Friday, March 2, 2012

Voodoo Theories

I plucked a white hair from my head the other day.  Not just gray, WHITE.  Joel was snoring snoozing peacefully, the boys were tucked in their beds, and I stood before the bedroom mirror in shocked silence at the fat, long and stark white thread that clung to my scalp.

Cael in the daisies, summer 2010
Oh, heck no.

I thought about trimming it so as not to damage the follicle but I immediately had visions of my backyard daisies.  Two summers ago, they grew tall enough to block the sun from reaching the black-eyed susans behind them.  With my garden shears I selectively trimmed the long and gangly stalks to reveal the younger, healthier daisies within.

In two weeks' time, the daisies were four feet tall, eight feet wide, and yelled profanities at me whenever I walked by. 

So here, many months later as I stood in front of the mirror contemplating follicide, I remembered my past mistakes, dropped the scissors and yanked the sucker clean out with my hand.

And I swear I heard a tiny whimper come through over the kids' monitor. I could have yanked another out to test the theory, but I didn't need proof.  I already knew that every time I pluck a gray, a tiny piece of Cael's essence dies along with it.

Kind of like a twisted take on "It's A Wonderful Life", without the life-altering moral and warm fuzzy feelings.

But what is it about young children that makes them find such delight in others' misfortune?  I have a theory.  Earlier this week I wrote about my kids' unnatural attachment to their stuffed animals, and an epiphany I had over the weekend may explain why. 

Maybe, late at night, when I think they're asleep but instead they are playing Blackjack or doing some amateur electrical work in the basement, they pull out their stuffed toys and plan out the day ahead.

"How will we torture Mommy tomorrow?" Cael might ask.

"Paint on Mommy's favorite shirt?"  Graham would suggest.

So then they would yank out Bloose or Barker, or maybe even one of the lesser-loved plush "pals" in their arsenal and subject it to that day's selected infraction, willing it to happen to me.  And then, sure enough, as we complete a "paint by number" that I lovingly selected as a fun activity to reward them for good behavior, bright blue paint gets splashed all over my cream-colored sweater.

I think this Mommy voodoo might also be to blame for the random and seemingly unrelated problems we've experienced in the last year.  Kitchen flood?  Stuffed animal in the toilet.  Crashed hard drive?  See aforementioned electrical work.

I could be wrong, of course.  Maybe it's pure luck, or maybe it's part of being a parent.  But one thing is for sure-- the cat is definitely out to get me.  Cross my heart and hope to die.

Well, I'd better not.


  1. Thankfully I've never found a gray hair....yet! I'm sure they're coming haha.

    1. I haven't before either, and I don't know why this one was stark white! I'm hoping that it was a freak natural thing that happened one day when I was REALLY shocked by Cael's behavior. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

  2. I agree with your voodoo theory! Does it apply to a 9 month old who never fails to wake up EXACTLY at the same time her mother is falling asleep and will ONLY fall asleep after her mother has given up all hope of ever having a good night's sleep? I always look at her blissfully slumbering and wonder... how does she know the exact moment to wake up and foil my beauty sleep? I mean, she even wakes up when I am in the middle of a very good dream and something extra good is going to happen, but no, I am not allowed to enjoy it! Oddly enough, she has never managed to wake up when Im in the middle of a horrid nightmare!!
    Oh dear, my comment looks like a blog post! Let us know if you find a way to unvoodoo these situations that bring grey hairs to our heads!

    1. Shaz- Ugh, that really stinks! I've been there, too... except that now my kids' specialty is to wake up just early enough that it's pointless to put them back to bed, but doesn't give me enough time to go back to sleep. How do they know that exact window!?

    2. It baffles even the most intelligent minds of all time! ;)


Leave your own "ism". Cael and Graham double-dog dare you.