In my last post I wrote about getting the hair of my older daughters healthy during their first few years with us, and then making the decision to let them get extensions put in for school this year.

Last Thursday was the day we ventured to the black hair salon. We don't live in an area that has tons of places to choose from (in fact we drove three hours to get to this one, but were going out of town for other things, too). I had called around and checked on prices, willingness to work with kids, etc., however we found the place we did thanks to my husband. Josh coaches high school track, and at a meet this spring, he noticed a black girl with beautiful hair. He asked her where she got it done, (and after she got done laughing about the big white guy asking her who did her hair) she gave him the number of the place off of her cell phone.

What a dad!

The place actually was cheaper than others, sold the hair in the salon (other places made you buy it somewhere else and bring it with you and I really didn't know what I needed to buy) and they also claimed to be able to get it done pretty quickly. I know some girls have sat for up to eight hours to have these braids done, and their promised three hours was sounding a lot more doable to me.

We walked in and no one seemed to bat an eye that I was white (I later found out that they get quite a few adoptive families that come in). It was a very "family" place, with sisters, cousins, aunts, grandmothers and kids all hanging out together. There must have been at least 12 women and kids in there, and I was the only white one. At first I almost felt like we were intruding on a get together, but a short while later we felt like part of the party.

The girls' hair was done in under three hours as promised, and as you can see, the results are stunning. The ladies at the salon were wonderful. They affirmed that I had done a great job caring for the girls' hair, and were so much fun to talk with.

Most of the family had recently moved out this way from down South, so there was lots of talk about catfish, tea cakes, grits, greens, chitterlings and other soul food, that had the girls' mouths (and mine) watering.

The ladies were also very supportive of our family. One of the older women was talking about becoming a foster parent, and I told her that there was a huge need for black foster parents and adoptive parents. She said, "I don't know why that should matter. If you can love and care for a child, that is what matters. Color shouldn't have anything to do with it. Look how happy these girls are with you." I wanted to hug her.

All in all it was a wonderful experience. We met some wonderful people who I look forward to seeing again soon. The girls enjoyed every minute of it (except tender-headed Mercy was missing mom's patient hands!!) And the best part was watching the girls with their new hair. As we walked around they admired themselves in every mirror and window we passed. At dinner that night at a restaurant, Mercy went to the bathroom seven times to play with her hair!

It has been so much fun to see them so excited about their hair, and I have to admit that I am more than a little excited about having two months off from doing their hair.

I am glad that we took the step and took the girls to a black salon. It was a wonderful experience on many levels, and is something we will definitely continue.