The Problem of Hair

I never was one to spend a lot of time on my hair. To me its a nice thing to have, I enjoy the fact that its there on top of my head, keeping me warm and making my face look more balanced, but I was never the girl blowdrying, adding product, crimping, curling, ironing, or whatever it is girls do to make themselves look all hair-tastic. Maybe its because my arms get really tired in that up position, or maybe looking in the mirror reminds me of all of the other things I need to get done, but hair never really made the top of my to-do list.
Kid #1. Boy. Sigh of relief. Not much to do there - just run a fine tooth comb through it and its done. The thing with boys is that other people don't tend to expect too much from their hair. Boys will be boys, as they take various gooey things and smear them into their hair. A trip to the store following one of those smear incidents would include knowing looks from passerbys, as they sympathize by the terrible condition of the terrible twos.
Kid #2. Girl. Uh oh. And its worse than can be imagined.
My daughter doesn't just have curly hair. She IS the electric socket girl. Not one strand of her hair goes in the same direction as the rest. Most of her hair is curly except for the pieces that stand straight out like they are receiving radio signals.
There aren't enough fine tooth combs on the planet to make her hair behave. Some mornings, I will bathe her and put in detangler spray . As I try and comb through, she shreiks and then she's off running. My son is usually right behind, pushing and kicking, having a wild good time being way too physical for my tastes. Playtime wins the day and the battle with the hair is lost.
Her hair can be clean and perfectly done with a pretty little ribbon and the people in the stores will stop and stare, wondering why I haven't taken that magic hair class that new parents were all supposed to take. (didn't get the memo, whoops.)
All of this was supposed to be in the "So you want to be a Parent Book." I never wanted to be a hair person. And now there are two reasons why I have to be. Being a parent changes you in ways you never wanted to change.
Angry Housemom