A little back story:
I'd say I am new to this mom thing, being one, having one...12 + years experience with my first born, my Mini-Me, my Lala. No matter how hard I looked, how much I wished, no instructions to be found for her. I have messed up, but all parents do, right? I mean diaper rash happens, cuts, scrapes, tears happen...right? Right? Eh, she's a great kid, good head on her shoulders and she loves and trusts her crazy momma, as I love and trust her.
I'd say I am new to this mom thing, being one, having one...12 + years experience with my first born, my Mini-Me, my Lala. No matter how hard I looked, how much I wished, no instructions to be found for her. I have messed up, but all parents do, right? I mean diaper rash happens, cuts, scrapes, tears happen...right? Right? Eh, she's a great kid, good head on her shoulders and she loves and trusts her crazy momma, as I love and trust her.
Whoops, jumping ahead.
So, I might have done this "First Day of School" thing myself, but differently. See I was raised by a single father. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it: well not EVERY minute, but as I sit here, looking back fondly on the years I had with my daddy, I loved it. Reality, not so much, he was tough on me, expected a lot and there were times I just wanted to hang out, but he did his best and I am pretty dang amazing if I do say so myself.
One thing I didn't get growing up was mom time. I had a step mom, or two...they were not maternal, we just didn't click. I was the son my father never had, yes I'm girly, but it's taken a while. Can I put on make-up, sure. But only after watching my girlfriends for YEARS.
Can I do my hair, yes I can, but not well. The more important question is, do I do my hair...nope. It gets washed and then air drys, sometimes in a pony, sometimes in a bun. If I have time to fiddle, sure I'll play, singe some hairs, burn my fingers and toss it up while waving a white flag.
Here is where my very first blog post begins...
Mini Me: Mom, I have a question. *she begins every question she EVER asks with this precursor*
Momma: Of course you do, spill it. *At this point I am laughing, I hate this precursor of hers, yet I miss it when she listens and doesn't use it*
Mini Me: Will you curl my hair tomorrow morning.
Momma: *shudders* I will
Fast forward to morning
Mini Me: Still want to do my hair
Momma: Yes, show me how you want it
Mini Me: *whips out a pinterest pin*
Momma: Ummm, I wouldn't even know where to start or how!
A little side note, Mini Me has gorgeous, beautiful, long, thick hair. She did not get that from me.
People stop her all the time and tell her how pretty it is.
Momma: Baby, I can't do that
Mini Me: How about this one *shows another pic, not as difficult but still not possible, for me*
Momma: Ok so I'm going to disappoint you, I can't do this. I don't know how, I need lessons. I am failing you this morning and I'm sorry.
Mini Me: *sighs* It's ok momma
Moments later...
Mini Me: Can you do a sock bun?
Momma: Do you have a sock?
At this point, I am still not dressed. I am making lunches, making breakfast, and trying to wake up Little Man. He is nocturnal, I decided.
I am a wee bit stressed, my hair is all over the place (although I don't care) but I would like to get to work on time.
Mini Me: I don't, not one we can use.
Momma: Well baby, I can't make a sock bun without a sock. Maybe we should try and curl your hair the night before.
Mini Me: OK
I freaking love her. I feel awful, I feel like I always disappoint her. All she did was want my help with her hair, a little time with me in the morning. But I couldn't do it, I didn't do it.
I feel like I need to go to beauty school to even go near my child's head.
I cut her hair once...she begged me to.
Little tip: Never listen to a 7 year old, especially when it comes to scissors with a red handle and an A-line. It's not gonna be pretty, or turn out anywhere close to how she's thinking it will. Eh, we live and learn, hair grows.
So I send my sweet Mini Me off to school; after she beautifully does her hair. By herself.
I pull my thin long hair into a pony and feel AWFUL, I should have done more.
I dread these tasks when I have kids. I'm like you, not much to my hair. I don't think you failed. Hair is just not your strong suite. At least you tried, which is more than some mothers can say. Not sure how comforting these words from a non-mother are, but I know you love your babes to pieces and that will never be a fail.
ReplyDeleteHi Elaine, uncle Tim here. I remember when your dad would hold you by the feet in one hand and we'd marvel at your balance as you stood up for 10-20 seconds at a time. You were probably less than two at the time, maybe less than one. I'm pretty sure diapers were in play. Still, I'll never forget your smile as you balanced on his hand and his smiles at your agility. As a non-boy first child, you were anything but a disappointment to Dick. He was crazy over you and it showed. And he was right, as was Marguerite. You're a very beautiful and talented lady, hair cutting notwithstanding, and your little ones, well, you'll see a reflection. They are Nature's little mirror. Miss you, hope everything's fine. Uncle Tim
ReplyDeleteThank you Uncle Tim, I love hearing others memories of my dad. I miss him terribly. We are all doing well here, busy having fun. Miss you guys too. :)
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