“You have a spider web in your hair, Mommy!” said Olivia
while we were driving. We were on our way to the doctor for Rosemary's poison ivy, and I was in the
passenger seat. Olivia’s car seat was immediately behind me.
I was a little annoyed. Olivia loves to point out imperfections in me...moles, pimples, bruises. She notices everything that I'd like to pretend doesn't exist--and then talks about it. Often in public. She also makes up stories just to mess with me. I am forever paranoid. “Olivia, it’s not nice to tease Mommy
about spiders in my hair. I hate spiders! I don’t want to have them in my hair!" Still, I had to ask: "Do I really have one in my hair?”
“But Mommy, you really, really DO have a spider web in your
hair! Really, really!”
D.J. was driving, and I asked him to look over and check my
hair for spiders when we got to a red light. He looked, and he got this grin on his face--the kind where your eyes are laughing, but you're trying not to laugh out loud because you might get slapped. “Oh. A gray hair.
Sticking up right THERE...It does look sort of like a spider web.”
A spider may as well build web in my hair. I’m obviously a
million years old and practically already decaying. If some maggots could please just come by and eat my flesh and make way for daffodils to grow, I'd appreciate it. I'm way past my expiration date. (I'm also 34 years old! I'm pretty sure I have some usefulness left. I still have lots of stuff to do.)
Anyway, I imagine those are the kinds of thoughts my sweet little girls must be thinking when they see the spiderwebs in my hair, the parts of me that sag, the little changes that have happened to my body as a result of bringing them into the world...I'd like to tell them they're signs of a life well-lived. They're signs of a growing pool of knowledge, experience, wisdom, love.
The funny thing is--I don't dye my hair, and I'm not
planning to do it any time soon. It's expensive. I won't keep it up.
I'll always be worrying about my roots showing. And last time I tried to do it myself, I got dye on the bathroom wall, which was a real bummer. I figure I should just age as gracefully as I can, be as authentic as I can. When they see pictures of me, though, I do wish they'd see a youthful, energetic mommy, rather than one who's haggardly, tired-looking, and old.
But one thing's for sure: whatever I really am, that's what they'll see, with or without the hair dye. They see the good, they see the bad. They see it all. There are going to be more spiderwebs in my hair, whether I try to hide them or not. May we all learn to accept them--especially me.
Can you relate? Drop me a line!
