I am feeling kind of proud of myself. I’m not usually one to sound my own horn, (or tweet it for that matter), but I have achieved what I thought was an impossible task.
I put Taylah’s hair into a bun.
To understand why that is impressive, we have to go back about a week and a half.
I was feeling kind of frustrated with my hair. It grows really quick when I’m pregnant, and so I was growing it long, which I haven’t done for years. It was nice for a change. I could do lots with it, and it looked awesome when I straightened it.
But the fact of the matter is that I am a mummy of four children, and thus do not have a lot of time to blow dry and straighten my hair every morning, so that I can spend the rest of the day worrying about if it still looks good. My hair routine in the morning, is shampoo, condition, brush, tie up.
No mess, no fuss.
But I was over it. Breastfeeding tends to dry out my hair a fair bit, and it probably wasn’t the healthiest anyway after multiple colour changes. So with the MIL up to watch the little tackers I went to the hair dresser to do something crazy.
I had in my head a plan to go with, which included going short with some layers, and maybe a whole bunch of different, but complimentary foils. I wasn’t really too fussed what I did, but I wasn’t going to go either red or black. Black because I’ve done that before, and whilst it did succeed in making me look like a vampire, I didn’t quite make the cut for the cast of Twilight. (Not pretty enough) And red because, well Tim doesn’t like it.
So I am sitting waiting for the hairdresser, flicking through magazines, and deciding on about four different styles that I am hoping she can merge into one, and her eyes light up. She just loves people doing new, radical things with their hair, and according to her, it doesn’t happen often enough that people say, ‘I’m ready for a change. What do you think we should do?’
So of course, what does she say? She suggests we go red. And not Nicole Kidman red, or Addison Montgomery from Private Practice red. Bright red. Rhianna type red.
I was skeptical. I’m not usually that crazy, and to be honest, I was terrified by what Tim might think. But I was also really ready for a change. My Antidepressents are working, I’ve lost all my baby weight, I have discovered the wonder of Lorna Jane clothing, and I wanted a new look.
So I did it. I cut it off and dyed it red.
And he loved it.
Better than that, I loved it. And whilst Taylah and Bridie were slightly skeptical at first, they too decided that they loved it. Yay! A big thumbs up from everyone.
Well this morning I took Taylah to get her hair cut, which is long overdue. She used to have this really long, golden blonde hair, but shortly before Christmas she cut it back to shoulder length. Since then it has grown substantially, so I asked her if she wanted to keep the length or go shorter again.
‘I want to cut it like yours,’ she said.
I was so touched. This is the highest compliment she could have ever paid me. Bridie is always asking if she can have my clothes when she is a mum, but for Taylah to ask if she could cut off a good seven inches of her hair to be like me? Well I could hardly say no.
My only concern was ballet. She is supposed to have her hair in a bun, and I didn’t want to incur the wrath of Miss Leisa, if we cut off all bun potential.
Well there are other short haired girls in the class, and the big performance is not till November which gives her plenty of time to grow it long enough for that, and I don’t want her life to be dictated by something like ballet, so we asked the hairdresser to cut it off.
This lady was slightly more conservative than my own scissor happy hairdresser, so it took some convincing on Taylah’s behalf to assure her that she really did want it done.
Twenty five minutes later, and enough blonde hair on the ground for a short wig later, Taylah left the hairdresser, looking just like me.
Except blonde, and shorter, with a different face.
Her hair looks great, and she loves it, but come time to get ready for ballet, I was wondering if we did the right thing. I can barely pull it together into a pony tail, let alone a bun!
I’ve never been great at doing hair. I was never one of those kids who braided my friend’s hair, or spent hours brushing Barbies. But the last almost eight years, and three daughters have taught me a thing or two, and it’s not often that the girls leave the house with their hair anything less than perfect.
And today was no exception.
Whilst her bun was tiny, (and I mean tiny), it was a bun nonetheless.
It is amazing what a woman can do given enough hairspray and Bobby pins.
So that is the source of my pride. That incredibly longwinded story, that was intended to be a brief recap, all to inform of my absolute joy in being able to inspire the imitation of my daughter, and still meet the requirements of her ballet teacher.
And to do hair, cause God knows, I never thought I could do that!
Hmmmm…They say pride comes before a fall. Maybe I shouldn’t boast to soon. She may decide she hates her hair, and ballet is nearly done, so she may come home with it everywhere.
But I guess if I post this now, you will never know!
PS Am posting this about five hours later cause kids woke up and life happened. But she came home from ballet and her hair was perfect, so yes I am awesome!
For today at least.