I used to think my hair was hard to manage. I still sort of think that. I used to think that taking nearly one full day to drive to the salon and pay to have my crazy curly hair permanently straightened once every 8 months was quite the hair extravaganza. By the way it's been 8 months and I am in desperate need of another drive to such a salon. This is why none of the following pictures have me in them. My mother, sisters, and husband used to refer to my once every 8-9 month hair day as "high maintenance". My husband should be rethinking that label about now considering his hair observations of the past 8 months...which did not occur in only one trip to the salon once but about every single Saturday...a Saturday like today. Today the fastest and best hair fairy showed up at our house on Saturday sleep in day and woke up girls at 8:30 am to commence hair day (certain such persons would sleep in until 10 every day). She left at 7:30 pm. Only ONE head was accomplished all that time and the entire time (other than very quick bathroom and food breaks) was spent doing nothing but HAIR. Thinking that is some kind of record. The poor child whose head was not accomplished has stated at least 5 times that she is not going to church tomorrow. I asked her if she didn't like going to our church and if she would like to visit a different church. The answer was "no...just no church". I know that she loves going to church. So later on I got down to the nitty gritty of the issue as I was putting her to bed. The truth came out that she simply did not want to go to church without her hair day being accomplished. I told her she could pick out one of my hats or one of my headbands and she said, "ok". 

I remember being a fairly particular little girl. I remember getting a bad haircut once...actually maybe more than once. Think I am just remembering the very worst one and nothing can compare to that! Never ever give an 80's layered and feathered cut style to a 9 year old girl with already uncontrolable kinky-curly-wavy hair! Thanks alot Mom. I looked like I had a mullet with wings. Sweet Esmée darling, I totally know how you feel (because surely a mullet with wings looks worse than an afro with a cute headband right?) 

I used to think I would adopt a black child "one day". Eric and I used to talk about this "one day" and I don't ever remember "black child" referring to "little girl" and certainly the plural of that did not enter into my mind. Oh. No. It. Most. Certainly. Did. Not. And why is that? I'm pretty sure it was the hair. Actually, it was the fear of the hair. Little black boys problem right? But little black girls hair? 

Now why did I ever fear that?
This smile was totally worth the hours and hours I spent doing this precious head!

As was this one!

And this time when Daddy told her she looked very beautiful and she wanted to take her pic with Dad. 

This is cute but not at all worth far as time goes.
Pic with Dad.
Um, no.
Because the hours it took were completely undone after 2 minutes spent with swings outside

This is not the before shot.
It is the after shot of 3 hours undoing what was previously done.
And don't think I am getting her to go anywhere until at least another 3 hours are spent.

This doesn't take 3 hours.
Also doesn't stay put for more than 3 hours.

This is what we do when we don't have 3 hours or even 1 hour. 

 This is what we do when we are feeling like fun people.

Fun hair might last all day but won't hold after bedtime. 

As if two little black girls heads weren't enough....

Other heads are being done constantly! 
But not by me. 
Sometimes they are being done by my friend Audrey.

Audrey's the hair fairy for the non-black skinned scalps in our house. 

While this is a common sight you see after cutting hair...

 (and please excuse us and don't think we are just super gross)...
because it is also now a common sight at all times in all rooms of our house...
Thanks to our beautiful girls.

Getting used to that.  

Oh Audrey! What shall I do without you when you leave Haiti next month?

I would rather do little black girl hair all day than deal with this picky fellow! 

Not that he would let me. 

Sometimes glow in the dark beads are necessary when the power goes out at night. 

Sometimes I just don't have this many hours and have to call the hair fairy...

This is Elita Marguerite's natural be compared to strange phenomenon below when extensions are put in by same hair fairy and don't look much different than this. 

Last weeks style...
It took one full day to do both of their heads.
I cannot take credit.
I only participated in attaching one strand and that was enough for me.
Actually this was the last two weeks style except that after one week they kept telling me how very bad their roots looked and that they needed to get it done again!
What? I paid $20 for those extensions. They better last longer than a week! 
Here is what became of the last two weeks extensions today.
And no that is not all of them.
The others are strewn all over this house and we'll be picking them off the floor for weeks to come!

This was our first experiment with extensions.

We shall see if I can get used to the aftermath or not. 

This is the poor dear who took out her extensions prematurely.
The mean hair fairy had to leave after only 11 hours of doing sisters hair!

Glad she seems happy.
Cause I'm not super happy that these "extensions" look just like her real hair only shorter and with weird straight ends that look totally unnatural.
But I told her she looks beautiful. Cause she is.
But also asked why hair fairy spent 11 hours putting in hair extensions when her hair is already this long?

I said I didn't understand.
I got a shrug.

I asked again.
Another shrug with explanation that I needed to give more money for longer extensions.

I still don't understand.
The ones that were purchased for this hairdo were 3 ft. long in the package.
Once they were secured to head they came to her shoulders.

Not as long as I thought, but longer than shown picture.
Then hairfairy decided to give them a trim.
To my horror.
But, of course it's my fault that I didn't pay for the longer ones. 

11 hours and many, many movies later.

I have a long history with hair. Not just my own hair. My mother you see (as evidenced by my mullet with wings) has no idea how to do the hair thing. She is the most wonderful mother who is good at many things. But hair is just not one of them. Dear mom has had the same exact hairstyle for at least the past 34 years I have been alive. My late grandmother (her mother in law) would claim many more years which is probably the reason mom's hairstyle never changed. 

I am the oldest of five children (another explanation of why mom had no time for hair). Three of the other children are girls as well. I taught myself how to french braid on my cornsilk cabbage patch kid Genevieve's hair at the age of seven. My sisters would benefit from these lessons as well. I made sure they never had mullets with wings. I cried for days when Erin let a friend buzz her head like a boy at the age of four. I put a bow or bonnet in Erin's hair every day (she would let me) until it grew out. I burned Eleisha's forehead with the curling iron more times that she would care to remember. I also cried when mother decided to take Eleisha to the salon without my consult (when I was 10) and give her a poodle perm that was almost as bad as my winged mullet. This tragedy happened the day mom went into labor with my baby sister Emilee. Emilee was my prize and took much attention away from poodle perm. Nothing bad would ever happen to her hair. I would make sure of it! Emilee was born with the most beautiful hair I had longed for all my life. She was my real live doll. I brushed, and braided, and fluffed to my hearts content. It stayed beautiful...and sometimes she still lets me braid it. 

All that to say...some people ask me how I know how to do hair being previously a mom of only two boys?
Now you know how. 
But speaking of the boys...
How did they end up with fairly straight easy to manage hair when both Eric and I have curly unmanageable hair? I don't know other than that I prayed for that before they were in my belly. Perhaps God was having mercy on me since only He knew what was to come. However, the history of hair did not let me rest just because my boys have easy to do hair. Oh. No. It. Did. Not. 
Just ask anyone who knew us during this stage of life!

Do you see that "thing" in little Evan's hand?
Not the pacifier.
The other hand.

Here he has TWO of those "things".
This was a common sight in our house back in those days too.
But instead of pieces of hair, it was hairpieces all over the house!

A little background here. Evan had a hair fettish. He loved to hold my hair since he was one day old. He would not go to sleep unless my hair was hanging over his crib and he could fondle it. His crib was lowered with age and my hair simply was not long enough. This was an "issue" for our bonding. 

But it was actually Ethan that started with the hair business. 

More background. One day Ethan and I were shopping in one of the many Dallas, TX Walgreens stores and I ran into a friend. We struck up a conversation in the personal care isle. Baby Ethan was being oh so good while sitting in the shopping cart during our lengthy chat and I later found out why. I had parked shopping cart right next to the hair accessories where lo and behold there was a "hairpiece" that immediately caught my #1 hair loving baby's eye. He reached for it and was successful. By the time I realized that what was keeping him quiet was not a needed nap, the hairpiece was not returnable to the shelf. That was the first hairpiece. It cost $13 at Walgreens. It was the last of its kind for Ethan, but was a true gem of a find because its rememberance saved my head when it came to Evan. The Ebony Fashion black hair store run by the Chinese couple in Mexia, TX was also a gem of a find. The hairpieces as seen in pictures above and below only cost 99 cents at the Ebony Fashion. I stocked up weekly. And people thought I was crazy when I said I was moving to Haiti!
One day the Chinese man asked me why I needed so many of these hair pieces when he never saw me wearing any of them? Hahahahaha! I told him they were not for me. He looked confused. Then I said, "They are for my baby"! More confusion followed.
One day I took Evan in with me to pick out his own hairpiece after I told him they had run out of mommy's brown hair so he could see for himself and stop throwing a fit about it. Chinese man no longer confused after that. Well, maybe still confused. But he seemed more amused by crazy white people and what they let their kids play with. Surely I'm not the only one who allowed her babies oh so strange vices? Right? Please tell me I'm not the only one. 

So one day we were at toddler playgroup. I see postings on Facebook and hear my sister talk about such things these days and remember, "Oh yeah. I used to live in a cookie cutter neighborhood and do that too." But it seems like another lifetime ago. Babies grow up too fast. Maybe that's a good thing in Evan's case. Tangent. Back to toddler playgroup. A new family had moved to the neighborhood and mom had not yet been introduced to Evan's hairpiece. I rushed out when she informed me my son was playing with a dead squirrel. I arrived at the dreaded scene and said out loud, "Oh that? It's ok. It's just his hairpiece".

Fear of little black girls hair? So over. 

God is so good.
When I don't understand
the why?
the what the?
the will my child ever be normal?
I will remember the days of the hairpiece were indeed preparing me for today! 

And today is preparing us for tomorrow! 
When life gets hairy...we will remember!


The sequel...
one week later. 

Hairfairy returns. 
Esmée is happy.
Last weeks purchased hair extensions are magically much longer this time around.
Mom is happy.
The End...(hopefully) for at least a month!

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