It all comes back around!

I figured I better come and update this thing before I start getting e-mails from people wondering if I'm okay. So today, I'll share a story with you.

When I was growing up, there was a certain spot in our old house that my mom used to lay down on the floor with a pillow and this blue crotched blanket (that I think she still has) in an attempt to read one of her books (a trashy Danielle Steel book I'm sure). I'm not sure why she didn't lay down on the couch ... maybe because my dad usually had his newspaper spread out up there? Hummm, I'm not really sure.

Anyway, I usually took this chance to plop down on her back and "style" her hair. I'd go and get a spray bottle with water, a towel, a mirror and just about every brush or comb we had in the house. I'd sit on the small of her back, while she read her book, and start spraying down her entire head with water. Sometimes I got a bit overzealous with the water ... and that's where the towel came in handy ... wiping off her face and trying to keep her book from getting soaked. I'd style it all to one side of her head and proudly ask her to look at herself in the mirror. Then I'd style it all to the other side and again ask her to take a look. I'd finally get to a style that I really liked and tell her that I thought she should wear it to work the next day. She'd just look in the mirror and give me a half smile as to say, "Sure honey ... I'll just let you believe that and hope you don't realize it's different in the morning." I don't remember if I ever questioned her as to why she never wore any of my styles to work ... because really ... who wouldn't want to go to work with their hair brushed from the back to the front?

I can remember this all very vividly. I can remember the exact spot that she'd always lay. I can remember the combs we used and what colors they were. I can even remember where we stored the water bottle.

Well, as my title for this blog post says ... it all comes back around! Monday night I talked to a good friend on the phone for about a half hour. Paige and I were still doing the "girls thing" as the boys were at Grandma and Grandpa Knudson's house for hunting. I was sitting on the floor between the couch and coffee table and at some point Paige got up on the couch behind me with a comb and started brushing my hair. Pretty soon she went to get her little detaingle spray bottle that we use on her hair. Then she went to get a second comb. All the while, I was thinking of my mom and I. Before long, she had my hair half wet, had pulled on my hair hard enough that I would have wimpered if I hadn't been talking on the phone and had about 10 hair "pretties" on my head. She was so proud of herself. She did it the entire time I was on the phone ... laughing to herself when she'd get the comb all twisted in my hair and then laughing even harder when she got a clip to stay in. I couldn't help but laugh at how, without me even provoking it, she did the exact same thing I'd done to my mom 25 years or so ago.

Maybe we have a hidden stylist gene in our family line that just been fully exposed yet? I wouldn't mind free haircuts for life. :)