For the initial year of my daughter’s existence, I reveled in adorning her tiny head. Our collection included stretchy headbands in every hue, an abundance of oversized flowers, and my personal favorite—a red satin ribbon tied in a perfect bow that transformed her into a mini Snow White. As we moved past headbands, hats became our new obsession; really, is there anything cuter than a baby in a hat?
But then, she grew hair.
At first, this was a delightful novelty. We embraced the pint-sized pigtails, and I felt confident in my styling abilities—until we entered the preschool years, where I faced a harsh truth: I’m terrible at hairstyling.
I should have anticipated this. Growing up in the age of mall hairstyles, I was the only girl whose hair hung limply while others sported gravity-defying bangs. I never bothered with curling irons, Dippity-do, or sprays that smelled like grape and turned hair into a sticky mess. My mother insisted on a spiral perm, which I despised, and since then, my adult hairstyles have been limited to long and straight or bobbed and straight. According to countless women’s magazines, I have been blow-drying my hair incorrectly for years, confusing the “ends” with the roots. Thus, I abandoned blow drying altogether, resulting in a look reminiscent of Samara from The Ring.
By the time my daughter turned three and boasted a full mane, she resembled a child from the Stone Age. Picture every depiction of prehistoric children, and that was my reality. I often had to reassure strangers that, no, my daughter was not raised by wolves, and no, I wasn’t about to crawl out of a TV screen to haunt them.
The concept of a diffuser is lost on me, and I can’t handle a round brush without resorting to scissors to free it from my scalp. Don’t even get me started on hot rollers, salt spray, or dry shampoo (the very idea is baffling). The sum total of my hair knowledge is how to remove gum (just use oil—thank me later).
One day, a fellow preschool mom kindly suggested detangler, and my entire perspective shifted when I started applying it to my daughter’s hair. It felt like a monumental victory. That was until my then-four-year-old returned home one day, asking for “beachy waves.” To make matters worse, she could correctly pronounce “ombre.” Soon after, she began requesting fishtails, mermaid hair, and something called a “waterfall twist.”
“Mommy, could you give me a topknot with a bow made from my own hair?” she asked.
If you’re like me, you might be wondering where she picked up these terms. The answer is simple: YouTube and her classmates, who, for some inexplicable reason, are obsessed with braiding tutorials. These kids can barely stay within the lines while coloring, yet they distinguish between a Dutch and a French braid—skills I have yet to master.
I’m committed to improving. I want to do this for my daughter, not only to make her happy but also so that she can look back at her childhood photos fondly instead of cringing at the spiral perm I refused to mousse in 1989. I’m determined to learn hairstyling—a personal challenge I’m eager to tackle.
I’m proud to report that I can now execute a sock bun thanks to one of those As Seen on TV Hot Buns gadgets. In my bathroom, I now possess more hair products than I’ve owned in my entire life combined, though I’m still figuring out how to use them all.
Each morning, I practice on my willing little model. We share laughter and plan our day as I attempt to twist and clip her hair. She expresses her desires, and I do my utmost to meet them. Admittedly, my best efforts often result in bumpy, tangled hairstyles that fall apart within minutes, but I persist! I continue to study tutorials.
Just yesterday, she asked for a crown of braids encircling her head. “Calm down, Milk Maid of the Alps,” I joked, but I gave it a shot anyway. She ended up resembling a slightly unhinged Frida Kahlo rather than Heidi, but she thought it was beautiful, and that’s what truly matters, right?
Progress may be gradual, but it’s happening. Realistically, my daughter and I probably won’t become Instagram hair influencers, but this journey is about bonding with her, making an effort to learn something new, and demonstrating that practice leads to improvement. Perhaps one day, I’ll master a respectable side ponytail fishtail.
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In summary, this story highlights a mother’s humorous struggle with hairstyling for her daughter, showcasing her determination to learn a new skill for the sake of their bond and the joy it brings to her child.
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