It amazes me the way I have two girls – both of whom came from the same two people – and their hair is so different. Hayley with her long curly hair is often on the receiving end of compliments from just about everyone who sees her. It’s blond like mine was as a child but while mine wouldn’t hold a curl if you held a gun to it, hers can barely be straightened; a couple of weeks ago her aunt tried a straightening iron on her for fun and it was still wavy.

Wavy seems to be where Breanna’s headed. When she was born her hair was so dark and so straight that we referred to her as our Inuit baby. Over the past almost-year it has lightened a bit so that it’s a very similar brown to my own hair, and her straight hair has picked up a few stray curls randomly scattered around the ends. I miss the dark brown but this suits her too.

They both feel differently about having their hair handled too. Hayley’s, while gorgeous, is usually left loose because she absolutely hates to have it brushed and she’s not all that fond of pigtails or ponytails anymore. I pull it back if she’s eating something messy or if she’s getting in the bath and I usually braid it at night to help cut down on tangles. Otherwise, she’d just prefer that we leave it alone. On the other hand, god forbid we mention cutting it to minimize the need to fuss with it. I don’t want to cut it short but I’d love to cut a few inches so that it’s just below her shoulders. We’re going to have to bribe her or something before next fall because I really don’t want to be doing battle with her hair every morning before school.

Breanna, on the other hand, loves having her hair handled. Granted, she’s still a baby and may change her mind, and she also has less hair than Hayley did at this age. Also, with her hair being less tangle-prone, it’s certainly easier. Still, at this point Breanna is very much like me. I can wash my hair in the morning, and go get my hair cut six hours later and I’ll still ask for a shampoo just because I want someone to wash it for me. If someone wanted to brush my hair for an hour I would sit in front of them and not say a word. This is Breanna. If I brush or comb her hair, her face goes completely blank, she stares off into the distance, and she quiets right down. I’ve managed to calm her down from crying fits just by pulling the brush out and stroking her hair with it.

In fact, last night she very nearly fell asleep while I combed her damp post-bath hair.

And that was while she was standing up. Let me tell you, she was pissed when I stopped and she snapped awake.

When I first found out I was having a daughter, I pictured myself styling her hair into one cute little ‘do or another. Sadly, Hayley would rather eat broken glass than let that happen. I do hold out hope that when she gets a little older that she’ll enjoy it more and let me play. And if not, I can just hope that Breanna keeps liking it.