It's been a hair kinda weekend. Let's start with Jackie. For Christmas, Santa brought her a pair of her "very own scissors." When I opened the package from Santa, we had an at length discussion about what we use scissors for. A very integral part of the discussion was about how we never use our "very own scissors" to cut our hair. I put the scissors up high and only pull them out under supervision.
So Friday night, she decides she needs to cut up some paper into minute pieces to scatter everywhere. This cutting is one of the things her preschool teacher asked us to do with her to help fine motor skills (since she hates coloring). So she's hacking up a sheet of white paper and I move into the other room (with open doorways and within my line of sight) for all of 2 minutes.
She pops into the room and stands next to me. I reach out for her hair on the left side of her head and see the hack job. I couldn't believe it. Her absolutely beautiful long blonde hair was chopped up. She said she cut the pieces that kept falling in her face.
Now I don't cuss at my kids too often but boy did I go off. Hair is now a sacred topic to me and I take fabulous care of my kid's hair especially now given that I have so little. In any event, I marched her upstairs for a tongue lashing and proceeded to layer her hair to hide the damage. Fastest hair cut I ever did with her sobbing all the while.
She was roundly punished for all of Saturday with no TV, which to her, is the end of the world. We all got through it but I do believe she realizes she is not allowed to cut her hair with her "very own scissors" anymore. I hope.
By the way, when she first discovered her gift from Santa at Christmas, she clasped her hands together and let out a gasp and said, "My very own scissors!" It was cute then - it's not cute now. Santa needs to be kicked in the butt.
Onto the hair epiphany. I decided I was tired of strange women asking me if I was Jackie's grandma so I decided to color my hair with a box from the store. As much as I love my hairdresser Kim, I won't be paying her $180 to color my hair anytime soon. It's not worth it for 2 inches of hair.
So I got my box, follow the directions and with Bill's help, color the gray right outta my hair. Except I hated the color. So I decided the next day that I would get a much lighter color since my hair came in really dark. In actually, I really couldn't tell you what color my hair was before the cancer because it had been foiled for so many years. Maybe a honey golden blonde with some dark brown and light brown highlights mixed in.
So I apply the second round of haircolor Friday night, hoping to lighten the dark color which just isn't me. No dice. My hair won't take color now. Bill swears it removed some of the red highlights but I don't believe him. After 25 minutes, nothing. Not a hint. It looked like I applied the same color as I did the first time.
So I go hunting across the internet trying to find out what I did wrong. Turns out my hair shafts are full or somesuch and need to be clarified before they can take more color. I need to wait for a week or so, maybe longer until my stupid hair can take more color.
Call me shocked because I used to be able to process my hair to kingdom come and it just took the punishment.
So I now have well-hidden gray in too dark hair and it's ticking me off. But at least the gray is hidden.
I will report on the next coloring when I'm on vacation when I next attempt to get my hair shafts to absorb some lighter color than the one that's currently on my head.
Note to all who plan to color their stubby hair: go as close to your color of preference as possible because the hair shaft might rebel. I need to check on this with Kim for verification but I suspect the shafts have absorbed all the color they can right now.
Now it's soft and fluffy but the wrong color. I keep pulling on it hoping it will grow faster :)
The fun never ends...