When One Cannot Do Kid Hair

“Makeup optional…”

That’s what it said on the paper I got about Natalie’s ballet photos.

And it specified to do hair nicely.

Nicely? I could barely do my own hair nicely, let alone my five-year-old's.

I’m always jealous of the mothers who can do hair neatly. French braids, pig tails, Katniss-style hair—whatever the request, they can do it.

Me?

Well, when my daughter has pig tails, they are never right down the center of her head. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. But the part always looks off and one pigtail is up and the other is down.

When she goes to ballet, I do an easy bun. Meaning I put her hair in a ponytail and simply don’t pull the entire thing through the band. So it’s sort of like a bun. And since she’s in beginning ballet, they don’t care.

But now. Now it was picture time.

Natalie was thrilled. It meant she got to wear her recital costume. The one I paid $65 for. I’m sorry, it’s so not worth $65. I could have bought an adorable Janie and Jack outfit for $65, complete with all the accessories.

The costume came with a hair thingy. I didn’t know where the hair thingy went on her hair. It didn’t specify.

For the makeup, I went with lip gloss and light eyeshadow. After all, this wasn’t an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. Some people might think it’s okay to cake makeup on their daughters, I am not one of them.

In the end, she looked like this:

I used hairspray to keep her hair down.

And I would later find out that her bow DID NOT go there. It clipped near the back against her bow.

Oh.

Most people would have known that.

Some kids did have a lot of makeup on. Natalie sort of sighed when she pointed out a little girl who had Kardashian-esque type makeup on.

“She has darker lipstick!” Natalie whispered.

“She can’t be older than ten. I don’t agree with it,” I explained.

“I have NO lipstick,” Natalie fumed.

“You have enough.”

I’m not sure how she did with pictures. The parents were not allowed in that room. They grabbed the kids and then returned them twenty minutes later.

“Did you smile?” I asked Natalie.

“Sort of,” she replied.

I’ll find out in three weeks how she did.

For professional photos she usually comes across looking constipated.

It’s because the photographers don’t realize that they have to run into the wall to get her to laugh.

Like I do.