We're just not that kind of people, or excuses for slovenliness

I hate to lump all the members of my family together or to define the kids according to my terms, but I have to face the fact that the four of us are not elegant folk. We're not naturally polished people. There are several reasons for this.

A. I'm lazy and its easier not to brush your hair and iron your clothes.
B. I genuinely enjoy a new bohemian/ urban grunge look, and I think its more comfortable for the kids.
C. When the kids aren't perfectly groomed, I don't fret about them getting messy which is better for everyone because they are always messy.

And D. we're just not that kind of people.

Case in point: Seconda's hair.

I see girls in her class arrive at school with perfectly radiant and lustrous bobs, hair that belongs in a Pantene commercial, or lovely cascades of curls with well-placed bows in the front. Hair is swept away from girls' faces with headbands featuring large roses on the side or braided neatly down the back.

My kid always looks like a total ragamuffin with her hair literally sticking out straight from her head, as shown above. Its not for lack of trying. I do actually invest a laughable amount of time trying to pull her hair out of her face because, though I don't mind a slovenly appearance in general, it does drive me INSANE in the membrane when anyone - kids or adults - have hair in thier eyes. Its just one of my pet peeves. So I try to convince her to wear hairclips -- I've bought a tons of beautiful little barrettes -- but invariably, she tosses them on the floor somewhere when I'm not looking and that's that.

She does tolerate are braids, but seeing as she cut her own hair a few months ago, right in the front of her head, it is a challenge to braid it together, even in the French style, which as I think I've mentioned before, I am expert in. All I can manage is a thin, tiny braid on the side of her head, approximately the width of a piece of dental floss, and that ends up sticking straight out like I've put a wire in it

Today, I was pushing her in the stroller to school, looking at that ridiculous little Pippi Longstocking braid and wondering if I should take the time to stop the stroller and try to redo it. At that moment, we passed a little girl with the most impoeccable pigtails, exactly like the kid on the Coppertone bottle. I had preschooler hair envy.

But, as I said, we're not that kind of family.

"Fuck it," I thought, "She's just a friggin' kid."

And frankly, I love that ridiculous Pippi Longstocking 'do. Wouldn't trade it for Rapunzel's braid. So there.

My daughter cut her own hair

We knew this day was bound to come. In fact, I’m just glad she didn’t MY hair while I slept. Although I’m not saying that isn’t probable in the near future.

We were walking to school last week, and I was regarding her angelic face with fondness when I noticed something looked different.

“Is her hair layered?” I wondered. I knew it wasn’t done under my supervision but my parents had recently taken her for the weekend and this is precisely the sort of thing they like to do. It’s one of the small ways the wrest for control of my children. Last year, they decided Seconda should be wearing a bob and returned her to me with 2 inches shorn off her hair. I was just about to call my mom and read her the riot act when I saw that the haircut was way too ragged, way too wild to be my father’s handiwork.

“Sec, did you cut your hair?”

The great thing about 3 year-olds is that even when they lie compulsively, they still don’t do it well. She gave me a wide-eyed, faux-innocent look that could only mean one thing.

“Mommy won’t be mad, honey,” I bait her, “Just tell Mommy the truth.”

“I HAD to cut my hair Mommy,” she said, “It was too long long long!”

“When did you do it?” I asked.

“When I was going to sleep,” she replied.

Of course. Bedtime is the perfect opportunity to experiment with new, verboten hobbies. When ELSE would one try to cut one’s own hair?

I told her that I completely understood where she was coming from, but that from now on, she’d have to ask me and we’d find her a suitable doll to practice her shearing on. Because, honestly, she didn’t do a bad job. She may very well have a gift here. The next Vidal Sassoon. And I’ve always wanted a stylist in the family.