boy or girl?

So today at one of Scott's innumerable doctor's appointments, a well-meaning older lady asked if Juliet was a boy or a girl.

This is what she was wearing:



We've got a pink outfit with embroidered flowers, pink satin bows, a pink tulle ruffle, and pink-and-purple butterfly shoes.

People, I realize this may not be the face that launched a thousand ships, but surely that outfit doesn't scream "BOY" in our culture, does it?

Incidentally, Juliet is getting better at sitting up. That's not to say "good", but she can balance for a while if we're lucky. Here she is midway down on the descent - I'm just including this photo because it's about the only one where we've caught her smiling so far!

another new hairdo and the comment that inspired it

And I outdid myself this time. At least, Eleanor sure thinks so, judging from the amount of complaining she did. We did "star" braids on each side of her head, coming together to form two little pigtails of braids.




The problem here is that, because her hair is so short and fine, these braids will start to get fuzzy in just a few days, and will be past my fuzziness-toleration-quotient in a couple weeks. So all this work will need to be picked out and redone. On the plus side, I think I'm getting faster; this style only took about two-three hours over the course of two days.

Funny story (or funny if you weren't me): I was down at the Moody Church Halloween festival with the kids, and it was a nice diverse crowd. Eleanor's costume is a flamingo with a big feathered flamingo hat. Very cute. But she stopped wanting to wear the hat about halfway through the evening, and so I was holding it. Unfortunately, we had taken out her last set of braids the previous evening, then washed her hair and combed it out into what was (I thought) a cute little Afro with a headband. I usually let her hair "rest" for a few days between braided styles, both to let her follicles relax and because after picking it all out, I just don't have the energy or time to tackle another complicated hairstyle immediately.

But I guess I should have taken the trouble this time. Her little Afro got smashed flat and funny looking under the hat, and in addition gathered tiny pink feather lint all over it. And then she insists on removing the hat. And this very kind, well-intentioned African-American woman walks over to me, and asks, "Are those your foster kids?" I say, "Well, they're adopted, but they're my kids, yes." She takes my hand, leans in, and gently asks, "Do you have any African-American friends who can help you with her hair? Do you know how to do it? I would be glad to help out if you need some help."

Sigh.

It was a kind offer, and I admit, Eleanor's hair did look unfortunately like "white mama hair." I politely tried to explain the situation and I hope I came across not too defensive. But now I know I need to plan better: if we're going to be in public, I guess her hair needs a bit more style (this coming from the woman whose only hairdo is a ponytail).

Or else we need to invest in hats.

the aviary

Our thanks to Aunt Cammie for the hand-me-down mother/baby flamingo costumes! We got lots of compliments on them. And Miles was an owl, in case you couldn't tell.