My girls are old enough to do their own hair. For the most part, it comes out fine. They get plenty of feedback from my husband and I, as we are born critics. Most of the time they have very standard, neat ponytails. Our rule is to keep their hair pulled back, just about all the time. Now, this makes sense when they are in school, as tidy hair is a good preventative measure against lice and keeps them from distraction. But at home, we also are constantly asking them to pull it back. Otherwise, it seems that the ends of their hair hang down into their food or get caught in their mouths….it’s gross. So, yes, boring daily ponytail.
This got me thinking back to my youth. I was extremely creative with hairstyles. Braids, French and regular, buns, single or double, braided buns, barrettes, shiny and matte, with ribbons and without, curling irons and blow dryers, hot rollers, side parts, center parts…you get the picture. My sister, mom and I were rather girly and we enjoyed this beautifying process. So when did I lose this? When I started jamming a hat on my head? When did I run out of time for them?
And I also recall that when the girls were very young and did need my help with their hair, I very exasperatingly would sigh, maybe throw in an eye roll, and roughly tug through their tangles. I couldn’t get it done soon enough so we wouldn’t be late in the morning. No wonder they would pull away from me. No wonder they learned at a fairly early age to quickly fashion a boring, standard ponytail. Check off the box and go.
I have compassion for them, as they missed out on a nice moment for connection. I have compassion for myself, as I was doing the best I could managing 4 little ones on busy mornings, often alone. But the fact is, they missed out. We missed out.
They are growing up. Faster and faster it seems every day. Now, with everyone independent, I have a bit more time. Now, whenever there is the opportunity, I consciously brush their hair, with the utmost gentleness and love. Even if I’m fashioning a standard ponytail. Sometimes we even have time for them to brush my hair. This feels like a little slice of heaven on earth. They are also gentle and loving. Even the boys. It’s so special and if they have learned how to touch one another with gentleness, caring and love, then maybe I didn’t do too bad. Maybe, I’ve been able to make up for the harried actions of the past?
If you have the time, love and patience, a hairbrush can be a transformative tool for connection. Connection we are all craving. Is there anything more nurturing than that?