Ever since I found out I was going to be a parent, I knew that I would, without a doubt, let my children feel free to be themselves. Their quirks and personalities, likes and dislikes -- they are free to flaunt them and I do not try to stifle them. Lefties are welcome, just like kids with blue hair (maybe?) and opposing political views.
Then the other day I realized that Husband and I actually haven't been doing that. G has some thin, fine, wildly untamable hair and everyday we run the gamut of detangler, soaking every layer and picking through the snarls, combing it out. "De-constructing the nest" is what we call it. It's definitely a process -- one that goes completely AWOL about ten minutes later. Inevitably I end up combing her whole head about three more times each day. If I don't do this, G’s hair looks like a pack of rabid squirrels ran through it while trying to find a place to nest. Seriously. I would not be surprised if one day I saw a pair of beady little eyes glaring out at me from that blond halo of hair.
Why are we trying to suppress and tame G's hair so much? Friends, family and neighbors glance sideways at her hair each time they spy her. "What are we going to do with it?" ask members of our family... as if it a detriment to national security or something.
Finally I decided to say "F*** it!". It's her hair. That is the way she is and trying to comb it down only shows G that I am trying to change who she is and that's not what I want her to learn from me.
Am I reading too much into it? Maybe, possibly, probably. But think back to how many of us have tried to change ourselves to conform to what society deems acceptable. Are we ever as happy as we think we should be when we do conform? The answer is usually no.
Then the other day I realized that Husband and I actually haven't been doing that. G has some thin, fine, wildly untamable hair and everyday we run the gamut of detangler, soaking every layer and picking through the snarls, combing it out. "De-constructing the nest" is what we call it. It's definitely a process -- one that goes completely AWOL about ten minutes later. Inevitably I end up combing her whole head about three more times each day. If I don't do this, G’s hair looks like a pack of rabid squirrels ran through it while trying to find a place to nest. Seriously. I would not be surprised if one day I saw a pair of beady little eyes glaring out at me from that blond halo of hair.
Why are we trying to suppress and tame G's hair so much? Friends, family and neighbors glance sideways at her hair each time they spy her. "What are we going to do with it?" ask members of our family... as if it a detriment to national security or something.
Finally I decided to say "F*** it!". It's her hair. That is the way she is and trying to comb it down only shows G that I am trying to change who she is and that's not what I want her to learn from me.
Am I reading too much into it? Maybe, possibly, probably. But think back to how many of us have tried to change ourselves to conform to what society deems acceptable. Are we ever as happy as we think we should be when we do conform? The answer is usually no.
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