Speech bubble

Me, age 41
Jane, age 12

I am sad to report that my daughter’s head resembles an oil slick.

I love her to bits, but I am totally grossed out by the greasy sheen of her hair, which was once – before the dawn of these rocky tween years – soft and clean-looking.

I attribute most of her greasiness to hormones, but I’ve certainly wondered if she’s doing a sufficient job of shampooing/conditioning/rinsing/etc. As a result, I have not only asked her to provide me with specific details of what goes on behind the shower curtain, but I’ve actually given her a hands-on tutorial of how things should shake down. (You can imagine the vigorous eye-rolling on her part during this particular conversation.) Regrettably, nothing makes a difference. So, as a mom, I guess I have no choice but to embrace the stage she’s at, greasy hair and all.  

What I can’t seem to get over, though, is what other people are thinking when they look at her: That girl really needs to wash her hair. What kind of mom lets her daughter out of the house looking like that? Take a shower, kid. And so on and so forth.

I have the potential to drive myself crazy dwelling on this, so I stop and think of my good friend Shannon. The mom of three boys, Shannon believes our lives would be infinitely easier if we could just employ speech bubbles above our heads. These speech bubbles would follow us around and communicate key information to the general public that we wish to convey but don’t have the time or energy or guts to say on our own. Shannon is smart.

If I could magically have a speech bubble right now, it would say:

Yes, I know my daughter’s hair is greasy. She takes showers, but her hormones are on overdrive. Please remember how awkward it is to exist in a pre-teen body. I’m sure you were no beauty queen at this age. 

Just imagining these words bobbing above my head brings me a degree of tranquility and composure as I spend each day with my daughter and her enthusiastic sebaceous glands.

I’ve talked to other friends about Shannon’s splendid idea and they all love the idea of having speech bubbles – because really, what mom hasn’t been stuck in a situation where the spoken word is difficult, inaccessible, or not entirely appropriate?

The friends I chatted with were quick to offer creative and painfully spot-on examples of the speech bubbles they wish they could utilize during their more uncomfortable and frustrating moments. Here is a sampling:  

Nothing to look at here, people. Keep moving.

I appear less sensitive than I am.

I really love my baby, but today he is really annoying me.

Please be kind. My life is hard.

I could use a kind word.

I look more capable of life than I actually am.

I want MY mommy.

Could a giant hole please open up, NOW?

One friend went a little deeper with her speech bubble:

Boys have emotions, too. People say, ‘You’re lucky to have boys. They’re so much easier. Girls are so emotional.’ But trust me, my boys are emotional too. They are just taught by society that they have to hide it.  

And finally, another of my friends (with a particularly great sense of humor) told me about the speech bubble she often relies on when interacting with her own children:

I know I’m supposed to care about what you’re saying right now, but I don’t.

***

I love having a speech bubble. Even if no one is reading it, I’m more mentally balanced knowing that I can toss my words up into it and they’ll stick there. Just like they would in my sweet daughter’s hair.