Take Two

And here shall follow another post that proves that 31 for 21 doesn't have to include all Ds-related posts all the time. Because this one here? All about me.

Yes, again.

I'm pretty sure I only have 46 chromos, but no one's ever checked. Who's to say I'm not one of those people that doesn't find out until later in life? Ya never know.

So, today was one of those rare, awesome days that BD and I have off from work and Playette still has school. That almost never happens.

We got up and tag-teamed her right out the door before deciding that maybe a walk would be nice. And then when we were half-way home, I got the genius idea to...double the distance. Good grief. I just couldn't leave well enough alone, huh? It wasn't one of those situations where you could just change your mind mid-way either. I added a circle. A really, really big circle. With no short-cuts. One we started, that was it. We had to finish.

When we got home, I raced to shower because...

1. I had a massage appointment! Woohoo! It was the result of what I like to call the Summer of Groupon. I bought so much crap, I swear. And now we are in the Autumn of Using Everything Up Before it Expires.

Then I did something not nearly as fun. I went to sign Playette's IEP. Booooo. I got annoyed and kinda lost my zen-like state.

2. But then I went and got cookies! The local bakery that is known for its workforce of people with disabilities was right next door to the offices, so I just had to go. You know, in the name of Ds Awareness Month and all. I'm all about doing my part.

I got home and watched a little TV with BD, ate some lunch, and...

3. Went to get my hair done! (I hope you're all yelling appropriately when you see these exclamation points. This is exciting stuff.) The experience itself was less-than-awesome, other than the hair washing part - I love that, but the results were just what I needed. See, lately, I've been doing what I like to call the Lazy Brush-Over. I just kinda do the top of my hair. Whatever goes on underneath remains a mystery. Until I go to comb it and it takes 30 minutes of pain-inducing raking. It's a mess and I bring it on myself. With that in mind, I decided to get it temporarily straightened using a blow-dryer and scalp-scalding temperatures. I should have taken a before pic, but even I'm not that brave. Just know that it was an afro on it's best day and then remember all I mentioned about not combing it. Then make that picture in your mind 10 times worse. That was me.

And this is me now:



It's not flashy or glam, but I can get a comb through it. That's huge. And I'm good until it rains or I sweat. That equals about 12 hours, I'm thinking.

I attempted to have BD take the pics so it wouldn't be me doing goofy self-portraits in the bathroom mirror, but my husband and I had some creative differences. No worries. I love him for more than his picture taking abilities, thank goodness.

I still have my San Antoni-toes, but hey...I got a lot accomplished today. I'll get that pedicure in there sometime soon. That's a promise.

And I won't post pictures.

Well, maybe I won't.

Don't be mad. I have some pretty k-a feet.

Gotta Love Sesame Street

I will begin teaching this song to Playette immediately.

Very important and a nice reminder to me of all the things our hair can do.



It's not always easy being different. My little girl will experience that in more ways than one.

I just want her to know that different is ok. Actually, different can be more than ok.

It's beautiful and should be celebrated.

Awareness Hair

Check out Playette's 'do from Saturday.

I hadn't planned it like that, but, hey, we're all about being festive over here. She was also giving me a lot of grief about doing her hair that day so I knew I'd be keeping it simple.

So yellow and blue adorned puffs it was.

In case you didn't know, the Ds awareness colors are those very same ones.

And now...more on OJT

A few weeks ago, I talked about doing hair.

Exciting, I know.

I could probably come up with something to say about wrangling Playette's hair every week.

I don't though. And I won't. Promise.

But I came across these photos that were taken about two months ago. I was so proud of my little creation that I had to document it. (We were folding clothes at the time.)

So, these pics are for the people I promised to show these to and then forgot.

Tra-la!

On-the-job Training, Pt. 1

Before giving birth to Playette, I wasn't what anyone would consider a master hairdresser. I was blessed with a full head of the stuff and have always struggled to keep it in a manageable state. Currently, never letting it get longer than 1/2 an inch is my method of choice.

I've talked before about the 15-30 minute per day struggle that is combing Playette's hair. As well as what it looks like when I don't.

I came across these recent photos and found the expressions on her face simply classic.

Don't worry. No toddlers were harmed in the creation of these photos. Which were taken in an airport. Because I was desperate.

During:

(She is so dramatic.)

















After:

(I didn't even get to the back. But at least my cornrows are improving!)

Crying, Writhing, Leg Locks, Frustration, Crawling Away, Begging, Dragon Tales, Caillou, etc.

The above things actually did not happen in our house this morning. For once.

Usually they do. And they're all associated with this little girl getting her hair combed.

Over the weekend, I told BD that I thought a hairdresser's chair might work.

And then I amended it to "a hairdresser's chair with tie-down straps."

It's always such a struggle to get this little girl "presentable-by-the-head" for the outside world.

So, we're at BRU yesterday and we see this.

Hmmmm...

We had a coupon, so we bought it.

And so far? It has worked.

Playette played happily (with some adhesive tape - courtesy of her dad) this morning while I did her hair.


Final Product

The Day the Comb Stood Still

Check out my busy girl. I was determined to have a quiet day on Sunday, but she had other plans. Like climbing in the dirty clothes to play, followed up by an adventure in the shower (where she promptly closed the door and trapped herself in).






This was all her. I just happened to catch her in the act. Trust me when I say that she's well supervised. She's just fast. And obviously has ideas of her own.

And don't even get me started about the hair. She does not leave the house like that.

I honestly wouldn't mind if we had matching hairstyles, but I'm not that bold...yet.

Scissor Happy: A Story in Pictures

I told you it was coming.