Pride Goeth Before the Haircut

I am the first one to admit that I don't have it all together.  This goes for all of life in general, but most assuredly with parenting.  I probably mess up more than I succeed, frankly, but I'm doing my best.  I am determined to be the Mom God has called me to be, to the best of my ability.  This determination is fueled sometimes by nothing other than sheer grit and caffeine, but always always always by love of my kids.  They deserve the best.  Rarely do I live up to it, but I try.  Heaven help me, I try.

This being said, I am no saint. (Shocking revelation, I know). I try not to be prideful, but two things have always been my downfall: the fact that 95% of the time, my kids at least looked nice (matching clothes and brushed hair), and that they had never, EVER attempted to cut their own hair.  When my friends' kids would butcher their hair, in the back of my mind, I would think to myself, "Thank goodness MY kids know better. I have put the fear of God into them regarding that particular activity, and they wouldn't dare."

Along with pride, I suffer from a distinct lack of humility.  I have been praying for that lately, asking God and the Panaghia to teach me humility.  But always, I ask them to please, PLEASE, teach it gently. Please.

Did you know pride and humility go hand in hand?  Somehow, this particular revelation escaped me, until recently.  Enter Friday night, when I walked upstairs to discover two of my beloved, well dressed children butchering their hair with a pair of scissors I had foolishly left in the bathroom, thinking they couldn't reach them.

Boom.  Pride demolished.  Lesson learned.

On a side note, I would just like to mention that my sisters and I purchased a family portrait session for my Mom's Christmas gift this year.  We are due to sit for the pictures in two weeks.  My older sister informed me (between spurts of laughter) that we would just look back on them and laugh in the coming years.  I hope so.  Thanks to the valiant effort of our very talented hairdresser, they don't look *quite* as ridiculous as they did.  But still.  It hurts.

I suppose there are far more painful ways to learn humility.  I am deeply thankful to God for honoring my request for gentle lessons.  And as I struggle to raise my kids, I know that they will continue to sand down my bumps, and teach me patience and humility.  I hope and pray I am always receptive to their efforts.

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