because the ignorance was deep)
On the way home that night I politely told him that if I ever flipped out over a hairbrush with our future kids, he should immediately check me into the local looney bin. Obviously I could state this because I knew EVERYTHING about parenting after only two months of parenting.
Well… luckily Mr. Byrd wasn’t here yesterday to see me loose it over a hairbrush or I would be having trouble writing this with the straight jacket on.
Yes, I was the angry version of Bob and Larry today yelling “OH WHERE IS MY HAIRBRUSH?”. Seriously Bob and Larry must have been parents to little girls.
I’ve bought hairbrushes. So many hairbrushes. In fact, I should probably buy stock in a few hairbrush companies since we have 3 girls. Yet there’s never a hairbrush in sight.
I am now the crazy person ranting about a hairbrush.
Somewhere along the way all my notions of the perfect way to parent have fallen away and I’m stuck with the truth;
Parenting is a messy sport that makes you go more than a little bit crazy and leaves you with unkept hair.
It’s so easy as a parent of a new infant or even being not a parent yet to look at a situation and say “oh my kids will never do that”.
For example, I said that my kids would never go out in public looking like wild animals.
HA! Not only have they literally worn wild animal costumes out in public, they’ve also worn one blue shoe and one white shoe at the same time while having their hair stuck to a mystery fluid on their face.
It’s parenting. It’s trench warfare, not a fashion show.
Parenting is not a sport of perfection, it’s one that will reveal your every single weakness and then stomp it to death.
So where is my hairbrush? I have no clue. Thankfully messy buns are in style. I’m sure I’ll find my hairbrush when the kids decide to brush the dog’s fur.
The lesson of the day – Don’t judge lest one day you be the one slowly loosing their mind while replacing it with love. In other words, you’ll be a parent.
Also, I’m now accepting hairbrush donations.
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