Since Evie has come into our lives, I have seen many things I never imagined I would. I have seen vomit covering the top half of her body and diarrhea covering the lower half. At the same time. I have seen her smear snot hither and yon. I have seen her plunge her hand into a bowl of spaghetti and wipe it across her face.
I’m sorry, were you eating?
I have also done many things I never imagined I would. I have wiped up and rinsed off and, in some cases, hosed down. Gill and I debated what would gross us out the most in the process of taking care of a little person, and I wagered attacking a highchair oozing with wet food would be my white whale. Sure, I knew managing my baby’s bodily functions would be like nothing I’d ever experienced, but did I ever think I’d pick another person’s nose? No, no I did not.
And, yet, Evie? Still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I swear, there is nothing that could come out of that child that would make me think her less adorable, less angelic. Is it any wonder then that I really paid no heed when her hair reached vagrant proportions?
I would like to submit Exhibit A into evidence as part of my defense:
I mean, on one hand we have a possible refugee from the cast of an off-Broadway production of Annie, and on the other hand we have cute little crossed ankles and pink toes just begging to be tickled. Which would grab your attention first? I rest my case.
Still, others started to suggest that maybe Evie’s hair could use a little “shaping”. Hey, I can take a hint.
Behold! I give you the skilled hands of my own hairdresser, Carmen. Dig the fabulous nails. I have to tell you, Carmen is crazy. I don’t mean like mental ward crazy, though. I mean like Lord-y’all-they-ain’t-no-tellin’-what-that-girl-is-gonna-do-next crazy. You know, Country Crazy. In my opinion, Country Crazy is the only kind of hairdresser to have. Evie agrees and enjoyed getting her first haircut from Carmen.
As is my way, I had fretted about this haircut all week. When Friday finally rolled around, the day of Evie’s appointment, I was sure the whole thing was destined for disaster, and the chocolate and light-up Valentine’s Day necklace I had procured would be vain and weak talismans in the face of Evie’s eventual meltdown. So, anticipating that Carmen would need some time to get Evie strapped down in her chair and a sheet draped over her, I chatted up Mike, the man whom Carmen has married twice (I told y’all she’s crazy). That’s Mike in the background. Interesting tidbit: At first glance of this photo, I thought the person standing in the background, who is actually Mike, was me. But then I realized that no, that couldn’t be me because I was taking the pictures. I am stunningly stupid sometimes. Anyway, as I assured Mike that hateful people would eventually stop talking smack about his and Carmen’s rekindled flame, Carmen started the haircut. I had to spring into action.
Instead of strapping Evie down institution-style, Carmen opted to let her crawl all over Auntie while she quickly and cleverly snipped here and there. Incidentally, Carmen cuts Auntie’s hair, too. She may have a love life that puts any Hollywood starlet’s to shame, but Carmen cuts a fabulous head of hair, don’t you think? By the way, I think I heard Evie say, “Et tu, Brute?”
The finished product!
Gill and I would like to introduce our son, Evie.
In the end, there was candy. Isn’t there always?
Little Evie’s hair does look much better, and people have stopped trying to hand her change when we walk down the street. And yes, Evie’s grandmothers, I did save some of the hair.
As for me, I was told by Carmen in no uncertain terms, “Honey-child, you need to come in here and have your roots done.”
Love that girl.