Monday, April 16, 2012


My kids like to "make my hair," which generally consists of three kids jockeying for space on my shoulders and around my head and trying to jerk a brush or comb through my tresses.

(By the way, the word "tresses" totally makes me think of glamorous, long, flowing locks. My hair more accurately resembles an electrocuted poodle at the end of the day, but hey, a girl can have vision!)

I generally encourage "hair-making" as it's a fairly enjoyable treatment aside from having my head yanked side to side on occasion.

The other day, having woken up at 5am with a maddeningly wakeful baby, I was falling asleep sitting up and relished sitting down and having tactile tabs on all of my kids. Ok, so maybe having a baby at the end of a fistful of my hair isn't exactly restful, but as long as he was using my hair as a climbing rope, he wasn't running away to get into trouble.

The girls and Sayer were taking turns spraying my hair with detangler and kept running into the bathroom to gather supplies. At one point, I had 11 barrettes, two headbands, and a curler in my hair. The kids pronounced me "Be-you-tee-full!" and continued to add items.

They were surprisingly gentle, aside from Z's yanks, and I was slowly lulled into a nice, relaxed state. 

Now, this is the thing with kids... they like making you feel nice and mellow. If they can get you to close your eyes, all the better. Generally, they choose this moment to ask you for candy. Or, better yet, to tip-toe off and get their own candy. Mom's halfway comatose, she doesn't care!

But occasionally, just to keep you on your toes, they decide to revert back into their infancy where they'd do things like let out loud shrieks in the night just to keep you on your toes.

I was leaning back against the ottoman and Caly was brushing my hair with a matchbox car. (Whatever, dude... it felt nice). She reached down to pick something up and suddenly said, "Ok, now... I'm going to doctor you. Don't worry, this won't hurt a-"

She wacked me over the head with a plastic stick.


I yelped and turned around and gave her a "what the HECK" look. She solemnly stared at me and said,


Lexi took a picture with her camera.

"Caly, WHAT on EARTH are you doing?! That hurt!"

Lexi snapped another picture.

Sayer saturated the remaining dry section of my hair and half of my face with detangler spray.

She patted my cheek and shook her head at me, "Oh Mama, I had to. And really. It didn't hurt a bit. Remember?"

And then she gently drove another matchbox car over my face.

I'm seriously considering a bubble suit and helmet.

And I guess I should be glad they stayed out of mischief that day?  Uh, sort of?


  1. No, no, no, Jen. You clearly wrote "Lexi snapped another picture" and yet there is no picture to speak of on your blog post. :)

    My nieces usually use their toolbox to "cut hair" which always ends when I get clocked in the head with a plastic hammer that feels more like a sledge!

  2. I wonder if that's how my kids feel when I take them to the doctors. "This shot won't hurt a bit, I promise, just a tiny pinch!"


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