The Hair Warrior

Remember the feral kid in Mad Max 2, the one with the wild hair who growled at Max’s awesome dog and wielded a mean boomerang? Yes, that one.  And while we’re remembering that kid, remember when Mel Gibson looked like this? I’ll take a moment to reminisce and reflect on crushes of childhood past. Oh how things have changed.

Anyhow, that particular feral movie character has been popping into my mind more and more frequently when I’m hanging out with my daughter. No, I’m not saying my child is feral. In fact, far from it because at three and a half Gigi plays well with others and is very civilized. But is her hair feral? Well, maybe. Often Sometimes the feral kid from Mad Max fame has a tamer hairdo than my girl.

To say my daughter gets tangles is putting it mildly. My girl gets freakin’ complicated knots that would stump a sailor and as the parent who is supposed to keep her presentable for public viewings, I am completely at my rope’s end (an accidental pun and I’m leaving it in.) We’ve tried all those different kid’s conditioners that promise no more tangles or no more tears and I say “HA!” to them all. Nothing has worked but a whole lot of tears, an arsenal of spray-in conditioners of various fruity scents, some more protests from the hair owner, a gentle hand and a parent wielding a comb.

My gut reaction when her hair gets really bad is to cut it off. Not bald just something nice, short and sassy just like my pixie / Dorothy Hamill hybrid from grade two. I know that as her parent I should just take charge, march her down to the local Melonheads and be done with it -- but I can’t. I can’t because my daughter loves her hair, and she loves to twirl her hair, and like some kids have a security blanket or stuffed toy, my daughter has her hair. Ever since her hair was long enough to pull, any time Gigi gets nervous, tired, or lost in thought she starts to twirl her hair. Sometimes she becomes so lost in her twirling, her fingers get stuck in the complicated knots she creates and someone has to help her untangle her hostage digit.

At first I tried to curb the habit but then I remembered my leg shake. From the earliest time I can remember, if I’m lost in thought, tired, feeling worked up, or antsy, out comes my leg shake, usually my right. People sometimes ask me if I have to pee and it drives my sister nuts but that doesn’t stop it; I barely know I am doing it.

I figure if a little nervous habit does no real harm, isn’t a huge social faux-pas, and not illegal to do in public, it really shouldn’t be a big deal. Heck, I’m the one who can’t stand seeing these knots on the back of her head (never on the front or side, always the back) and she doesn’t care one bit.

Each time we do go to the hair salon, she gets the blunt cut above the shoulders instead of the short & sassy even though I know that a short & sassy would not hold a starter dreadlock for long. The last time we went for a cut, she made me promise that we wouldn’t cut it short like her friend with a mother who obviously puts her foot down on tanglefoolery.  My bad for suggesting to Gigi that it might be a good idea to go short before the appointment instead of just instructing the stylist to take it off. I had to promise Gigi “no short cut” just to get her through the door.

So now I’m stuck: I have a beautiful young girl with a rat’s nest for hair and she has my brain/heart manipulated past the point of me being able to be the so-called adult who can take control and remove her strands of security to be done with the problem.

But I can’t. I can’t because I don’t want to be the person who does that and is that so wrong?

Yup. I’m a goner when she’s a teenager.

Image from Clover_1’s photostream on flickr

This is an original post to Canada Moms Blog. Katie can be found at her personal blog of confusion otherwise known as motherbumper.