Monday, June 11, 2012

On Having Girls

My two older sisters and some of my friends have only boy children, and I imagine that if I had only boys, I might be jealous one of the things you get to do with girls - brushing their long hair and putting it up in braids, ponytails and other styles.
I too had this dream. When I had G I thought that I'd soon learn how to french braid and had visions of cute little pigtails.
There is a lovely vision I had and maybe moms of boys have it - sitting in the sunlight, calmly brushing your daughters hair, laughing together as you braid it, her bouncing away looking adorable.

The reality (for me at least) is this: G wakes up in the morning with a rat's nest on her head. She dips the ends of it in her cereal bowl because she cannot handle tucking it behind her ears. After she gets dressed, I attempt to brush it. The moment she sees the hairbrush she says "OW!". I haven't touched her. I beg her to come sit on my lap. She runs to the other side of the apartment. I finally wrestle her into my lap and run my fingers along her neck to move her hair. "YOU'RE HURTING ME!!" she screams.
The rat nest (always in the exact same location on her head) is the first plan of attack and I attempt to hold her on my lap with one hand, brush with the other and use my third and fourth hands to hold the hair while I brush it.
She wiggles free.
"Stop it Mommy! I don't want my hair brushed!"
"Look at these fancy barrettes (bobbles, headband, etc.)? Don't you want them in your hair?"
"When the wind blows  your hair in your face, you'll be sad, G."
"I don't care about the wind!"
At this point she runs away. I have three options. I can either put the messiest ponytail ever in her hair (and suffer the consequences when it's time for it to come out), I can leave it and suffer the consequences when we go outside and the wind blows her hair in her face and she can't see, or I can turn on the TV and usually she'll hold still long enough to get a nice enough hairstyle in (never a braid, never, ever a braid).
Or, I suppose, there is a fourth option. I could shave her head. Some days I want to do exactly that.

A footnote to this all is that M finally has long enough hair that I can put it in pigtails, but she has learned from her sister that the proper word to use while Mommy is doing your hair is "Ow!" She says it now with a smile on her face, but give her time.

Secondary footnote: My mom is reading this and laughing at me. Probably laughing quite hard. I was exactly like this as a kid. In fact, to be honest, I still don't love people touching my head. I completely deserve to be treated like this.

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