Being sick sucks! Anxiety sucks! Death, ya- that sucks too. This is a trilogy of posts...yikes!

This is my ending, I've decided to post it first. I went all over the place with myself today. Enjoy.

When someone dies, do they leave and are they forgotten?

I love this question so much, I had to bold and underline it. This question is fantastic, it makes you THINK. It takes that anxiety ridden brain and slows it, it focuses it. My body is vibrating with excitement right now!

A person that we truly love and admire, someone that has touched us in a certain way, that special way never really leaves us. We just have to choose to remember the moments we shared, everything we need and want from a person that has passed is locked up in that beautiful brain of ours, waiting for us to find it and enjoy those memories.

My father died almost 14 years ago, it took me 10 years to even say "My dad is dead"
My mother is still not allowed to talk about him, her fault. Don't bad mouth a dead man, especially to his daughter who is convinced that the sun rises and sets because of him.
Ya, my dad was that badass, dare I say it, Chuck Norris has nothing on him. Oh and he would have beat my ass for me calling him an ass earlier in this post.
I'm sorry, I'm not sorry.

Hell ya I miss him, that will never stop. Ever. But it gets easier.

But I still have my dad, up there in my head, every experience we shared is there. Trips to Dillon's Beach, different hot rods we restored, some memories are stronger than others. Some are altogether crappy memories, usually when I was in trouble. *I catalog those for reprimanding my kids, hehe* 

Some memories are tough and have to be triggered by others memories of him, these are the best memories yet most difficult for me to handle.
In fact, there was a point in time where I shut them out entirely, I didn't want anyone speaking of my dad. I wanted no one to make me feel that way ever again, tears stinging  my eyes and the tightness in my chest. The mere mention of his name was like I was losing him all over again, to add a memory to it was too much. I longed for those memories to be replayed in real life.
I was angry. I wanted my dad.
That was the beginning of my detachment with my father, for years I numbed myself to any feelings. Not only did I shut out my dad and all the feelings associated with his loss, but my anxiety begin. I lost weight, LOTS of weight. I lost friends, I developed a fear of abandonment, and made bad choices.
I forgot it all. No memory = no pain, right?
I only had myself to thank for it.
I was so wrong. Don't do what I did.

They say a rumor looses it's power when you stop spreading it. 

Well, for me that rings true for those that pass away.

A spirit looses it's power when you no longer speak of it.

*Oh boy I'm excited again, sharing what's in my crazy brain!!*

Almost three years ago, my life changed. I have mentioned Sam and her incredible ability before, but three years ago Sam came into my life. Sam showed me that I was wrong for pushing my feelings aside, she helped me embrace the pain I felt and harness it's energy to help me heal and feel my father again.
What I should have done this entire time.
Sam helped me get my life back, helped me find my center and helped me live. Not only was I taking power away from my father's spirit, I was taking away from mine.

By someone else mentioning my father it was generating more power to his spirit, power I was not prepared for. What I first thought was sadness, wasn't.
It was just my daddy storing more memories in my brain, more reasons to smile and remember him.

With this knowledge, I started to feel alive again. My brain ignited and feelings, memories and experiences came flowing back into me. I became emotional, in a good way. I started to laugh, like cheeks and abs hurting laugh. I made better choices for me and my children. Pretty much, I got my shit together.

So ya, I was angry when he died, who wouldn't be. I felt as if I had been cheated, I still needed more time. I had more to learn.
What I didn't realize was that he had given me the tools to succeed, and if I had any questions, my notes were stored as memories in my brain.



The REAL beginning: *hehe*

Being in any way pleasant, when sick, sucks even worse. I'm grumpy, I don't feel well and I have NO time for any of it.

I was just telling Blondie, "I haven't been sick sick since we met" He wasn't quite sure what I meant, but I have sick issues, when I am sick it's for months. I don't recover well because I never give myself time to recover.When I am sick, I need sleep. That is my best medicine, rest. *along with vitamin C, garlic, and multi-vitamins.*

Ready to hear my complaint? I am sick! I am achy, my nose is bright red, I have a full set of luggage under my eyes, my lungs are weak, I am super sensitive to scents; flowers, perfume, especially cigarettes, I can't breathe seems like all I do is wheeze, forget sleeping because it's not possible, toss turn toss turn, *cardio at night anyone?*, my nose is either the hoover dam or Niagara falls, sometimes both...at once.

Pretty, right?

Then there is this figure competition that I have been dieting for. 8 weeks left, yikes! I got measured and didn't lose as much body fat as I had hoped, but dang I am still down a lot. I should be proud of myself, but I'm not.
I haven't been training like I should, I have had more cheat meals than I should. But not anymore. I can't give up on this, I won't fail. This was something I wanted to do with Blondie, but I'm feeling alone. Which is odd because I know I have Blondie to talk to, to train with, to prep with. I have my trainer, Casey who is always available and pretty much a pro at listening to me b!tch about $hit that I'll forget about in 2 weeks. My kids motivate me, Little Buddy is almost as good as we are about prepping meals.
"Momma don't you need two bags of protein and two pineapple?"
Meh, get yourself together, it's just the gym. The weights don't grow legs and attack you, you do this at Casey's, do it at 24!

Along with being sick, and extremely discouraged about my show, I am not able to control my anxiety.
Sickness and anxiety go hand in hand for me.

*I should have labeled post, Caution: Pity party, enter at your own risk*

I've battled this damn anxiety crap for years, about 14 years to be exact.
*I really should blame all of this on my father, he is the one that died. Ass.Yes, he is an ass for dying, I wasn't done learning from him yet. Ass ass ass ass meh ass.*
Most of the time, when I'm not sick and physically weak,  I can chill myself out and mentally stabilize myself. I have learned that everything in life has choices; so instead of allowing or choosing to let my anxiety consume me, I simply choose to not give it the power to ruin my day, mood, diet, life. My anxiety is used to empower me, it is my fuel to be better and to be stronger...
Not today! I am freaking the eff out.
Knees shaking, heart is racing, ears are plugged and ringing *sick remember*, my heart is going a million miles an hour and my brain, good lord.  my brain is traveling at speeds that would make Captain Kirk dramatically throw himself around in shock.

*I can still be funny while sick and smack dab in the middle of anxiety, go me! Ass*

If I don't laugh, I'll cry, if I don't laugh I'll cry. Must not give up.

You know what helped a lot last night? Mini Me, in her wisdom BEYOND her years, suggested I sit and paint my nails with her, she gave me this look like. "Dammit momma, sit your skinny butt down next to me and chill out, you can't do it all right now, you can't fix it all right now and those chipped nails aren't going to help." And you know what, I did. She brought out her paints, cause she's girly and has some, and we did our nails. I calmed down.

So here I sit, thinking of why I'm upset, bothered, anxiety ridden.
I've made lists, thank you Blondie. I have checked $hit off those lists, which is cool.
I have relaxed myself through breathing.
I have an amazing job with equally amazing co-workers.
I have built some pretty dang great friendships.
I started this blog, which is a MAJOR help in getting things out. I had no idea how fun this would actually be for me, even if no one reads. ha!
Little Buddy is doing amazing in school, that in itself should send me over the moon.

I still have weak days; the third Sunday in June, July 1st and Sept. 10th to be exact. But at least I can expect them so they really shouldn't sideline me like this, at least not after 14 damn years, right?

*look on a calendar you bloody idiot, prepare better for these days and they won't sucker punch you*

So now that I've written all of that, spit it out of my little fingers and onto the page, I have managed to calm down

~I have realized that how I am feeling about every aspect of my life is normal, nothing in life should go easily, if it does, we might take it for granted. Take nothing for granted.

~Everyone has one thing, maybe more, that truly makes them happy, do it. Do it often and truly enjoy it.
Live baby, live!

~People set goals, some get met, some don't, the only time you fail is when you quit.
*dammit dad, right again*

~We lose people we love and it sucks. When loss happens we feel lost, angry, excruciating pain, frustration, wonder, did I say anger?
*You can say anger twice, it's an odd anger. Like you might combust from it's sheer heat and pissed-off-ness.*
We can't be here forever, each and every person we encounter, has an expiration date. Are we ever ready to say goodby forever? Nope. Does that person leave and get forgotten? Ha! That is the right question!

The answer is above.
 

"Every day may not be good, but there’s something good in every day." ~Unknown

I don't know who said it, but it's true.


I woke up this morning in a rotten mood. It was one of those days where you get out of bed and you feel everything around you mutter "$hit, she's up". Then when your feet hit the ground, you step on something sharp, stub your toe on the door frame and bonk your head on the shower knob.

*picture the wildfire scene in Bambi, animals scatter running for safety.*

Ya, I had that kind of morning.

I woke up Little Buddy, who was happily sleeping in his homemade bunk bed hammock, he is so cuddly in the mornings. *Ain't nobody got time for that* Little Buddy was in slow mode, and well, he rarely has a slow mode. He was very distracted this morning which didn't help him being extra slow. I got mad. Poor guy. I was angry with him for just trying to wake up and be sweet to the dogs, go potty, hug me good morning, wash his hands before he brushed his teeth, it seemed like I was upset to be upset and I took it out on him.

Little Buddy loves his basket ball shorts, he mimics Blondie with every chance he gets (even requesting protein shakes so he can grow big and strong). He wanted to wear a pair that I had not washed, he didn't care. But I did.  I didn't talk to him about it, I talked at him. Defeated my sweet little boy retreated to his bedroom to find something else to wear. It took too long, I had breakfast made and his lunch packed, but I had yet to get ready myself. I needed Little Buddy to hurry, he is always quick...why. not. now?? Bah, I feel crappy about how I spoke to him this morning, his big brown tear filled eyes looking up at me, apologizing to me for something that I should be apologizing to him for. I tied his shoes ( I wanted fast, remember) and held him. I hugged my crying boy and told him I was sorry. I told him I messed up by speaking to him the way I did, I told him he picked a good outfit and he did a fantastic job at brushing his teeth. (He took his time, did well...I wanted fast) UGH, I screwed up big time this morning. Dammit.


Mini Me stayed away, she wrapped herself in her peace sign snuggie knock off and kept her distance. She is a smart one. She understands me, you see Mini Me and I are identical. Not just in looks but in moods. Sometimes, when she wakes up, I shudder. "$hit, she's up".  As hard as it is being the same as your little, it makes it easy to understand.  This morning Mini Me understood, I needed her too. She looked at me, smiled at me, let me be bat$hit crazy and then said, "Momma, go get ready, I'll help. Go"

*I hardly said a word to my kids this morning, aside from barking orders at Little Buddy and the pleading look on my face of "help me" to Mini Me.*

Ahhhhh, I feel rotten. There aren't many days that I feel like a crappy momma, but dang it if this isn't one of them.

As you can see, my day has not been fantastic, my nerves are shot, my brain is going a million miles an hour, I feel guilty, and I am tired.

*I can take on the world if I'm rested, I don't handle much when I'm tired.*

I really should be locked away all day. I am not fun to be around. 

Buuuuuut my day is also good, I need to recognize that. I do feel better now that I have confessed to you my antics of this morning, still feeling guilty. I will still make it up to him. I make mistakes, but I can fix it.
I may be cranky and easily rubbed wrong but I have a great job, great co-workers, a boyfriend that adores me, and children that will still let me kiss them in public.

So tonight when I get home I am going to talk to my Little Buddy, explain to him that I was very wrong to treat him poorly, I was wrong to be frustrated with him. I am going to apologize. . *sorry means nothing without the positive action toward change*
Not only will I apologize, I will make my best effort to never treat him that way again. I will promise to fix my moods before stepping out of my room.
Just because I'm upset by some unknown, doesn't mean I have any right to project those negative feelings onto those I love. It is not Little Buddies fault, or Blondie's fault, or Mini Me's fault. I own my moods, I have to be an adult and make the decision to choose to see the good in every day.

Did you ever think you'd be prepping food in the kitchen and watching Disney Channel??

Let me set the stage:

It's midday on Friday, we had just had our a$$e$ handed to us at the gym, (TRX crunches are no joke, ask Blondie hehe) and it was time to prep food for the next week.

Pineapple has been cut and measured, tilapia has been cooked, weighed, and bagged. Inventory of sweet potatoes and brown rice, done. We are finally winding down in our routine and then we remember our protein...bah! How could we forget the powdered chocolaty goodness?
Blondie gets our jug, I get our bags. We post up, side by side. He scoops, I label and hold the bag. Teamwork.

*There is no I in TEAM...well there kind of is, in the a-hole*

Three bags in and I stop look up at him and ask if he'd ever thought his life would be what it is now? Standing in our kitchen scooping protein and watching the Disney Channel, fixing flat tires on well loved bikes, arguing *ahem, negotiating* bed times and if dessert is warranted.

He stops, grins down at me, beautiful blue eyes sparkling and a simple "nope" comes out of his mouth.

I know this man well enough to know, "nope" says very little, but oh so much. This life we have built together isn't anything he had planned, or expected, but somehow it's everything he or should I say, everything we needed.  

When we met, Blondie was single, prepping for his first physique competition, doing what he wanted when he wanted, he had no restrictions. He had just traveled Europe with his friend and was talking about planning his next adventure...BAM! He met little ol' me. baahahahah *that is in no way an evil laugh, ok ok it is*

So now he has us, a ready made family. We are like those sea monkeys you just add water to, bouncing, flopping around popping up from nowhere, and then again we aren't. We are work, quirky, goofy, moody, funny, and a little bit high maintenance. *They are, not me, no way no how*

I look to Blondie for help, reassurance, strength. I mean his arms are the size of my quads, so that's strength, right?? He is my teeter to my totter, or I'm his totter to his teeter. Either way we work. He helps me, I help him. He drives me I drive him. Give and take, take and give. It works. For the first time in my life, it works. F@*king terrifying and yet it's not.

Yes, we have had the "Are you sure about this?!" conversation, it is usually brought on by Little Buddy  pushing my buttons and Mini Me's buttons, who is also pushing my buttons and he's pushing Diva-Do's buttons, and jumping up and down on Dopey-Dope's buttons. *freaking buttons, I hate buttons* Meow is lucky, she leaves, peace out humans, you are NUTS!!!

"Babe are you SURE you want to do this, cause really I don't, I don't wanna, I change my mind. I should have had a pet first, no instructions, no sense, no way! You stay, I'll leave. Diva, Dope to the car, we're outta here!!!"
*above is a very accurate recount of a mommy melt down. Do I mean it, no way, would I ever leave them, NEVER, but those dang buttons!!!*


The reality is this life is beautiful! It's taken me a long time to get here, lots of work, lots of struggles, but I'm here and dammit I'm going to enjoy it.

So I will ask myself the same question I asked Blondie, to be fair.

In all I've done and all I've been through, did I ever think I would be where I am today?
Nope

Would I change a thing, past or present?
Nope

Life, it's pretty damn special.

Disappointment, heartache, pain, healing, strength, knowledge...

Disappointment, heartache, pain, healing, strength, knowledge...

I see posts on Facebook about people being disappointed in others, disappointed that they trusted someone that didn't deserve it, or they made a bad choice and they are disappointed in themselves.I even see the loss of someone by their own hands, or even by accident.
Floods of emotion posted, words of encouragement commented below.

Well to that I have a quote:

“Whatever relationships you have attracted in your life at this moment, are precisely the ones you need in your life at this moment. There is a hidden meaning behind all events, and this hidden meaning is serving your own evolution.”
― Deepak Chopra

This touches deeply with me, because I was the queen of "learning relationships" and I am proud to say with the proper guidance (I have some pretty dang amazing friends) I have found the lessons left, the knowledge, after the disappointment, heartache, pain, and healing. 

I am not talking solely about romantic relationships, which was the first thing that came to my mind in reading the quote. But upon further reflection I have learned valuable lessons from the close relationship I had with my father. I continue to learn in my relationship with my mother and brother, those boundaries are quite fluid and confuse me daily. My relationships with my Minis, what do I want our forever to look like and how do I properly build that. What is the right mix of love and structure, why it shouldn't hurt when they ask to spend the weekend with an aunt or friend.

My father was my first relationship. My mother used to say that we were unusually close, that we weren't normal, and that our relationship wasn't healthy.
Oddly enough, she brought this to my attention shortly after his death, her timing wasn't the best. I pride myself in thinking before I speak and trying my best to consider others feelings before I make comments, wellllll let's just say that didn't happen. I believe my response was quite harsh and along the lines of, "no mother, my relationship with you isn't healthy...what was my soccer number again?" My relationship with my mother hasn't been great, I've always felt fulfilled in my life with my father, but there are times I wondered why my mother didn't want to be a part of my life.
After his diagnosis, he offered my mother and brother to live in our home, to stay with us so that I had someone around to make sure I was OK once he died....she declined, and well, the events immediately after his death were mind-numbingly painful.

After my dad died, I was disappointed, my heart was broken, everyday I woke up in pain, aching for my daddy, why did God take the man that did everything for me, was everything to me?  F#!CK CANCER
I don't know...but he wouldn't want me to be crippled by his death, my dad turned the little stream I was into a badass river and dammit if I wasn't going to do good by him.

Disappointment, check.
Heartache, double check
Pain, yup felt it. * I lost my damn mind, to be honest*
Healing, under construction.
*As I type this my eyes burn with tears, my nose is tingling and my heart aches for the man I lost almost 14 years ago.*
Strength, check plus, under construction and getting stronger everyday!
Knowledge, I am a sponge and I want to know all I can about me and why.

Well damn, I had hoped after all these years I'd be better off with this loss. I'm not.

I was stuck in a rut for a few years, well about 8 actually.
And then I met someone.

I met Sam.

Sam is special, gifted and amazing. Sam helped me heal in ways only she could, and it worked, it is still working.

For years I fought my father's memory. I pushed him out of my head and my heart so I didn't feel the pain. I locked him up tight. But in locking up the pain, I also locked up the memories, the laughs and the time I had with him. That was wrong, dangerously wrong, in doing that I lost a part of me.

When my mother said that my father and I were unusually close, she was right we were, we are. Just because his physical presence was gone, didn't mean his spiritual presence was.
Like my dad would let a little thing like death stop him! Ha!

Sam gave me the tools I needed to feel him again. That is when I really began to heal, to open up and see him everywhere and from that I get my strength.

I will post more about this later, but I have to get ready for a fuzzy wuzzy adoption event with Recycled Pets NorCal.

xoxo
E

“Don't try to steer the river.” ― Deepak Chopra

Don't try to steer the river. Don't. Try. To. Steer. The. River.
Hmmm, I like it. I might use it. (On my kids of course)
Because all useful tidbits of information I gain I pass on to my Minis, like my dad did for me.

 "Goddammit Elaine, I'm not here because it's fun, I'm doing this because I want you to have more, to be better that I am. I work my ass off for you, all of this *arms open looking around* is for you. I don't need a nice house, I don't need acreage, this is for you. Learn and don't be a smartass." -he had a way with words, didn't he?

Ha! I was as receptive to my fathers rants, as I guess my Mini Me is to mine. Little Buddy still humors me, snuggles up and says he understands, kisses me, tells me he loves me and that I'm his most beautiful momma ever. A for effort buddy. You will be a good man.

Don't try to steer the river.  It reminds me of trying to herd cats or slamming a revolving door. Or to be gentle, not force things into the way you think they should go, but let them be what they are, who they are.

So what does that mean, above I said "You will be a good man." How will he be? By my influence, Blondie's influence? I can't really see the other choices, maybe he won't be. Maybe he is destined to do to his kids what his father did to him, what his father's father did to him. Maybe he will choose to idolize the man who has chosen to be in his life, chosen to be a dad, when he didn't have to be. He wanted to.

Don't try to steer the river?

Can we guide it? Show this river (Little Buddy) a better way? Provide him with the tools to change his own course? Then can he steer it?

This isn't exactly the direction I was planning on heading with this bit of rambling, but I like where I'm going. My brain is moving, thoughts are rolling around, ideas screaming to get out. Maybe I'll have a revelation, maybe I will help you have a revelation...

Don't try to steer the river... 

I am certainly not going to make my Minis be something they are not, but hopefully by nurturing them and raising them in a good environment, with good roll models, structure and rules,  We can help guide the stream before it becomes a river.

I mean, shit happens. You can't control every aspect in life. Heck, Mini Me goes to middle school and experiences things I never dreamed of seeing at the age she is. But she tells me about it, looks to me for approval that she did the right thing by confiding in me. I hope I'm guiding her stream to make good decisions for her, guiding her to be true to who she is and who she wants to be, my cautious, fun loving stream.

Little Buddy isn't there yet, we don't have the talks about what he sees, he is innocent still. Yes he will tell me about who does what in class, but it's his friends breaking crayons and flushing paper towels that gets him bothered and upset. He means well and is good, caring and sweet. But he's also my fast moving stream, Little Buddy is the small hole in a hose that has all the pressure of the full hose behind it. Waiting, yearning, needing to get out and learn, explore, do, see, take apart, put together, go go go go go go. He's the stream that has the potential to flood, run off course, break the banks, not on purpose, not because he sets out to, he is the stream that just happens.

You might not be able to "steer the river", but you can guide a stream...and that's what I'm doing.
Guiding the streams of my Mini Me and Little Buddy.
Providing them with the best tools to become the best people they can be.


So I will take what my father said, put my little spin on it, (well even more than it already has) and end with this.

Mini Me, Little Buddy,

I'm not doing this because it's fun, I'm doing this because I want to.
I'm doing this because I love you, both of you. Equally, differently, fantastically.
I am doing this to show you that life is better than you could ever imagine, but you have to work for it.
I am tough on you because the world is tough, and that's OK because you can handle it, you both can.
I might not do everything right, heck I know I make mistakes, and you will too. That is OK, keep trying.
You will never fail until you give up.
Be true to yourself, honest with your word and treat everyone with respect and kindness.
Lastly, be confident. There is no such thing as can't. You Can.

Flow my little streams. :)

xoxo
Momma

What is this "blog" you speak of...I think I'll try it.

Whelp, school started. The mad dash to pick up supplies is completed, lunch box requests are being, well, requested. New shoes still look new. Homework has hardly started and  I. Am. Pooped. 

A little back story:
I'd say I am new to this mom thing, being one, having one...12 + years experience with my first born, my Mini-Me, my Lala. No matter how hard I looked, how much I wished, no instructions to be found for her. I have messed up, but all parents do, right? I mean diaper rash happens, cuts, scrapes, tears happen...right? Right? Eh, she's a great kid, good head on her shoulders and she loves and trusts her crazy momma, as I love and trust her.

Whoops, jumping ahead.

 

So, I might have done this "First Day of School" thing myself, but differently. See I was raised by a single father. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it: well not EVERY minute, but as I sit here,  looking back fondly on the years I had with my daddy, I loved it. Reality, not so much, he was tough on me, expected a lot and there were times I just wanted to hang out, but he did his best and I am pretty dang amazing if I do say so myself. 

One thing I didn't get growing up was mom time. I had a step mom, or two...they were not maternal, we just didn't click. I was the son my father never had, yes I'm girly, but it's taken a while. Can I put on make-up, sure. But only after watching my girlfriends for YEARS. 

Can I do my hair, yes I can, but not well. The more important question is, do I do my hair...nope. It gets washed and then air drys, sometimes in a pony, sometimes in a bun. If I have time to fiddle, sure I'll play, singe some hairs, burn my fingers and toss it up while waving a white flag.

Here is where my very first blog post begins...

Mini Me: Mom, I have a question. *she begins every question she EVER asks with this precursor*

Momma: Of course you do, spill it. *At this point I am laughing, I hate this precursor of hers, yet I miss it when she listens and doesn't use it*

Mini Me: Will you curl my hair tomorrow morning.

Momma: *shudders* I will

Fast forward to morning

Mini Me: Still want to do my hair

Momma: Yes, show me how you want it

Mini Me: *whips out a pinterest pin*

Momma: Ummm, I wouldn't even know where to start or how!

A little side note, Mini Me has gorgeous, beautiful, long, thick hair. She did not get that from me. 

People stop her all the time and tell her how pretty it is. 

Momma: Baby, I can't do that

Mini Me: How about this one *shows another pic, not as difficult but still not possible, for me*

Momma: Ok so I'm going to disappoint you, I can't do this. I don't know how, I need lessons. I am failing you this morning and I'm sorry.

Mini Me: *sighs* It's ok momma

Moments later...

Mini Me: Can you do a sock bun?

Momma: Do you have a sock? 

At this point, I am still not dressed. I am making lunches, making breakfast, and trying to wake up Little Man. He is nocturnal, I decided. 

I am a wee bit stressed, my hair is all over the place (although I don't care) but I would like to get to work on time.

Mini Me: I don't, not one we can use.

Momma: Well baby, I can't make a sock bun without a sock. Maybe we should try and curl your hair the night before.

Mini Me: OK

I freaking love her. I feel awful, I feel like I always disappoint her. All she did was want my help with her hair, a little time with me in the morning. But I couldn't do it, I didn't do it. 

I feel like I need to go to beauty school to even go near my child's head. 

I cut her hair once...she begged me to. 

Little tip: Never listen to a 7 year old, especially when it comes to scissors with a red handle and an A-line. It's not gonna be pretty, or turn out anywhere close to how she's thinking it will. Eh, we live and learn, hair grows. 

So I send my sweet Mini Me off to school; after she beautifully does her hair. By herself. 

I pull my thin long hair into a pony and feel AWFUL, I should have done more.