The Honesty of a Child

I’ve been struggling with my postpartum hair for a while now.   About 3 months after Toby was born I experienced The Great Hormonal Shift during which I suddenly realized that my life was OVER and my hair started to fall out.

Two months later, I realized life wasn’t OVER it was just DIFFERENT, and my hair started growing back in.

Unfortunately, I have been cursed AND blessed with crazy curly hair that has a mind of its own.  And when half of it suddenly decides to grow back in it comes back with a vengeance.   A vengeance that there is only one word to describe : a mullet.

You may not have RECOGNIZED it as such because I have gone to GREAT lengths to disguise it, but if you are one of the “lucky” few who get to see me first thing in the morning or  2 hours after a shower with no aesthetic intervention, you’d see it and be HORRIFIED.  I am not normally vain or much of a time-spender-on-my-looks, but in my attempts to conceal my hair’s act of rebellion, I bought a hair straightener, multiple hair products and more bobby pins than Toby could swallow in a day.

So now my hair is back to semi- normal  (in that it is now express itself in 45 degree angles, not he usual 90 degrees) but I find I’m still lost somewhere in the middle between iron straight hair and insanely curly hair.  My preference is the straight look – then if the mullet rears its ugly head I can use a few bobby pins to tame it.  But this involves time and energy.  The wash and go and lets-just-see-what-my-curls-have-in-store-for-today is MUCH easier, and after some reassurance on the part of my work colleagues and husband, I’ve decided to go with that look for a change of pace.

My first few days at work with my new curly do were better than I thought.  I didn’t get any gasps of horror, and I even got a few compliments.  I was feeling quite good about myself when I got home from work yesterday and Toby had a look at the new me.

Kids are honest.  Even if they’re only 13 months old and unable to talk to you, they have a candid ability to let you know EXACTLY what they’re thinking.  As I sat down on the floor next to him and started to read him a book he looked up at me and GRINNED as if to say, “mom, you look silly”.  Checking to be sure it was OK first, he then tentatively reached his hand out to “touch” the curls. And then, realizing that touching the INSANITY on my head WASN’T going to get him into trouble, he squealed with delight and did what we ALL want to do with curly hair – BOING.

And so I have a new “do” and Toby has a new “game”.  And even if everyone else thinks my hair is CRAZY at least I know I’m getting ONE honest opinion.  And at the VERY least I’ll now get an extra 20 min in my day to play “BOING” with my son and not fight with my hair.