Lisa's Lines

The text read: “Ellen cut her hair.”

It was bound to happen. Actually, I’m surprised it hadn’t happened earlier. But, my mom, who was watching 4-year-old Ellen at the time, felt horrible about the incident until my dad reminded her of her own daughter’s self-styling job many years ago.

I cut my own hair when I was around Ellen’s age. It was the night before my family’s one and only professional photo session. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and working diligently with a little yellow plastic scissors. I wanted to look extra good for the family picture, and somehow I managed to snip a large triangle out of my massive 1980’s-style triangle bangs. I even “cleaned up” the mess by putting all my trimmings into a big plastic cup. I was so proud of myself and I looked darn good (or so I thought). Of course, my mom was devastated. My dad tried to comb my remaining hairs every which way to cover/fill in the gap. The large, one-time-only professional photo of my family still hangs over my parents’ fireplace. And, if you look closely you can see my handiwork.

So, when I received the text regarding Ellen’s new haircut, I smiled and begged my mom to send me a photo. She refused, which triggered mental images of Ellen missing long locks or sporting bald spots… I was anxious to get home and SEE the outcome.

It turned out fine. Ellen gave herself a new, “layered” look, which isn’t even noticeable when she sports a headband.

I hate to admit it, but I’m almost disappointed. I expected more from my spirited little redhead.

*****

A party invitation recently threw me into uncharted parenting waters.

It was a cute Evite (an e-mailed invitation) requesting my elder daughter’s presence at her classmate’s bowling alley birthday party. After checking our family calendar, I clicked the “I’ll attend” button in the RSVP section.

That night, I told Anna about the party and asked what kind of gift she would like to pick up for her friend.

“Oh… Well, I don’t want to go,” she mumbled.

Surprised by her comment, I turned around and looked at her. She was sitting at the kitchen island, working on homework.

“Sweetie, did you say that you don’t want to go to the party?” I questioned.

“Yes,” she answered without looking up from her work.

I didn’t know how to proceed. Should I push her for an explanation? Should I respect her request and call the birthday child’s mom to let her know Anna will not be attending? Why wouldn’t she want to hang out with her friends? Does she have friends? Is there something going on at school that I should know about? Should I just let the issue alone? If your child doesn’t attend a party do you still give a gift?

My mind was spinning, and my heart hurt for her. But, Anna was just fine. She completed her homework and helped me set the table. I tried to act normal, but I couldn’t hold it in. Not knowing—or not even asking for a reason was driving me crazy. I had to ask, “So, why don’t you want to go to the party?”

She simply shrugged and went to round up her little sister for dinner.

Ugh. What is she not telling me?! What is going on?! I made it through dinner without asking any more questions, but confided in my husband about the situation after Anna went to her room to read. Of course, he didn’t think it was a big deal. His thought was: If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.

I had a million questions and concerns flying around in my head, and his quick and direct response did nothing to ground them. So, I questioned a few mom friends (without naming the birthday child).

One mom’s party rule is: If you’re invited, you go. Her reasoning is that whatever drama is playing out in the classroom at this time will blow over faster if the kids get together and have fun.

The other mom was more reluctant. Her reasoning: At 7-1/2 years old, kids should be able to start making those kinds of decisions by themselves. No one should have to go to a party.

I could see it both ways.

What if something really silly was keeping Anna from missing a fun time with her classmates? Maybe she would rather show up at the party with a friend?

That night, I told Anna that she could carpool with a friend to the party.

Again, I received a shrug for an answer.

I just couldn’t take it. I HAD to know. “Anna, WHY don’t you want to go to this party?” I erupted. “If you have a good reason, I promise, you won’t have to go. But, I hope you are considering your friend’s feelings. She invited you and is hoping that you will be there. How would you feel if someone you invited chose not to attend your party? Plus, there’s going to be cake, pizza, and ice cream. It’s going to be fun!”

“Oh… Well, maybe I’ll go…” she responded—once again with a shrug.

I just looked at her. My sweet little girl was telling me she didn’t want to do something and I was trying to guilt her into doing it. Ugh. Maybe there really is a bullying issue or maybe she’s avoiding some annoying girl drama. Whatever it was, I was going to back her up. She didn’t have to go.

“Okay, Anna, I’ll call ____’s mom and let her know you won’t be attending,” I stated.

Then, as she started to walk away, she mumbled, “That’s fine. I don’t really like bowling.”

My mouth dropped open, and I started to laugh. It was a laugh of relief—laughing off all my crazy mom concerns and made-up dramas.

“Anna! Get back here,” I ordered with a smile. Anna dramatically backed up and looked at me with her best “what-now” face. “Sweetie, I think you can go bowling for a little while if that is what your friend wants to do for her birthday.”

“Okay,” she answered with a smile and a shrug. “I’ll go, but let’s get her googles or something. Maybe she’ll pick a pool or something different next year.”

Parenthood is a trip.

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