I have always wanted curly hair. When I was in primary school, I’d have my mother put curlers in my hair at night so that I could have curls at school the next day. By first break, my hair was as straight as it had been before. Sigh. Of course, that didn’t stop me from repeating the exercise.
Undaunted by my curly-haired friends who told me that having curls was a pain to manage and they’d much rather have my dead straight hair, I had my hair permed for my matric dance. For the first time in my life, I had curls that lasted more than a couple of hours. It was fantastic! . . . And it was also a bit of a pain.
Poppet’s hair started to curl somewhere around her first birthday. I was thrilled, but quickly realised that a few months of curls a decade earlier had not prepared me for a child with curls. Detangler and hair oil and wide-toothed combs – Poppet uses more products on her hair than I do on mine! And there is no such thing as “Quickly brush your hair.”
But her curls are beautiful, even if they are a bit of a pain to manage. Fortunately, her fairy godmother is a hairstylist, so my girls will always have fabulous haircuts – and I have someone on call for the day that Poppet or Pixie decide to give each other a real haircut.
Pixie was born with such a thick mop of hair that the nurses in the theatre commented on it. (Yes, I had heartburn throughout my pregnancy, thanks for asking.) I was convinced it would stay straight, or just have a bit of a wave, but again, at around her first birthday, it started to curl.
I tell my girls all the time that they have beautiful hair; I don’t want them to grow up wishing for different hair. When Poppet asks why her hair is curly and mine is straight, I tell her, “Because that’s the way God wanted our hair to be.”