A new look for BabyGirl

NEWS FLASH! The other front bottom tooth came out just a few days later! That Tooth Fairy is glad she bought a half-dozen of those fancy-schmancy gold $1 coins.

It was like this before school, totally creeping me out.

After school, BabyGirl was sportin' a whole new look! I heard the Tooth Fairy laid in a supply of those new gold dollar coins...

For those who've followed the hair saga, this hairdo consists of mommy-supplied double-stranded flat twists done on an angle from left to right in the front, the twists held with mini butterfly clips, then the rest a mass of the most gorgeous ringlets, curls, and a few snarls.

Hair salon disaster

BabyGirl's long-awaited, eagerly-anticipated Very First Ever hair appointment was yesterday at 2:30. It was awful.

Because this was primarily a braiding salon and not a full-service salon, I pulled her out of school right before lunch to do the wash and comb-out. I sectioned and braided her hair into thick plaits so all they had to do was undo a section and make micro braids without too much pulling and tugging.

We got to the salon at 2:30 and were met by a bunch of blank looks. The owner of the salon, who was supposed to do BabyGirl's hair, wasn't there and hadn't left any notice with the rest of the loosely-organized staff about us coming in. They called someone and the woman came in after about 10 minutes. I should have followed my instincts and just rescheduled but, since I'd already taken her out of school (and that certainly wasn't going to become a habit), I felt obligated. Lesson learned.

When the new woman finished heating up then eating her lunch, she promptly undid all the thick braids I'd put in, fluffed BabyGirl's hair into a giant knotty afro, then got to work on those tender hairs at the nape of BabyGirl's neck. After the first two braids, I told her they were too tight against BabyGirl's scalp and they had to be looser--enough to stick a pinky in so she doesn't develop traction alopecia. The woman, who never even introduced herself, said she'd do them looser, although under protest. She didn't.

By the time the 4th braid was in, I could see the tears welling in my baby's eyes. By the 5th, I called it quits. She was trying to be so brave. She leapt into my arms and sobbed right there in the shop (this from a child who'd rather do anything than cry in front of people), not wanting to get down for a good 5 minutes. We packed up our stuff and went home, holding hands all the way, both of us feeling terrible.

We came home and spent the next 2 hours carefully picking out those 5 tight, tight braids and trying to comb through the rest of her hair. By then, we were both just done with hair for the day so I just put her in two big puffs and we'll come up with a style this weekend. A total of 6 hours of hair related activities for two puffs; what a waste.

I'm much more traumatized by the whole thing. I feel like I led my precious baby into a lion's den, I feel like I should have followed my instincts and left before anyone touched her head. I'm just glad I stopped it when I did, that I did protect my baby (eventually), that she slept well last night (unlike me) and seems ok now. I'm glad we'll never go there again.

Damn those Rice Krispies people

For every one of our babies, I've chosen two songs to sing to them as they fall asleep, songs that are near and dear to my heart. While I love that each of them have had something special just for them, I'm also now left with old favorites that are now inextricably linked with the loss of those babies. I can't hear the songs without the aching, empty-arm heaviness washing over me.

AJ, the one of the four we were most certain would be our child forever, got the two songs I'd saved, hoping to sing them to my child some day. I knew better than to do it, to use my two most favoritest songs; I knew his birthmom still had options. I knew he might not be mine forever.

But she kept saying, for weeks and weeks, months and months, that she was certain of her choice, that she wasn't going to change her mind, all the while continuing to be given baby showers (unbeknownst to us at the time) while we got him through his first cold, clapped when he managed to sit up by himself, received his first smile, laughed with him as waves washed over his little piggies, reveled in that first wonderful time he slept through the night... We became a family as the months passed; I sang him the songs I'd saved since high school for my future babies.

So, AJ got my two most favorites: Over the Rainbow and Wonderful World. Not the traditional versions, but the version by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole with his gentle voice, sweet ukelele, and haunting opening bars.

And now every time Kellogg's hawks their stupid cereal, I have to hear it again. It hits me like a punch in the chest every time. Every damn time.

Listen here (sorry for the inelegant link but I'm not wise to the ways of the internet):
http://www.npr.org/templates/dmg/dmg.php?mediaURL=/asc/perfectsong04/20041123_asc_listeners01&mediaType=WM
I like it with the Windows Media Player ocean mist visualization; it looks my tears.

Childhood magic vs. reality

BabyGirl's school has themes for each month around which all the lessons revolve. This month's theme is literary genres.

Here's part of an email from her Kindergarten Teacher Extraordinaire:

During the month of February, the Lower School is
exploring literary genres. Teachers have chosen a
genre to study with their class. I have chosen Folktales.
As a bridge between January [African American history]
and February’s themes, last week we read from More
Tales of Uncle Remus: Father Adventures of Br'er
Rabbit, His Friends, Enemies, and Others as told by
Julius Lester. This week we will be reading from: The
People Could Fly: American Black Folktales retold by
Virginia Hamilton.

Last Friday, we had a preliminary discussion regarding
the difference between fiction and nonfiction. After an
explanation of the categories, I showed the children
books and they told me if they thought they were fiction
or nonfiction. When I showed them a Disney version of
Winnie the Pooh, a debate erupted. Some children
thought it should be fiction and others insisted that it
was nonfiction. The reasoning for it being nonfiction was
that several children had “seen” Winnie the Pooh
“for real.” Cinderella was also nonfiction because several
children had seen the real Cinderella at Disneyland.
Despite convincing arguments from both camps, no one
budged from their original stance. Hopefully, the rest
of my examples will be less controversial.

Any guess who instigated the debate? That would be my BabyGirl.

Despite her familiarity with basic literary genres, she's adamant that Pooh and Cinderella are nonfiction. And I just don't have the heart to disabuse her of that notion. That kind of childhood magic has such a short shelf life, I just don't have the heart to hasten its end.

Gratefully, Kindergarten Teacher Extraordinaire didn't get all I'm-the-teacher-and-I-know-all-the-answer-y (which would have been totally unlike her). Instead, she simply commented that BabyGirl--and the others in her camp--had a good point, and let it go at that.

Respect for the brevity of childhood magic, respect for different points of view, modeling the behavior I hope BabyGirl continues to develop.

Oh, Molly

Molly Ivins, I'll miss your words, your humor, and your point of view. May you rest in peace.