There's a raucous upstairs. I hear stomping, crying, yelling and more crying. Yet I sit serenely at the computer ignoring all the noise. Why am I so callous? Because I know that my daughter is merely brushing her hair and I've learned through careful research that no one has ever died from brushing their hair. Although from the sound of it, you'd think that statistic would be changing very soon.
It's a good thing I have a couple of boys. Girls having lots of hair just adds more drama. And girls are very accomplished at adding drama to just about anything. Like getting shoes on. You'd think that's a no brainer. Not in my house. In my house it is apparently a requirement to cry when asked to get shoes on. So you can imagine the trauma that goes into doing the girls hair.
For a while, I got all creative and cute. I would spend time looking for cute hairstyles online and I'd practice on(torture)my girls. It didn't take very long for me to see the disadvantage to that. More crying. It's not worth it. They just get to look like ragamuffins. I'm ok with that and have learned it is not a reflection of my parenting skills. Though I do occasionally envy those moms with the perfect looking children.
So when I finally go upstairs to help Lillie with her hair and I ask what she wants today, she replies through tears, "a ponytail". "Fine", I think. The less time in the bathroom doing hair, the better.
Maybe I could shave all of their heads. Start a new trend. Ok, I'm not that mean, but I can dream can't I?