Shining, Gleaming, Streaming, Flaxen, Waxen

There are many, many important topics that I could tackle in this blog. For instance:

What is the geo-political ramification of the UN brokered cease-fire resolution in Lebanon?

What was the machete-wielding woman doing outside the White House?

Where is Baby Suri?

And because terrorists are trying to blow up planes again, thousands and thousands of dollars of make-up and haircare products, innocent mascaras and powders and mousse, that are at this moment being tossed in trash cans at international airports. And those plastic bags of beauty products are bound for landfills and incinerators. What, dear God, what did those piles of Lancome and Bobbi Brown beauty supplies do to those terrible men? Why must they take out their differences over oil and land on all that beautiful lipstick? Oh, the humanity.

(hey, you deal with stress in your way, I'll deal with it in mine.)

However, I will not be dissecting and analyzing those topics in this blog post. Instead, I will tackle the toughest of all topics.

What to do with the Baby Mullet?

It's a problem that all mothers of young toddlers face. Especially those with daughters. It's certainly an issue here in the Chicky Household. What do you do when your child's hair is growing out, but has not yet taken form as the real, awe-inspiring child hair that women in salons across the world try to emulate? There is the illusion of a hair style, but really it's more akin to Uncle Louie's bad come-over than anything that Jennifer Aniston will be sporting anytime soon.

Recently, I've been kept up at night with thoughts of what to do with Chicky Baby's growing locks. On a good day, and this isn't saying much, she looks a bit like Kate Hudson's son. On a bad day... Well, let's just say that someone wakes up from a nap looking like they've been on a bender.

Not quite sure what I mean by the baby mullet? Let me show you.




Aw yeah... This one's nice. I call this style "The Nolte".









The cute face won't help your cause, kid. It's still a mullet.






Although, it is kind of cute when she's all hot and sweaty and her hair curls in the back. Proving, once again, that this kid was planted in my womb by an alien life force. Neither Mr. C nor I have any curl to our hair.







This is what I usually do to tame the beast(ly hair). The "Pebbles". C'mon, you know you think it's cute...







... And it is cute. Except when my husband tries to do it himself. Then she ends up looking like this. Can you see the hastily gathered mop on top of her head, hanging over the top of the high chair? Yeah. This is what happens when you leave your child with your husband overnight. At least she wasn't in her pajamas.




I was forced to make a decision. I could continue to put clips and rubber bands in her hair - but every time I did I would find that barrette or elastic in her mouth, sooo safe - or I could bite the bullet and get her hair cut. I certainly wasn't going to be the person to take a pair of scissors to my kids head. I loathe cutting her nails, trimming her hair was not an option. So we took her to a professional.










Okay, she wasn't thrilled. Honestly, I think she was more freaked out by the cape than the scissors. Or maybe it was the Dr. Seuss motif. And the loud kids music. And the bad cartoons about a hairdryer named Flyer Joe Dryer.

In less than 5 minutes it was done. I almost balked when the stylist (stylist? Can you call them stylists?) said that from the sound of what I was describing to her I wanted the "Pixie cut" for my kid. Hmmm, when I think Pixie I think of this. I knew it wasn't going to be like this. I mean I wish my 15 month old could be so cool. But it came out like this...


It's hard to tell from that picture, what with the tears and everything...




But it came out like this. How cute is that? So it's a bit pixie-ish. But after $18 (including tip) that though I can't say was money well spent, at least there's no more mullet.