Part of the reason I regularly ride the crazy train is my children, with last night being a perfect example. Rather than having a lovely, well deserved sleep, my brain decided 2am would be the perfect time to analyze:
1. My reaction to the hair cut
2. The possible reactions D will receive at school this morning and the fall out as she is hyper sensitive on a good day
3. Do I provide morning prep or let life happen?
4. Will the fallout permanently damage her self esteem and encourage her need for approval rather than risk taking?
5. Is the fact that I am laying there even thinking about this more of an issue impacting her self esteem than anything I could possible think up on my own?
Just before I fell asleep, I let go of the analyzing by determining that I was a full fledged Micro-analyst Talent Fairy. If this term doesn’t mean anything to you, a little reading of the Disney Fairies series is in order, specifically Prilla.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=disney+fairy .
Prilla doesn’t know what her true calling in life is, (ie: talent) and tries really hard to fit into a number of different occupations. Sounds familiar. The light bulb went off this morning, and I believe I have finally found my talent. Yet I digress from my ride on the crazy train.
When she asked me if I thought her hair looked silly, I lied and said “No.” I don't want her to constantly be seeking my approval, even though a No is still a response/approval. My other choices included telling her what I really thought (yes), yet I gave her the one I knew she wanted to hear to keep her feeling confident, or provide the “What mommy thinks is not important” speech. She would have quickly clued in that I did think her hair looked silly and she would have felt bad and second guessed herself (which might not have been a bad thing the next time she headed for a pair of scissors). Obviously there is no "right" answer here, but it is fun to torture myself in to believing a I should have one. When I asked her if she liked it, she replied “Yes, I think I look beautiful. Miss Laila (her teacher) won’t even recognize me!” Now I was in a really tough spot because her self esteem was quite high over the ordeal and given her sensitive nature, sure to be crushed quite easily. I didn’t want to be the one to do it, nor the one to criticize her and impede her already limited risk taking efforts, by pointing out how she may do it better next time (like leave it a little lower than her hair line!). I debated having a role play over how she was going to handle it if someone told her she looked funny (which I anticipate one her classmates would suggest), and then give the speech about her thoughts being the only one that mattered but knew that she would then start to feel anxious, regretting her decision to cut her hair in the first place, which she was currently very proud about. I knew she was feeling very proud when the neighbour (a father of 3 teen girls) was wise enough to say “Your haircut looks very pretty” and she replied with a smile and “I know.” Oh to have that confidence all the time! Without concluding what the "best" option could have/would have been given a do over, I gave up an moved on to Prilla.
This morning, I gave her teacher the heads up that she was feeling very proud of her haircut, to which Miss Laila responded that she hadn’t even noticed. D’s hair is so short it looks no different than when she pulls it back with a clip. She doubted anyone would even notice or care, but asked how D felt about it and if she did it herself. Knowing sweet D as she does, she quickly understood how a nuclear meltdown may occur if D received negativity towards her new doo . . . .
I’m eager to see what D reports at the end of the day. In the meantime, I’ll research future career options for people who share my love for analysis!
