Skip to main content

sunday, SUNday, SUNDAY!

It's a small world after all!

Betina, my sister says she knows your sister-in-laws (2 of them) from church in Abq. How crazy is that?? Also, we wanted to offer you a box of clothes that is sitting upstairs in Carly's closet. If you send me an email of your address I would be most happy to pass them along to you at our expense (only the good ones of course!) jtedst at yahoo dot com. So many of Carly's pretty things were gifts or pass alongs that I love sharing them and most of them were barely worn.

You asked if you should just get Ivy's hair wet and put some conditioner on it. I'd say...if it's really dirty, wash it. Dry is better than dirty. If it's not dirty, don't get it wet unless you have to. I really try to pick hairstyles for Carly that will last more than a couple of days - I know, it goes against that white girl instinct again, but don't panic. When the time comes and if you choose to put Ivy's hair in corn rows or other types of braids, they are meant to stay in for up to 3 weeks. That's right, 3 weeks without washing hair. It's scary. Unless Ivy has a completely different texture than Carly, though, you will notice that once braided or pony tailed or tamed, her hair is pretty thin and probably doesn't get greasy dirty. When it does come time to braid, some kind of hair grease/oil is needed on the parts to keep it from getting to dry. And rinsing in the bath is fine, I never had a problem with Carly's braids in water, so long as you follow up with moisturizer, grease or whatever you prefer.

I found this really great site, although I haven't had time to read it all. My advice is pretty skimpy compared to the wealth of information you can find there.

And lest you think Carly's hair is always the cute....Behold!




This is why I buy hats.



p.s. I found some really cute hats at Claire's, there is a great section just for baby girl types at the back of the store.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Dear Carly (on your 9th birthday),

I can't remember what it is like to turn nine years old.  From watching you turn nine, it must have been difficult because it seems like everything is either really, really greator really, really bad.  Some days I think I might get whiplash from the mood swings (and you're not a teenager yet!).   But overall, I think nine must also be really wonderful.  You seem to be full of joy, even moments after being full of woe.  It's as if the joy just pushes the other stuff out.  It practically oozes from your pores.  More than that, on the days you choose to be happy, the whole world sings with you.  People are infected by it, drawn in to your sweet smile and shining eyes.  Attracted like bugs to a light.  You shine, dear little diva, so brightly sometimes it's blinding.

We just spent three weeks together in California, and I must have complained too much about your behavior because your dad believes we are oil and water right now.  I'd prefer to see us as oil and vinegar …