"Gray Hair is a Crown of Splendor..."

The author of Proverbs 16 clearly was not a woman.

During pregnancy, I stopped coloring my hair. The chemical smell gagged me, and at my age, I didn't need to look for new ways to cause birth defects in my unborn child. After delivery, I thought about returning to root-touch-up slavery. Sleep deprivation and no real need to leave the house made skipping it easier. The result was not pretty. As of today, I've survived the worst of the growing-it-out era. All but the last three inches are my "natural" color, so after my next haircut, the chemical-treated portion of my hair will be gone.

Not long ago, during the worst of growing out the gray, I was mistaken for my child's grandmother. The woman who made the mistake covered her faux pas well, but I got the message loud and clear.

This leaves me with a question: Do I remain a purist, avoiding the hassle of touch-ups while embracing maturity and inner beauty, or do I succumb to societal pressure and opt for chemically enhanced youth?

Friends are polite when I ask their opinion. They empathize with the hassle of roots, but gently suggest remedies that fade gradually and make the gray look blonde. I appreciate the diplomacy, ladies.

Family members aren't quite so subtle. My parents would probably agree to schedule and pay for my hair appointments if only I'd agree to lopping off inches that I'm "too old to wear that way." My mother has been a blonde since my childhood, but something gray lurks near her scalp. You would think my salt-and-pepper-headed father would be on my side. No way. Guess the splendor of Psalm 16 is reserved for gentlemen only.

My greatest concern is for how my child, upon entering school, will deal with having a gray-haired mother whose classmates mistake Mom for Grandma. Not that coloring my hair would fool anyone, anyway. Back before the baby, in the days of faithful hair coloring, I was mistaken more than once for my husband's mother.

Maybe I need to forget about the hair for a while and focus on hiding the wrinkles?

Just Four Days Shy of the Big 4-0

I said goodbye to my thirties with a big hurrah...childbirth. Although Hollywood makes mid-life parenting look easy and glamorous, it is neither. If I had a nanny, housekeepers and a personal trainer, I might believe otherwise. Life hasn't dealt me from that deck of cards, though. Don't get me wrong, parenthood is "the toughest job you'll ever love." But some days, I just feel too old for this. That's what I'll be talking about here.

Stay tuned...