NEW CASTLE —
Fair enough, you may be thinking. Hair is kind of a big part of a person’s identity.
But, it doesn’t end with the hair.
I can no longer just pick up a box of cereal at the store. It has to be the PERFECT one. I have to consider the ounces, the sugar, the mess it will make when my toddler crushes it beneath her feet. I can’t just get any cereal, it has to be right.
I also find myself picking out my church clothes the night before, planning birthday dinners MONTHS before and writing things like “paint my toenails, “wash my hair,” “feed the cats,” and “return the Redbox” on my calendar.
It probably sounds crazy that I need to set aside time to paint my nails if I want them to be painted or wash my hair, and years ago I would have thought the same thing. But, somehow the hours of the day fly by, enveloped in routine and habit and unless I allot the 10 minutes for shampooing and conditioning, it just cannot occur.
Some mornings I look in the mirror and wonder, “Who are you?” And with that comes a shattering realization: I am my mother.
I am now doing all of the things that I deemed to be ridiculous when I was growing up.
My criticisms of her non-impulsive, fastidious behavior are coming back to haunt me.
Ahhh, the circle of life.