Tags
Big hair, Bill Withers, Chaka Khan, Grandma's Hands, intimate time with my daughters, Jill Scott, mommy and me, mothers and daughters
My oldest daughter, age 5, had been asking me to blow dry her hair “straight”, and curl it with the curling irons, for some time now. Though it seemed like a simple request, I dreaded the amount of time and work that it would involve. You see, my daughter has a very thick head of big hair. While it isn’t the least bit coarse, when dried, it’s just BIG… “I’m Every Woman” Chaka Khan big! Did I say it’s big? It also sucks up moisture better than the best Oreck vacuum cleaner. I ran through the mental checklist of all the reasons why she could wait. Then I heard the small voice inside tugging at me to remember that “every girl needs to feel special no matter what their age”; to feel that they matter enough for someone to take the time, love, and care for them. This is what a girl wants!
I grabbed her by the hand; reached for the bottle of No-Tears shampoo, and commenced to wash that coif! I assured her that this would be the easy part. The heat would come later! After the repeated patterns of sectioning, combing, drying, and moisturizing, I took to the delicate work of curling her hair with the hot curling irons. I wanted to be really careful to avoid burning my baby’s ears, skin, or hair. Then she said, “I don’t just want my hair blow-dried and straight, Mom, I want it curled too, like a princess!” She also wanted style and a little bit of pomp and circumstance.
What I wanted was not very different from what she wanted. It was a yearning for us to spend more special time together. Oddly enough, I felt like I was getting her ready for a big event, and was nervous about the “big reveal”. Would she like it? Would I be comfortable with seeing her look slightly more grown up? Would she ask me to do this more often than I’d care to? Would I then have to share with her my opinions on why she shouldn’t? We got to talk about what was on her mind, and I got to revel in her excitement and anticipation about what her hair would look like and how she would feel, once finished.
Then a rather different mood hit me altogether. My mind fast-forwarded to her teenage years and young adulthood, and the various mirrors into which she may look as she morphs into the various stages of becoming the young woman that I imagine she will become (First Day of Middle School; High School; Sweet 16; Prom; Going off to College; Her First Heartbreak). My eyes hold back the tears that my heart is generating, and my heart becomes full of a longing for the return to her childhood, though she still sits before me as a five-year old child. Each stroke of the hairbrush and release of a new Shirley Temple-ish curl becomes deliberate and contemplative.
I tell her stories about how my grandmother would secure me between her knees to comb and grease my wild and woolly hair, and that though I appreciated her taking the time with me, I wasn’t too keen on the big old plaits and pigtails that I got for enduring all that pain. That just didn’t feel like a fair deal. I was surprised by my daughter’s sensitivity toward my grandmother, whom she met only once at just six months old. My grandmother scoffed at the notion of elaborately styling a child’s hair, or applying heat to such a tender head. She often displayed a growing disgust about our girls growing up too fast, even then.
I contemplated how my five-year old would remember these moments. Were my responses affirming? Was my touch gentle enough? Did I celebrate her, and more importantly, did we both share in the moment that I hoped would be bottled forever. I was doing my best to create what I hoped would be a sweet memory. She approached the mirror, looked at her hair, smiled at herself, and remarked, “I look beautiful, mommy”. Her words needed no chorus or symphony, no backup, no response. Though I was happy to provide one, she was sure of it, as she continued to exchange smiles with her reflection.
My heart smiled now, wider than my face could manage, as I held back tears of joy. She felt confident, radiant, special, beautiful! I hoped that she would hold on this remarkable confidence and always see herself as worthy of mommy’s love and care, without hearing the threat of “next week” or “maybe tomorrow”.
I now realize that every little girl needs to feel that they matter enough that someone would take the time, love, nurture and care with them. “Every girl needs to feel special…no matter what their age.”
And now I need a Kleenex!
Some musical inspiration on the subject:
“Grandma’s Hands“, by Bill Withers; and,
“The Thickness (Let her be elevated)”, by Jill Scott. (Rated: GFO (Grown Folks Only)
Lovely.
Thanks!
Its those extra steps, that seem to be the most time inconvenient, that wll shape & mold them in intangible ways. I’m glad she loved how mommy’s work made her feel. Awesome-inspiring
Sherry, thank you! I’m glad you were inspired. Sometimes the most inconvenient occasions teach us the most! I’m just happy to be in tune with that little voice that tries to teach me about the BIGger, more important things…Life matters!
This is such a sweet story. It brought back memories from my childhood. My grandmother, however, wasn’t about “grown” hairstyles for children either. I never got to feel beautiful as a child, and was ridiculed for having “short, nappy” hair.
Little girls need to feel special, and what my grandmother didn’t know was that pressing and curling my hair would not have been for me to look grown, but for me to feel good about myself. River has such a wonderful mommy!
Thanks so much, love! (I only use first names if they appear as the author.
) I am honored that God chose me as River’s mom! She is such an artist on so many levels, an expressionist…of Life, love, and the beauty therein. Those are not traits that would have been encouraged when I was a child. So, the business of developing well-adjusted children is a difficult one, an art that I haven’t fully mastered. Not sure that I will, but I want to make these moments count. I want to “undo” some of the learnings that were imparted to me as a child. My grandmother never would have pressed my hair. Heck, she thought colorful hair ribbons attracted too much attention! At the same time, I now understand her perspective. Though she never admitted it to me, I believe that she must have grown up in an abusive environment of sorts. Not that she was abused per se (not that that would have been disclosed in our environment anyway), but the pronounced absence of intimacy informed the way she raised my girl cousins, twin sister, and me. She only had boys…six of them! (Perhaps this is why she didn’t get the whole “girl needing to feel special” thing? )
Yes, girls absolutely need to feel good about themselves, not just because they are girls, but because it’s a most primal necessity. What we do with them as children makes all the difference!
What a sweet experience for your daughter — and what a bittersweet one for you! I love your last paragraph (before the Kleenex). Yes, every girl does need to feel special, and so many don’t get that growing up. I know so many women who’ve stayed in unfulfilling relationships because the guy made them feel special, and they feared they’d never find anyone else who would. Your daughter is fortunate to have a mom like you.
The word bittersweet, is apropos in this context. I treasured the time, but it signaled more to come and the looming horizon of her growing into a young lady. In the meantime, I’m holding on to her childhood like a precious charm. I feel like I’m the fortunate one here. Parenting has been the best (but most expensive) therapy ever! It allows me to work on being a better person, as well as a great mom, all while trying to erase some of the pre-recorded messages of my own childhood. I think that I’m only as effective as I remain introspective and attuned to what I took away from those messages, and what to keep versus what to discard altogether! Thanks so much for chiming in! Writing this post was cathartic for me on many levels, and left me with a full, but free and open heart. This is the joy of writing! Keep on reading, and I’ll keep on writing!
Knowing that she is loved unconditionally by someone is the kind of fuel for her soul that will last River a lifetime.
Danielle, thanks for stopping by to read “What A Girl Wants!”.
I agree! That is my goal, anyway. It is definitely a work in progress. Opening up, giving, listening, all without judgment, unconditionally, requires such mindfulness, but at the same time, it frees the heart to receive love from others, and release our expectations of them. In its presence, forgiveness comes much easier, as does acceptance.
Beautiful moments, and so beautifully shared with us! Thank you for writing this — and reminding me of my own moments of love and contemplation, shared with my daughter “secured between my knees!”
Thanks Re! I’m so glad you stopped by! More importantly, I’m glad to hear that this post evoked a sweet memory for you, and stirred up some nostalgia. I hope to also look back on this time with the utmost of fondness. I’m always grateful for your visits and feedback. You’re such a brilliant writer. You’d never believe what was blaring through the speakers as I entered the store the other day. Yep! You guessed it…Roxanne! I just smiled! So thank you!
Thanks for your compliment, Ms. Empress!
It means a lot to me. I’m always grateful for your visits and feedback, too! It’s great that we two writers were able to meet each other here in the blogging world — very serendipitous, and very sweet! <3
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I am starting at this April blog, random choice but so wonderful!!! All the things that went through my mind the first time I blow-dried and curled Zion’s hair! I really enjoyed reading this.
Thanks for stopping by, Christa! Welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy reading along.