Knatty Soldiers

My final task this week in getting Banana and Honey Girl ready to go home to Wisconsin was to dread Banana's hair. Yes, DREAD it, as in Bob Marley, Rasta, beatnik (does anyone still say that?), super granola Dreadlocks.

I personally think the dreadlocks are a great idea. Banana is a funky and creative stay-at-home mom who is launching her own business making the world's cutest soft-soled baby shoes and she is therefore able to do any damn thing she wants with her personal appearance. I would consider it myself if it were not for my need to present a conventionally professional appearance. My oh-so-cutting-edge nose ring is enough of a kick in the teeth for the corporate world I am about to rejoin. It will go so well with my new smock inspired UNIFORM! (I KNOW! Freak out! A smock-like UNIFORM! At least it will forestall any morning closet angst.)

Producing dreads is a 57 step procedure which involves special shampoos and rubber bands and salty spray and strange powders and basically shredding and matting the hair until it gives up and forms formerly silky hair into a perfect tube of snarls and split ends. And then you have to let them MATURE. Like teenagers. This is tedious business. (Like teenagers.) This also involves spending 10 to 20 minutes on each section of hair, all but pulling the hair out by the roots while back-combing ferociously and spraying chemical about to aid the process. The process is so painful that the instructions at dreadheadhq specifically state:

This does involve some pain. - So What? Are ya gunna squirt some? Are ya? Sniffle sniffle. Do you wanna wear the daddy pants? Do ya?-- Take it like a knatty soldier. You're gunna have plenty of phatty dreadlocks baby!

The process is especially arduous when trying to keep a three year old, an 18 month old, and a one year old out of your way whilst simultaneously keeping them from making each other scream every ten minutes. Which is frankly NOT POSSIBLE. It worked best when all three girls were asleep, but that didn't happen often. So each tediously painful dread was worked with a child hanging from one of our breasts and much cursing and interruption. If anyone got pissy (BANANA), the other would quickly counter with: "What? Are ya gonna squirt? Are ya?" And so we persevered on through THREE DAYS of said activity.

Here's the photographic evidence:

The Before Picture (Notice how thrilled Banana is looking.)


Sectioned off, but no dreads formed yet. Banana is still quite chipper.


Working the final dread, just hours before Banana's flight. Banana smiles while clutching a pillow for support.
After: Banana grins while the blood trickles down the back of her neck.

After: Rear view (we wiped up the blood.)



And then I loaded Banana and Honey Girl into the minivan and drove them off to the airport for their nightmarish journey home. The month of sisterly hanging out ended quite abruptly. And now they've been gone a few days and my house is clean again. But soo quiet. And lonely.

I'm gonna squirt.