Moms, what are we doing with our hair these days?
I’m convinced I’ve had exactly two hairstyles my entire life, and I just rotate between them like they’re part of a custody agreement. If someone pulled out my high school yearbook, I’m not even sure I’d look all that different. It’s either long hair with side bangs or a chin-length bob with bangs. That’s it. Those are the options. Apparently I’ve found my comfort zone and signed a lifelong lease.
So, what are we doing as moms now? Because I’m stuck in 2012 wishing choppy emo hair was still expectable in this generation.
I understand keeping it short when you have newborns because there’s simply less hair for tiny, surprisingly strong hands to yank on. But these days? I don’t really do much with mine anyway. If it’s long, 90% of the time it ends up in the classic messy millennial bun. You know the one. It somehow says, I gave up, but in an aesthetically acceptable way.
Now I find myself debating whether I should cut the girls’ hair.
It’s so long and beautiful. Before you have daughters, you picture yourself gently brushing their hair while they sit sweetly like little princesses in a Disney movie. Yeah… let’s let reality set in on that one.
It’s more like chasing two wild raccoons that somehow learned how to sprint. The second they see the hairbrush, they take off screaming like I’ve announced broccoli for breakfast. By 8:00 a.m., my house sounds like a WWE championship match, and my nervous system has already clocked a full day’s work.
I struggle with this because I had long, long red hair until about first grade. Then, for my birthday, I told my mom I wanted a haircut. She let me make that choice, and for some reason I’ve always remembered that year. Haircut, ears pierced and Chucky Cheese birthday with my godmother.
I know my girls are only three, and realistically they probably couldn’t care less whether their hair is long or short. I’m the one washing it, brushing it, detangling it, and negotiating with tiny hostage-takers every single morning. Logically, it should be my decision.
But it still feels like I’m taking that choice away from them. Maybe that sounds silly.
I’ve always told myself that when my girls were old enough to have opinions about their hair, I wanted to honor them. If they want to dye it? Sure. If they want to cut it? Absolutely. If they decide they want a mohawk... mmm... okay, I guess. I reserve the right to silently question my life choices, but it’s still their hair.
Maybe I’ll change my mind when they’re older. Parenting has a funny way of humbling every strong opinion you ever had.
But hair feels personal. It’s such a big part of how we express ourselves and our identity. For some reason, that makes it feel a little off-limits for me to decide for them, even if they’re still too young to understand why.
So now I’m torn between preserving the beautiful long hair everyone compliments… and preserving my sanity before the morning hairbrush battles officially qualify as a redneck sport.
As for me? I’ll probably keep doing what I’ve always done in hopes the early 2000’s hair makes a comeback.
