Thinking back over my life, some of the sweetest moments I have had with my family are when hair was involved.
I’m the oldest girl in a family of eight children. It was my job to fix my sisters hair, starting when I was really young. I have three younger sisters, and we always had hair to brush, braid, curl, and style. I was pretty good at cutting hair and cut my younger brothers hair, and gave a few perms to friends. I learned how to french braid when I was twelve and had a steady stream of friends wanting me to braid and/or teach them how to braid.
When I met Paul he wanted to buy me an engagement present and I told him I would love a professional pair of haircutting scissors. So he shelled out the $150.00 for those and I still have them today. I have used them to cut the childrens hair over the years, and when Paul is feeling brave, he lets me cut his hair. I don’t do a very good job, but when we are broke, it saves a few bucks.
Allison went to her winter ball at school last week, and once again I found myself curling, styling, and coiling her hair. Paul came in and snapped a picture.

As the children get older, I find myself grasping for moments with them. They are so busy, especially Allie. She played five basketball games this week. Was slightly injured in two of them. Funny thing, but the church team, which is supposed to be just for fun, is where she gets slammed the most because the other coaches always double team her. She has some lovely purple bruises on her legs right now. The one on her knee looks downright frightful.
Fixing hair gives us a chance to catch up and talk about nothing and everything. This time I found myself going really slow, carefully curling each piece of hair, and reveling in a few uninterupted moments with her.
I’m grateful for these moments of doing the everyday things that allows us a chance to connect and talk. I’m really going to miss my daughters when they leave home and I’m the only women with all these men. The boys are great but it is so nice to have the girls in my life.
Allison was so funny as a child. For years it felt like all I did was chase her with a hairbrush. Some days I caught her and other days I just gave up in frustration and let her run wild with snarls and tangles all through her brown locks of hair. I remember once going in to curl her hair with a curling iron before church, while she was still asleep, cause I knew she would never hold still long enough for me to do it when she woke up.
During those years, I would tell her that the day would come when she would spend hours fixing her hair. She always regarded me with scorn, tossed her long brown hair in a dismissive fasion, and would run to play.

Michelles baptism in 1996, Allison was four, almost five.
Now that the time has arrived when she does spend quality time in front of the mirror, I long for my wild eyed six year old, her hair a mass of knots, dirty from playing in the mud, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a big smack on the check with a sticky kiss. Some days I cried in frustration because of the many messes she made in our home. They generally involved something dark in color and permanent in stain (molasses spread on the carpet).
And I’ll never forget the day I looked out my kitchen window and saw a gang of kids on the lawn behind our house, and Allison was kicking a boy two times her size in the shins. He did not respond to her taunts and when I asked her why she kicked him, she just yelled, “he made me mad!!!”
Life for mommas is truly wonderful and horrifying at the same time. The aches are real, but the joy, the joy is what life is all about.

Allison ready for the ball.
Jenny Hatch