Thursday, February 4, 2010
HAIR! ..... Again.....
I LOVE doing Charlie's hair.
Unfortunately, she hates it.
I don't like torturing her, but I do love running my fingers through it. It's so thick and lustrous. I enjoy working conditioner into each last strand, taming the wild fray, twisting my fat uncoordinated fingers into learning how to do braids. It's kind of like having a live doll to practice on, something I never did as a child. I just wish she enjoyed it more. I do try and massage her scalp to make it more pleasurable for her, and I'm careful not to pull (but I'm sure an errant hair gets tweaked every once in awhile nevertheless). I've come up with several "original" 'do's, mainly because no one is teaching me so I'm inventing things as I go. Experimenting.
At first I was intimidated, having read how "difficult" it is to do black hair. But now I really enjoy the 20 minutes each morning. I enjoy it so much that sometimes, if Charlie is not too tired, I'll ask her to sit for another 20 at night so I can experiment.
Here is a lovely article from The Washington Post that my dad sent me awhile ago. I just got around to reading it. She describes the hair time as a bonding time between mother and daughter that she will greatly miss when her daughter grows up. I will too.
By Lonnae O'Neal Parker
Sunday, January 31, 2010
"Soon now, these days will be gone from me.
As I settle myself on the couch, my 11-year-old daughter, Savannah, brings me her hair basket: comb, water bottle, hair grease, barrettes. She plants herself on the floor, squarely between my knees, and I begin my work. There's the everyday hair-doing, but wash day takes more time, and slowly I separate the thick, kinky tangle growing from her head. I rub in a dollop of grease -- Kemi Oyl or root stimulator lotion, but mostly just dark blue Ultra Sheen (I like the standards) -- to make the hair obedient, and part it into sections, clipping each firmly to her head.
My hands are slower and gentler now than they were when she was younger and I was younger, with a career to chase, and an older daughter who had her own head of hair for me to do, and another baby yet to come.
Sometimes, if I was pressed for time, I could get by with a few surface brush strokes and a liberal application of gel to make the girls passably presentable, but it took 20 minutes of work to make them look special. Twenty minutes to make them feel pretty so that neighbors would comment on the straightness of their parts. Twenty minutes to be reassured that I'd sent my children into the world making clear that they were valued and loved. Twenty minutes. Every day. Minimum. Apiece."
Read the rest here.
This is a crazy lil 'do we call "the coolio".
This lasted a few seconds.... my attempt to keep her hair neat for the next day. HA! Not yet, I guess.