Earlier this week there was an article published on Good Housekeeping.com about a mother who cut open her son’s Sophie the Giraffe teether only to find black mold inside.
I am a huge fan of Sophie and have been since my daughter was born six years ago. I was not happy to hear people bad-mouthing her in this way. After all, something like this could happen to any toy that water could possibly get into. I also felt that not all Sophies were filled with mold and that it probably depends a lot on how they were cleaned and cared for. So, I decided to do a little investigating and said good-bye to our Sophie toys in the name of science. (Note: My children have outgrown Sophie. I’m not a monster.)
It has been a while since I have posted on here, and for that I apologize. If you know me or have read my most recent published articles, you know that September was kind of a big deal for me and my family.
My oldest child started kindergarten on September 1st, after months of planning and prepping and IEP-ing with the school district. This was not an easy day for mama. As I watched that bus pull away I was so proud, yet I felt so vulnerable. My “heart” rode off with an anxious smile on her face, ready to embark on a new adventure.
The term “mom hair” is often used to refer to a very short haircut, as it is stereotypically assumed that most women chop their long locks off after having a baby in order to be lower maintenance. This implied phenomenon was even the topic of a frivolous, and somewhat offensive, article in the New York Times back in June. However, this is not what “mom hair” means to me.
To me, “mom hair” means hair that is way too long and far too neglected. I have not had a haircut since before my second child was born. He is a year old now. To be exact, he is 54 weeks old. My haircut is about 56 weeks.
To me, “mom hair” means no style, no blow out, no color or highlights. It is just a collection of air-dried, boring tresses that keep my head warm.
To me, “mom hair” means a pile of this long, boring (and often unwashed) hair tied up into a messy bun atop my head in order to avoid the tight grip of little baby fingers.
To me, “mom hair” means not being treated with keratin or moisturizing masks, but with an occasional application of dried baby cereal or spit up. Or worse.
So, even though at first glance you may not think I have “mom hair” by the universally accepted definition, I most definitely do. And I wear it proudly, as we should all wear our “mom hair” no matter what that means for you.