The Tangled Web

Last night I was ready for bed at 11:30 which is kind of a record for me, but I hadn’t been feeling well the night before so I was a bit sleep-deprived. I promised my sweetie that I would finish my blog and head to bed as quickly as possible. Besides, this thing with Sport’s arm had me really stressed and worried (I took him to the doc, btw and she put him on oral antibiotics. The swelling is now 10 inches long and 6 ½ inches wide. If the swelling isn’t down by tomorrow it will be another trip to Primary’s). I had just finished reading my last bloggy friend post, gathered the baby, and turned to head upstairs. That’s when the Prima Donna showed up. But she didn’t look much like a Prima Donna. She looked like something from an 80s monster flick. "Mom," she whined. "Can you help me with this?" She had wrapped the entire front part of her hair around a curling iron brush! The handle and the cord swung loosely toward the floor, but most of the bristles were totally wrapped in her long brown locks.

"What did you do?" My voice raised a little too high for the late hour, but I was exhausted and my patience was wearing thin. "I just wanted to see how this curling iron worked," she stated matter-of-factly. I reached for the rod. It was cold. "Did you even plug it in?" I asked. "No, I was going to figure out how to wrap it first," she said. I rolled my eyes and began tugging at her hair. The hair barely moved. This was not going to be an easy task. I handed the baby off to the Dog Walker and began tugging with a vengeance. This was so not fair! It was my night to get to bed before midnight.

Fifteen minutes later the hair had budged very little. "How did this get so bad?" I wanted to scream in frustration. "Well," she said, "When I couldn’t get it right out, I tried to brush it out…I think that made it worse," she trailed off. "Ya’ think?!" I was ready to get out the scissors, so I sent her over to have the Drama Queen give it a try. Less than five minutes later she was back. The Drama Queen suggested baby oil and some scissors.

Good riddance!

The Prima Donna had an even sillier suggestion, "Do you think if we plug it in it might help?" "Yeah," I answered sarcastically, "Then I’ll burn my fingers trying to do an impossible task." After another 20 minutes, I reached for the scissors. I know I’m the meanest mom on earth, but I started snipping. "You’re cutting my hair?" she wailed. I didn’t answer right away, because I thought she deserved to suffer a little. I was actually snipping all the little black balls from the ends of the curling iron brush. I was thinking that without them I might be able to slide the hair down and off the end.

"Do you think maybe a bobby pin would help?" questioned the Prima Donna hopefully. The Drama Queen was watching and offered, "Yeah, then you’d just have a bobby pin stuck too!" I snipped a few more balls. "You aren’t cutting my hair, are you?" Prima Donna asked accusingly. "How do you know?" I snipped some more. "’Cause little black balls are falling all over me," she said. I tugged harder. After a total of 72 minutes, I finally slid the last of the hair from the end of the devastated curling iron. As I dangled its sad and broken body over the garbage can, I bid it a grateful farewell.

It took the Prima Donna another 20 minutes to comb out the rat’s nest (littered with little black balls) that it left in her hair. She sent me a picture text just before I turned off my light. I glanced at the clock…1:00 AM. My sweetie would be unhappy. Oh the tangled web we weave…well, somebody did something with a tangled web...I'm just too tired to know who!