For the first year of my daughter’s life, I reveled in adorning her little head. We had stretchy headbands in every color imaginable, an abundance of oversized flowers, and my absolute favorite—a red satin ribbon with a perfectly tied bow that made her look just like a baby princess. When we grew tired of headbands, hats took center stage because, honestly, nothing is cuter than babies in hats.
But then, she grew hair.
Initially, this was a delightful change. We embraced the toddler pigtails with enthusiasm, and I felt confident in my styling abilities. However, as we transitioned into preschool, I was confronted with a harsh truth: I am terrible at doing hair.
I should’ve seen the signs. Growing up in the era of mall hairstyles, I was the only girl in my class sporting a limp, lifeless style. While others sported gravity-defying bangs, mine lazily flopped to the side. I never bothered with curling irons, Dippity-do, or that grape-scented spritz that turned hair into a plastic wrap nightmare. After enduring a spiral perm at my mom’s insistence—something I loathed—I settled into adulthood with just two hairstyles: long and straight, or bobbed and straight. According to every beauty magazine, I was also blow-drying my hair wrong, as I had no clue what “ends” meant; I mistook them for roots. Eventually, I gave up blow-drying altogether, resulting in a look reminiscent of Samara from The Ring.
By the time my daughter was three, her hair had grown into a wild mane that could only be described as caveman-esque. I often found myself reassuring strangers that my child wasn’t raised by wolves, nor was I about to crawl out of a TV screen and terrify anyone.
I have no idea what a diffuser does. I can’t use a round brush without needing to cut it out of my hair, and don’t even get me started on hot rollers, sea salt spray, or dry shampoo—those concepts completely elude me. The only hair-related thing I excel at is removing gum (pro tip: use oil).
One day, a fellow preschool mom casually suggested detangler, and my entire perspective shifted. It felt like a major breakthrough. But then my daughter, at age four, came home asking for “beachy waves.” Even more concerning, she correctly pronounced “ombre.” Before long, her requests escalated to fishtails, mermaid hair, and something called a “waterfall twist.”
“Mommy, can you give me a topknot with a bow made from my own hair?” she asked.
If you’re wondering where she learned all this, the answer is simple: YouTube and her classmates, who seem to be obsessed with hair-braiding tutorials. These kids can barely color within the lines, yet they know the difference between a Dutch and a French braid—skills I have yet to master.
I’m putting in the effort. I genuinely want to make my daughter happy, and I hope she’ll look back on her childhood photos fondly, rather than with horror at the spiral perm I avoided styling in 1989. I’m determined to learn how to style hair, partly for her sake and partly because I enjoy a good challenge.
I’m proud to report that I can now manage a sock bun thanks to one of those “As Seen on TV” Hot Buns gizmos. It actually works! My bathroom now boasts more hair products than I’ve owned in my entire life combined, and I’m still figuring out how to use them.
Every morning, I practice with my daughter as my willing participant. We laugh and plan our day while I attempt to braid, twist, and clip. She tells me what she envisions, and I try my best to deliver. Admittedly, my results often resemble a series of bumps and tangles that fall apart within minutes, but I persevere! I keep watching tutorials.
Just yesterday, she asked for a crown of braids around her head.
“Settle down, Milk Maid of the Alps,” I joked, but I gave it a try anyway. She looked more like a frenzied Frida Kahlo than Heidi, but she thought it was beautiful, and that’s what truly counts.
Progress may be slow, but it is happening. Realistically, my daughter and I might not become Instagram hair influencers, but that’s not the point. It’s about bonding, learning together, and demonstrating that practice leads to improvement. Okay, maybe not perfection, but perhaps one day I’ll execute a respectable side ponytail fishtail.
For more insights on motherhood and the journey of parenting, check out this article for inspiration, or explore options for boosting fertility with these supplements. Additionally, if you’re looking for comprehensive information on pregnancy journeys, this resource is an excellent read.