Way back in middle school I remember being handed a paper with just the outline of a head and being told to draw in our face for some class project. Instead of drawing myself as I was, mousy brown hair with glasses and braces, I drew myself with bright blue hair and an eyebrow ring. Ever the rebel – if only on the inside ūüėČ

A few years later my mom agreed to let me streak my hair blue for the summer. ¬†I can’t remember if it was Manic Panic or Punky Color but I do remember that I loved it.

Shout out to my older sister for her participation in my first dye job!

Other than some experimentation with hair mascara (is that still a thing?) I left my hair in the natural color arena for the next 19 years. And doing that math¬†just made me feel so old (weren’t the 90s just a few years ago?!?!)…. I played with Blondes, Browns and Reds but I definitely played it safe.

Don’t judge picture quality. Two of these three photos were taken on “REAL” cameras with “REAL” film. Double prints anyone?

But earlier this year I decided to let my inner wild child loose. ¬†There was something about being a stay at home mom that confused me for a few years here. ¬†You hear about mom jeans and mom haircuts and moms in yoga pants and mom buns. Mom style ¬†= easy and comfortable. As I transitioned into parenthood I went in believing that was the unspoken dresscode. Maybe 13 years of Catholic School had me prone to uniforms. ¬†Maybe it was the ads for Luvs with the mom in sneakers and loose¬†capris.¬† Maybe it was this funny (and somewhat truthful) viral video¬†of moms rocking active wear. Maybe it was just dumb ol’ me accepting a stupid stereotype as truth (ding ding ding!!). After I had my first child 4 years ago I got this idea that I was “too old” to have fun hair and wear fun clothes. ¬†I was supposed to cut my hair short and invest in lots of active wear. And no offense to short hair or lululemon but that’s. just. not. me.

SNL knows what’s up with the mom jeans

Ultimately I have no one to blame for accepting and adopting a stereotype. The buck stops here my friends. And earlier this year the lightbulb went on. I heard myself saying something along the lines of, “If I were younger I would totally color my hair a fun color.” And then I actually stopped and thought about my logic. For days I kept running that sentence through my head – finally it had stuck with me that I was deciding to not do something that I described as FUN because I was accepting that at some point I had become TOO OLD for fun. What in the what was I thinking? I was being my own buzzkill.

What a earth shattering realization. There was no mom dresscode. There was no mom version of the principal’s office where I’d be sent if my hair wasn’t in a messy topknot. What else have I been stopping myself from doing being of some silly notion that is truly an opinion at best. Ask my grandparents how old I am and I’m betting they would call me young in a heartbeat! (And FWIW – I think my grandma would look excellent in any hair color.) ¬† ¬†And once I realized how completely and utterly wrong I had been looking at things for the past 4 years, I decided to throw out my “old” excuse and my “mom” excuse and go with it…

You know you were thinking it….

This is MY mom hair. ¬†This is my silly admission to the #nevertoolate club. ¬†This is my mom war cry: “I don’t have to have ‘mom’ hair to be a card carrying member of momciety!”


And for the record – my kids LOVE it.