Tales Of A Hair-dresser

Dear Friends,

I am loving having a girl. Good Gravy! I love my Bee. I'm really thankful to have another female around here. She understands the need to do girly things. She shares in my frustration of having only one bathroom. We stick together, Bee and me- Bee and I. Whatever.

I enjoy doing her hair. Not only because it's fun to try new hair-styles and she loves being fancy, but because this has become a special mommy-daughter time for us.

She sits on the counter, we shoo the boys out and she talks. It has something to do with the thing that makes people talk to the barber or the bartender. Maybe it's the fear of awkward silence or the advantage of a captive audience and it lulls them into having spill-all sessions. Whatever the reason, I'm loving every minute of it. After all, someday she may not want my beauty tips.

She tells me all about her ideas, her observations, her plans and her woes. She could talk the ear off-- off--- off a-- a- a long... eared... thing. Well, that fell flat. She talks a lot, okay? I can't imagine where she gets that. One day her observations included a man with a very long pony-tail. She wondered if it would take scissors as big as God's to cut hair that long. Not the most politically-correct view but it made me chuckle none the less.

Another day it was her wish that our eyes could see ourselves without a mirror. And why can't we see the back of us? She wished we could turn our heads clear around like an owl can. She's a vain little thing! She didn't get that from me. I often don't get a chance to look in the mirror in a day. But then, that could be why I've looked down at what I was wearing in public and wondered why nobody mentioned I had mustard on my shirt. Note to self: Look in the mirror before leaving home. I'm still learning here, people. Good thing I have kids to help with these things.

She tickles my heart with her funny use of words.

Like when she told me she was so sad that one of her headbands had broken because

"it looked really 'Spanish".

I don't know what that means. I like to pretend it means she was paying attention during a brief geography lesson on Spain. Not likely.

Today she said her job was to 'astroy the spiderwebs and 'dush' off her bed. She meant 'destroy' and 'brush the dust'.

I don't want to forget these funny words.

Someday she'll use correct English.

Someday she may not want to listen to my words, let alone copy the things I say.

She constantly wishes that daddy would take the boys for 'boy-time' and then we could go have our 'girl-time'.

I hope she always wants to spend time with me.

She says she hopes she'll be a mommy like me some day. She chatters on about how she'll have a husband, babies and a house.

All the while, I'm thinking,

"Laundry seems so much more glamorous when you are five.

Is she too young to start doing her own?"

Happily and hairdressing-ly yours,

Rae