Recycled: Going to get 'Bad Mother' tattooed on my forehead

Burblings from another time (ie an old post)...

I'm not good with hair or hairstyles.  I kept my hair mostly under a riding helmet until I was 20 and then, during my, "men must accept me as I am, and not how I look" phase, got a crew cut.  This style statement also marked the start of 'the celibate years.'

So here I am in 2010 faced with Miss 4 who has shoulder length flyaway hair that mats without even trying AND she has purple-faced screaming hysterics at the sight of a hairbrush.  And, Miss 6 who has the thickest hair ever, so thick I can't even get the hair elastics around it twice to hold it in place.

Suffice to say, the phrase 'neat and tidy' rarely applies to my children.

Given Miss 4s hairbrush issues and the fact I try very hard to pick my battles with the child, it is usual that she turns up at school with her hair scraped back into a slightly matted bunch, usually with bits of twig, toast crusts and the occasional small toy mixed up in it as well.

Hair washing is also a (purple faced screaming hysterically in a small echoey bathroom) issue, so generally I don't wash Miss 4s hair until it starts to smell funny, and when I do I slather it in conditioner and give it its fortnightly comb through/pick-over then.

Yesterday, when I sent Miss 4 to pre-school I knew that night would be hairwash night.  Dreadlocks were forming and I'd spent some time gently soaking a chupa chup stick out of it. However, when I arrived to pick her up her hair had been combed through and tied up in a neat hairstyle.

The teachers, bless them, unable to stand it a moment longer, had taken to her with a hairbrush.  And her reaction?  Calm and cheerful.

CALM AND SODDING CHEERFUL.

They are awesome wonderful ladies, oozing with tact, so they didn't say a word. But I could FEEL the thoughts. Oh yes I could.

I heard myself babbling; there was talk of miracles, and praise for their finely honed child management skills, and then I slunk away, mentally justifying my complete lack of motherly care all the way home in the car.

That evening I flung Miss 4 in the bath (she's always like baths its the hair bit that is the problem), and braced myself for the usual hair washing nightmare, only to have her calm and happy throughout, and spending a lot of time being a mermaid and asking meaningful questions about bubbles.

Brushed her hair this morning,  and she barely even looked up from her colouring in.

Have decided they're putting something in the water at that pre-school.

sigh.