A Journey Through Hair Styling: A Mom’s Struggle with Her Daughter’s Tresses

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For the first year of my daughter Lily’s life, I found immense joy in adorning her little head. We had stretchy headbands in every imaginable color, oversized flowers galore, and my personal favorite, a charming red satin ribbon tied into a perfect bow that made her look just like a baby version of Snow White. When we grew tired of the headbands, hats became our next obsession—because let’s be honest, nothing is cuter than babies in hats.

Then, her hair started to grow.

At first, this was an exciting new development. We embraced tiny toddler pigtails, and I felt pretty confident in my hair-styling skills until the preschool years hit, and I was forced to face a harsh truth: I am terrible at doing hair.

I should’ve seen it coming. Growing up in the age of mall hair, I was the only girl at school with a flat, lifeless hairstyle. While my classmates boasted gravity-defying bangs, mine drooped to one side in a sad manner. I had no interest in curling irons, the sticky Dippity-do, or that grape-scented spray that made your hair feel like plastic wrap. My mom once made me get a spiral perm, which I detested, and since then, as an adult, I have only sported two hairstyles: long and straight, or a bob—also straight. According to every women’s magazine, I’ve also been blow-drying my hair incorrectly for years, confusing the “ends” with the roots. So, I gave up blow-drying altogether, leading to a look reminiscent of Samara from The Ring.

By the time Lily turned 3 and had developed a full mane, she looked like a child from prehistoric times. If you can imagine any depiction of cave children, that was my reality. I often found myself reassuring strangers that no, my daughter wasn’t raised by wolves, and no, I wouldn’t be crawling out of a TV to haunt anyone.

I have no idea what a diffuser is for, and I can’t use a round brush without needing to cut it away from my scalp. Don’t even get me started on hot rollers, salt spray, or dry shampoo—those terms might as well be in another language. The only hair-related skill I possess is how to get gum out of hair (pro tip: use oil).

One day, another mom from preschool suggested using detangler, and I felt like I had discovered gold. That is, until my then-4-year-old came home requesting “beachy waves.” Even more daunting? She pronounced “ombre” correctly. Things escalated from there as she began asking for fishtails, mermaid hair, and something called a “waterfall twist.”

“Mommy, can you give me a topknot with a bow made out of my own hair?” she asked.

If you’re like me and wondering where she learned these terms, the answer is simple: YouTube and her classmates, who are also obsessed with hair-braiding tutorials. These kids can barely color inside the lines, yet they know the difference between a Dutch braid and a French braid—skills I do not yet possess. I’m working on it, albeit at a snail’s pace.

I genuinely want to learn how to style Lily’s hair, not just to make her happy but also so she can look back on her childhood photos without the horror I feel when I see that sad spiral perm from 1989. Learning to style hair has become a personal challenge for me.

I’m happy to report that I can now execute a sock bun, thanks to one of those As Seen on TV Hot Buns kits. It actually works! My bathroom is now stocked with more styling products than I’ve owned in my entire life. I’m still figuring out what to do with all of them.

Every morning, I practice on Lily, my enthusiastic little model. We chat and plan our day while I attempt to twist, weave, and clip. She tells me what she envisions, and I give it my best shot. Usually, my attempts result in lumpy, messy styles that fall apart within minutes, but I persist! I’m continually watching tutorials.

Yesterday, she asked for a crown of braids encircling her head.

“Calm down, Milk Maid of the Alps,” I joked, but I gave it a go anyway. In the end, she looked more like a deranged Frida Kahlo than Heidi, but if she thought it was pretty, that’s what truly matters, right?

Progress is slow, but it is happening. Realistically, Lily and I probably won’t be Instagram hair models anytime soon, but that’s not the point. This journey is about bonding with my daughter, making an effort to learn something new for her sake, and showing her that practice leads to improvement. Okay, maybe not perfection, but maybe one day I’ll be able to create a decent side pony fishtail.

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Summary

In this heartfelt tale, a mother navigates the challenges of styling her daughter Lily’s hair, facing her own limitations while learning to bond with her through the process. From toddler pigtails to complex braids, the journey is filled with laughter, learning, and the realization that practice can lead to improvement, even if perfection remains elusive.