There are tears, too. Our daughter only just turned nine, but she already knows how to twist the knife. Even though I’ve worked steadily since she was six weeks old, this is my first summer as a full-time, work-from-home, nine-to-five employee.
When our son got a haircut in the summer before Grade 3, we had no idea he wouldn’t let scissors touch it until almost the end of Grade 5.
Growing his hair long was never something he planned. It just kept growing, little by little, and he kept preferring to keep it that way. It spilled over his eyes until it could be tucked behind his ears, and it crept over his collar and past his shoulders until it was halfway down his back.
People asked him when he’d cut it, and he’d shrug. They’d ask how long he planned on growing it, and he’d shrug again. He really didn’t know.
His hair grew so long that he grudgingly agreed to wear it in a ponytail for taekwondo because it was uncomfortable having it hang over his neck, thick and sweaty. It started to tangle when I brushed it in the mornings before school, and he hated that, too.
When I measured it and told him it was long enough to donate to a charity that makes wigs for sick children, he loved the idea and decided we should book a haircut. We divided it into rubber bands, just like the donation website specified, and I held my breath while our stylist chopped off his long, thick hair.
Happy Saturday, friends!
I was doing online Zumba this morning in my home office, looking at a framed cross-stitch I have just behind my monitor, and thinking “Wow, it’s been forever since I cross-stitched anything.”
I knew I’d have some couch time today because we had two of our daughter’s online dance recitals to watch via Zoom (lots of Zoom happening today in this house!), so I was exercising and thinking of what I might stitch.
I have a barely-started piece that says “F*CK COVID,” but it’s on black canvas and I quickly abandoned it at the start of the pandemic because it was hard to see the squares. So I started thinking about what I might start, and if there was a new pandemic-y phrase I might like hanging up somewhere.
So after Zumba, I whipped up a simple little design in Paint (yes, the same program I used as a kid to doodle jpegs of figure skaters and screw around with the spray paint tool) and started stitching on some pale blue aida fabric from my stash.
Please feel free to download the pattern, print it out, and stitch it yourself for personal use, but not for sale. If anyone asks you to make them one, tell them you’ll do it in exchange for convincing five people to get vaccinated. (Joking, but not really.)
Happy stitches, b*tches! Love you all! xo