My hair is nicer than Barbie’s and its about time

When I was 6, I received ‘Quick Curl Barbie’ for Christmas. Likely because she had curly hair like me. I didn’t have friends who had curly hair, they all had the lovely long straight blond hair of the 70’s. The kind that Jan and Marcia Brady had. I was a curly head brunette kid, who looked like a boy because of my short locks (Thanks Mom!).

Quick Curl Barbie was beautiful for one day. She had  synthetic hair with strands of wire woven into it. This was to ‘hold’ the curl in place – kind of like weaving pipe cleaners through your hair for that Pipi Longstocking look. Barbie came with a pink brush, comb and curling wand. Give those tools to a 6 year old and soon the beautiful Barbie had rats moving into her hair. The ends became all matted and knotted. Basically it looked like crap for the rest of the Barbie’s natural life. Funny…so did mine!

Quick curl Barbie #4220
Quick curl Barbie with new hair

Quick Curl Barbie the next day

Quick Curl Barbie the next day

Some time between starting this blog back in 201o and today, I lost my curl. I no longer have the tight curls of my youth except for the nape of my neck. Those critters are still curly like my baby curls. If I don’t flat-iron my hair, I have thick or big hair. It’s still straight but just bigger. Swimming made a mess of my hair and my hair dresser reprimanded me regularly. I decided I needed to let my hair grow out so I could get a proper cut. My hair had become the exact same as Quick Curl Barbie. Wiry, stiff and a weird not blond colour. It had grown past my shoulders – only when I straightened it could you tell it was that long, and I was tired of the ugly hair. Time had come for an appointment to cut it all off.

I went into the stylists and told her what I had been doing and why. Then I said, “I trust you, do what you need to do to fix it and I want to look sassy because, quite frankly I need hair to match my personality.” She told me she loved it when she was given free rein, and off to the sink we went.

Hair Stylist – “So tell me, how blonde were you as a kid? Because the blonde is holding up really well!”

Me – “I have never been blonde in my life”

HS – “um…yes you are.”

Me – “WTF? 45 and NOW I get the Long Blonde Straight hair of my dreams? Oh sweetie, that is GREY hair mixed with my BROWN hair.”

HS – “If we add some foils of Dark Brown and Blonde, use your natural colour as the base, you will look like you have always been blonde.”

Me – “Do it.”

So not only do I have the best cut I have ever had in my life (from a girl who was BORN IN THE 90’s!!), I now have long straight hair and will look like I am a natural blonde with highlights and lowlights by Thursday. Dreams DO come true.

Suck it Barbie, my hair is now NICER than YOURS.

When I Grow up I Want to be a…

Having snack with my students is HILARIOUS. Seriously, if I could do this all day, my life would be perfect.

Lately the conversations have been about future careers. You know the kind, “when I grow up I want to be a…” Last year the best career when to a the boy who wanted to be a Transformer. He was serious, had a plan of action and had no doubt that it was possible. If you asked him that same question every day, he would reply in the same exact way with a deadpan expression on his face, “A Transformer.” Nothing in the world was more important or serious to him then that. It is his passion.

This year we have two young gals who are equally as serious. One rambles on and on about when she turns black, she will be Michael Jordan. She honestly believes this will happen. She is sure once she turns black, she will grow tall. One must also assume she will grow some man parts and become Michael Jordan. If there is some way she can become Michael Jordan through talking about it, it will happen. It is her favorite topic of conversation and she continues to talk about it even when no one listens. It is her passion.

The other young gal is the sister of the Future Transformer. She also takes career choices quite seriously. I was told in no uncertain terms that she was destined to be a Barbie. WOW. The feminist in me wanted to cut her down at the knees. But the nurturing teacher accepted her decision as fact and proceeded to grill her on her plans.

Apparently, if you watch Barbie and the Mermaid it explains the whole process. Between you and me, there is no WAY I am sitting through Barbie and the Mermaid. It was bad enough listening to it second hand from a 4 year old. From what I gather, if you wish for something hard enough, put the work in, and be willing to wait, becoming a Barbie is a cinch! I told her my daughter is a Barbie. She looked at me and smiled very seriously. Then she said, “being Barbie is nice, can I see her picture?” So I showed a picture of Chatterbox that resides on my phone. She has blonde hair and is quite tiny for a teenager. The aspiring Barbie nodded her head and agreed that Chatterbox was indeed a Barbie. Clearly, being a Barbie is HER passion.

When I was 4 I wanted to be a super hero, artist, the best jumper, and Scoobie Doo. I never had an inkling that I would be where I am today. I was pretty sure I was going to be 4 forever. It fascinates me these children are so passionate about their fate and destiny. Sure lots of kids want to be something cool, but it lasts for a few days at the most. Not months. These kids are amazing. They make me laugh with their seriousness, and plan of action. They know what they want and how they are going to achieve it. I hope this mindset lasts within them, because when the really figure out how they are going to pay the bills when they are adults, their focus on the goal will get them everything they need.

Children like these ones bring me hope for the future generations. We all could use another Michael Jordan and Transformer in our lives. Heck, we can even use a Barbie or two. At any rate, their passion and conviction are inspiring.

Ok Mr. DeMille, I am Ready for my Close up

My 12 year old says to me: Look at all this room! I could get pregnant – but I won’t – and I would STILL have room.

WHAT?!?!?!

She bought new pajamas, women’s size large and way to big for her. Normally she is a size zero. 5’2″ and a size zero with gorgeous long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes with a bubbly personality to match. So joking about getting pregnant is not what I am wanting to hear. I nearly had a heart attack.

I can see it now, dead from a heart attack at 43. No positive female role model for my daughter. Her whole world falls apart. Suddenly she becomes a statistic of teen pregnancy. THOSE JOKES AREN’T FUNNY CHATTERBOX!

Not that long ago she was telling the stupidest Knock Knock jokes ever. I would always drone on with a “whose there” and end with a fake laugh “ha ha”. Then she would ask if it was funny. I would always answer with an emphatic No. Then I would laugh for real.

When she was a little girl of 6, she always said, “no offense mommy, but I don’t like kids. Don’t expect grandkids from me.” I always thought that was adorable. Who knows at the age of 6 what they are going to be when they grow up? I was going to be an artist. She was going to be a STAR.

At Christmas she decided she needed a plan of action. How was she going to be a STAR with a fairly normal family. Chatterbox decided she needs dysfunction in her life so she can play the part of leading lady not leading lady’s best friend or sidekick. Over Christmas dinner we discussed the different ways we could traumatized her so she could be a STAR. Various suggestions came up like parents divorcing, locking her in a closet, forcing her to eat meat ( she is a vegetarian at heart). None of these dysfunctional suggestions appealed to her. Now we don’t know how she will be a Star. She has an audition coming up soon for a play in a theatre company’s theatre season. She has read the script, she will learn her lines and I am sure based on enthusiasm and personality she has a decent shot. We have talked about rejection and how that will feel when it happens. It will happen eventually. Chatterbox doesn’t care because rejection is part of the process. She may or may not be a STAR but it is still her dream and I will help where I can. I will try to be more dysfunctional than usual to speed the process. This may or may not help, we will have to see what the future holds.

After what she told me about her pajamas, I know I am traumatized enough to become a star. I can channel my inner Carol Burnett and be a mighty fine Norma Desmond.

I’m ready for my close up Mr. DeMille…