Long hair. If you are the mother of daughters, you know what I mean. Hair has been a longtime issue here – the weeping and wailing, the gnashing of teeth, the tangles… oh the tangles.
Now, I am mostly a longtime short hair lover. Odd, huh? Considering all my girls have almost always had long hair. I had long hair once. Okay twice. There was that summer I was ten. I look at the pictures and think what great blonde waves they were. There were also Farrah bangs and huge 80’s eyeglasses, but we’ll overlook that.
I also grew my hair long as an adult. I stopped cutting it after Sarah was born and let it grow out. I’d get it trimmed every couple years or so, but it refused to grow past my shoulders and was so thick, the top layer held down the waves underneath. It also started morphing into a mousy brown. I hated brushing it, hated styling it even more.
I cut it short again after my grandmother died. Seemed a good time.
This brings me to the other day, even though it’s not about my hair. I’ve always let the girl’s hair grow long and straight and trimmed it myself. Every so often they’d go to a salon for something different, but mostly I trimmed it. Until the two older girls were teens, now I don’t touch their hair. And neither of them really do too much styling with their hair either.
Emma’s hair has always been an issue. So fine, so blonde and SO prone to tangles. I swear we brush her hair. It looks like we didn’t roughly 20 minutes after we do. It also takes 30 minutes of screaming to get it done, which is why we all get reluctant to do it. Yes, we have taken turns. That’s just for brushing it. Barrettes, clips, and ponytails are mostly out of the question. Besides, her hair is so thin and fine, it falls out in … you guessed it… twenty mintues.
So after a week of pleading, cajoling, lectures, reminders and who knows what else we said, Dad finally laid down the law in a little chat.
“If you don’t get your hair brushed, then we’re going to have to cut it.” This is the bottom line. It has been meeted out before. They all know if Dad says it, it will happen.
“I always wanted short hair!”
Our collective jaws indeed hit the floor. The next day, after we confirmed she was still gung-ho about it, I cut her hair into a chin-length bob. It had been down to the middle of her back and went below her waist when she tipped her head up. I now have a hank of what I removed waiting in an envelope.
She’s happy and looks adorable, and I’m happy it’s easier to brush. Win/win all around.