5 Life Lessons I Learned Combing My Little Girl’s Curly Hair
Here's why you should keep tugging through when life gets tough.
Photo courtesy Element5 Digital | Pexels
Phoebe’s brilliant red curls have been the stuff of legend ever since she had hair. It’s her equivalent of the Mona Lisa’s smile or Michaelangelo’s David’s … well … birthday suit? It’s that single defining attribute that makes her stand out in a crowd and command the immediate attention of everyone in the room.
I never gave hair much thought until I needed to begin keeping my little girl’s curls in line. I’m a guy, and many guys don’t pay their hair a lot of mind. I’m generalizing here, but I don’t think I’m far from the mrak. Some presumably never use a comb (like me), either because it’s short enough that it doesn’t matter, they’ve shaved it all off or they’re test-driving a visual cry for help.
When you have a daughter with any amount of hair, though, there is a deeply embedded desire to embark on a mission to gather bows, barrettes and those little translucent rubber bands that bite at your fingers when you snap them the wrong way. And I also discovered (thank you, Julie!) that there are all kinds of bottle-based products you can use to spray, spritz and soak hair into submission.
But this is not a salon class. I’m here to tell you that as I combed my daughter’s hair last night (you’re probably cringing right now – I should probably be using a faux horsehair brush with a carved mahogany handle, right?), it occurred to me that getting through life is a lot like hacking through those tangles.
Here are five things I’ve learned about life, taken straight from Curly Management 101.
Lesson #1: When life gets tough, keep tugging through. Curls won’t flip properly unless you’ve done battle with the tangles. And when you get to a tangle, you can’t just stop and give up. You have to keep striking at it, again and again, until the comb breaks through. Eventually, the tangle breaks free and you can comb smoothly. So goes life: You’ll hit some bumps (or rough patches, as my Grandpa King used to say), but there’s something better on the other side. Keep at it!
Lesson #2: It doesn’t actually hurt as much as you think. My acting assumption, before having a daughter, had been that combing or brushing hair necessarily involved pain. Lots and lots of raw, scalp-pulling, tear-drenching pain. In fact, Phoebe doesn’t yipe or yelp very often. It could be that I’m doing a really good job. Or perhaps it’s that I’ve run her hair through the wringer so many times that she’s numb to the trauma. Life is a lot like that. Our fears get big because we made them what they are (see: last week’s post on The Art of Worry). Approach new and scary things with the right amount of reservation paired with the courage to try something different and risk failing. One of the best things in life is proving to ourselves that we’re capable of more. Take the hurt and trade it for the possibility.
Lesson #3: Get some help. I needed my wife to teach me how to properly apply that curly cream-in-a-bottle stuff to Phoebe’s hair. And when she’s in the mood to be a helper, Phoebe quickly volunteers to take the cream and mash it all over the top of her little head. She also likes to swipe the comb in wild strokes across her scalp, catching big strands and bundling them into windswept waves that leave her looking like the heroine of a science fiction movie set in 2087. On the particularly long days, when I’m worn out from work and ready for an 8 p.m. nap, this irks me. Let me do that! Goodness knows it’s time you were in bed. But: Really? Is it so bad for your little girl to want to do it herself? To learn and try and help? Not at all. Shame on me. I’ve resolved myself to let her help when she wants to help. I always wanted to meet a movie star, anyway.
Lesson #4: The best laid hair, like the best laid plans, frequently unravels. Try as you might, no amount of brushing, combing, foofing or finagling will leave a little girl’s hair perfectly situated in perpetuity. The moment that little head hits the pillow, it’s game over for all of the hard work you invested properly discerning the part straight down between the follicles. I find myself infuriated over the lost 30 seconds I spent combing Phoebe’s hair only to have it go up in smoke a moment later. Let’s get real. Hair is one of the last things that should go on a person’s worry list. There has never been a time when I haven’t had another opportunity to comb her hair and try again. One day, of course, she’ll grow up and leave the house. And anyway, it’s hair. So when you find yourself mad at your spouse, or your kids, or the dog, or that employer who just can’t seem to get it together, remember that ultimately, mostly, it’s all just hair. You get a redo. Don’t lose sleep over it.
Lesson #5: Be the hair beyond compare. In St. Louis, there’s a pizza chain called Imo’s that bills itself as “The Square Beyond Compare.” My wife’s family introduced me years ago, and we’ve become good friends. That slogan is great because it’s distinctive. Normally, a square is a pejorative for boring, average or nerdy. Not at all with Imo’s pizza. It’s exciting as a NASCAR rally in July! So too with my daughter’s hair. It’s a true standout. The reality, though, is that your hair isn’t something you get to choose, and in fact, it’s simply a beacon to the unique little person—quickly growing into a Big Girl—beneath it. Each of us gets to decide how we want to show up, one day at a time. We get to be distinctive. We are God’s children, selected by Him for a special purpose. You are needed today in the place where you are.
Be the best at you, and you’ll be amazed where you go, even when it seems like you’re stuck in a rut.
Or, in a tangle.