When adopting I didn’t think much about hair. Perhaps, because I sported the only yellow locks in the house. I’m not one to spend a lot of time on myself. But I’ve got girls who do and they pay attention to everything. Josi has had years-more of experience in makeup and nail care than me already. Aubry isn’t far behind her. (Mama Rule: No make up outside the house.)
There was a development this week. I cut my hair. Quite short, but not as short as I sometimes do – which used to indicate, to Holden, that we were going to have another child. Funny how my boy used to pick up a connection between hair and a new child…
When I came home Aubry jumped up and down with excitement and a HUGE smile, “Mama, your hair! It’s like mine!”
And although it wasn’t intentional, yes it is like hers, the same length. Granted mine is blond and darned curly, especially when the humidity sets in. I truly just sat in the chair with no thoughts of having anything other than my hair trimmed when that wild hair kind of – well, you know; I got a “wild hair” and told Morgan to chop it off.
Feels good. And I made my daughter happy. Perhaps this will stop some of the talk about how she wants her hair to be like mine. She’s asked about often about changing her hair over the past year or so. I’ve told her how beautiful her hair is.
I love to run my hands over it, feeling it’s wiry softness and can’t imagine her without her dark thick silky locks that have highlights of auburn and chestnut in the summer. But now mine is like hers, if only in length – and that’s even better.