The Coif•fure Barometer (It means hair, people. Look it up. These posts are as much about bringing some culture to the mommy world, as they are about bringing myself shame).

So I have found that there is a direct correlation between the amount of pressure mounting in my household and the evident success or defeat of my wild one’s manes. I swear it is scientific. If you want to know how monumentally stressed out I am, look at the locks. Let me explain. When you see sweet little ringlets, tamed braids, or matching bows…you will also see me smiling. Style in my household is not just a sign of the times, but a sign of TIME. Just like a traditional barometer measures atmospheric pressures, the Coiffure Barometer measures our familial atmospheric pressure. When you see that messy bun on my little divas, it is not an attempt at that “I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-my-beauty-is-an-accident” look. (Although I must say that my girls are pretty darn cute. According to my husband’s theory, they have no hope of a career in comedy.) No, their tousled look is more likely my sad, one-handed attempt at function and conformity, as I serve the kids breakfast with my other hand (yes…hairstyling is often a mobile process in our busy household), while voice commanding an email response on my phone for work, while wiping up the anticipated hourly spill of some sort with my available foot, while screaming at someone to hurry up…because of course we are late. We are ALWAYS late! I know what you will say. “You should just set your alarm 15 minutes earlier.” I am telling you people, if I literally never went to bed at all (which sometimes happens), I would still be running 15 minutes behind. Always. It’s like the universe has predetermined my need to disappoint everyone.

Furthermore, the actual height of their rat’s nest is an even clearer indicator of the degree of the morning’s hysteria. The low look indicates an ordinary, busy morning. Sometimes we will throw it slightly to one side, as if this whole hot mess was an intentional act. It is not. Now, as the poof moves up on the head, you can also assume that the pressure in our household is also at a heightened level. We all know ladies, that those days when you, yourself submit to throwing your own hair into that giant heap on the very top of your head, you are exclaiming to the world, “I don’t even care anymore. You win world!” My husband knows that when the hair has reached these great heights, and is actually visible from a forward view, he needs to back the heck up. It is like a peacock fanning up their feathers as a warning to all. Stay back!

Now many of you who know me are probably saying, “Wait a minute. The downtrodden coiffure described here…Isn’t that how Kate’s hair ALWAYS looks?” And you are correct. Have you not been reading my posts? The hope of returning to the world of flat irons and styling products is so far out of my barometer range that I did not even want to humor y’all with the storytelling behind that one. I will say this, the inside joke at my house is that my husband will often thoughtfully buy me a gift certificate for a salon for say my birthday (July), and I might finally get around to using it by say Christmas, only with the threat of an expiration date looming. The McFrugal in me (maiden name for you newbies) feels compelled to move the salon up on my to-do list when thriftiness is threatened. So when I do get the rare opportunity to actually get my hair did and the stylist asks me “So what are you looking for today?” My tired response is always, “I need it to be long enough to put in a poof, and close enough to my real color that I can go for an indefinite amount of time disguising the roots.” And that is where I currently fall on the Coiffure Barometer.

Now you should also know that this style phenomenon has some positive outcomes as well. The “I’ve given up” look also works as a solid method of decompression, in that it holds the same powers as an all-hours pajama day or a donuts-for-breakfast…and lunch…and dinner kind of day. While the presence of high hair is a symbol of defeat to perfection, to your children, to your mission to be productive, it is also as if you suddenly have permission to wave that white flag, curl up on the couch, and just let the chaos settle on its own.

In contrast, some you with fight still left in you may be reading this in disagreement. That is likely because you have only 1 or 2 children and still feel like you have some sense of control over your life. (Or maybe you have 4 or more children and have actually given up all control and found the joy in letting your world just spin and seeing where it falls.) For you, the high poof-poof, as I like to call it, indicates warrior hair. No time for fuss. We need to get these troublesome wisps out of view, so you can get out there and fight for normalcy. The insane scenarios of multi-tasking mania remain the same, and as sad as I am to inform you, the results will likely be the same in the end (Your little rebels will always win. One day you will learn this.). The only difference here is your attitude. You still have hope. Good for you! You hold onto that fairytale ladies! Just make sure the next time you see those ultra-peaked pony puffs out there in the world, you remember that we should all have an understanding…an agreement. It is like, “Oh…okay. She is having one of “those” days. I get it. No judgment here.”