Today was picture day at the kids’ school.  Remember picture day?  My poor mother tried so hard to get my hair to behave on picture day, but more than one of my elementary school pictures show a little girl with hair that has a definite mind of it’s own.  One of my memories of picture day is of the hard black comb we always received while standing in line to take our picture.  It didn’t do much good in my hair.  Tight black teeth don’t tend to have a calming effect on thick naturally curly hair.

Ana wanted an elaborate hair style today with three braids and pony tails all over the place.  It seems she likes the hair styles of all her friends with “ethnic” hair (I’m not sure if that’s a politically correct term, but I am trying to be delicate here).  It’s hard to explain to her that her just won’t do that.  Eventually, we settled on parting her hair in the middle and executing two french braids to about the middle of her head and leaving the back loose.  I’m biased, of course, being both her mother and her hair stylist, but I do think this is a good “look” for her.  As usual, Ana put head band over the front of it.  She so badly wants to keep the hair out of her face that even if I manage to pull it back for her, she still thinks she needs the head band.

Ana is much more girly-girly than I ever remember being.  More than once I’ve said that God knew what he was doing when he gave me curly hair.  Long ago, I stopped fighting with it.  Now I simply slap some gel in it, throw it in a barrette and go.  I’ve had the same hair do since college, but if I cut it much shorter I’ll end up looking like little orphan Annie since I’m not going to take the time to blow the curls out of it.  And now that I’m getting older and starting to go grey, I have this idea that if I cut my hair short, I’ll end up looking like a little old lady who goes to the salon once a week to have her hair “set and styled.”  Definitely not a look I want right now!  In fact, I’m considering some pink dye for the grey once I have enough…not sure what my husband will think about that…

At any rate, Ana is willing to spend more time in front of the mirror primping than I did as a child.  I remember thinking make up looked like fun, but my Mom had stern rules about little girls and make up…they just didn’t go together.  The same rule has been instituted with Ana, but she still manages to sneak a little blush (which she used to call “bleesh”) and lip gloss every now and then.  I continually tell her that less is more when it comes to make up and hair styling products.  Her Dad also takes every opportunity to remind her that how she develops her inner beauty through prayer and contemplation is much more important than her outward beauty.  I hope it’s not a losing battle. 

I like putting on make up now, but not too much.  It may be my inner artist’s expression…if I can’t paint on a canvas, at least I have my face.  Ana sees me putting on make up now and constantly asks me “why?”  My answers come up short, I’m sure, because I’m trying not to emphasize my outward appearnce too much.  I do think I look better with a little make up  and I think it’s a good thing to look your best (but not too flashy).  It’s hard to explain this weird paradox…no we don’t want to emphasize the importance of appearance over developing  the heart and soul.  At the same time, there is a kind of twisted pride (in my opinion) in not caring at all how you present your outward self to others. In a way it’s like saying you care more about yourself and your own comfort than the other people you may come into contact with.  I’m not putting this to words well, but maybe you get my drift.

We’ve refrained from letting Ana watch all the Disney (a la Hannah Montana) shows which seemed to be aimed at her generation in the hopes that she won’t get to “looks oriented” before her time. And there are other reasons.  These shows aren’t “bad” in the sense that they push shaky morality.  But they do tend to present adults as somewhat buffoonish characters and also seem to incite a teenage-ish kind of frenzy regarding boys and music.  The little kid years don’t last long and I’d rather see her glory in her little girl-ness rather than enter into teenage angst before her time.  I’m happy that she’s seven and still likes to play with dolls and have tea parties rather than listen to Jonas Brothers records…er…I mean, mp3’s.  OK…end of public service announcement.

David did his usual hair do, a little gel, combed nicely and parted on the side where the big cowlick resides.  I doubt it will still look as it did when he left the house this morning by the time his picture is taken…but that’s OK.  He’s a boy and he behaves like one…as soon as he steps away from the mirror David no longer cares how he looks…if he even cared when he was standing in front of it beyond knowing he’ll be made to go comb his hair if he “forgets” in the first place.  If we could just get Mike to wash and comb his hair on a regular basis we’d be happy.  What is it with 12 year old boys and grooming, anyway?

Ahh…parenthood…