Smeyesing and Rachel

Jessie went off on her own yesterday morning to get her hair cut and her eyebrows done (she is a true Canadian with the requisite unibrow, if left to its own devices). She called me on the bus on the way home, very excited. “Mom! The bangs were too short and in my eyes, so she curled it and braided it out of my eyes!” Jess is in heaven when her hair gets curled, a throw-back to her Shirley Temple obsession.

When she got home, she did indeed look beautiful, so I took out the camera and we sat outside for a photo. I wasn’t sure how long she would be able to leave the braid in, as she undoes anything physically put in her hair (as well as on her body, like jewelry or belts—I’m sure there is a sensory issue here, but have just learned to live with it)
“Jess, smile!”
“Mohhhhm!” She intones disdainfully. “I’m smeyesing!”

How stupid of me not to notice! Smeyesing is, apparently, smiling with your eyes! That’s what we learned yesterday from Rachel when she joined us at the local pool for the afternoon and dinner that evening (the girls, of course, wearing their tye-die shirts from yesterday). Rachel doesn’t travel very far without her camera, and she is a wonderful photographer. She also has the delightful capacity to play with it with her friends—producing everything from artsy film-noire portraits to kitschy, posed, America’s-next-top-model parodies.

Sunday was a parody day. Hence “smeyesing,” which Rachel (in her wry and witty observational manner) informed us was de rigour for all top models. She knows this because she spends her nights, when not out with friends, trawling internet TV and has spontaneous and short-lived obsessions with various reality, drama, and documentary shows. Her passions range from (of course) America’s next top model and House to gory realistic medical procedure shows and late night interviews with Nobel prize winners.

Sunday was a top model day and Jessie was delighted to play. . . right through to the ride home at night, where the girls photographed each other in zany poses with the wind from the open window blowing through their hair.

And as I sat in the front seat driving through the darkness with sudden flashes of light and laughter as they took pictures, I thought about how lucky we are to know Rachel—a fresh wind blowing through our lives and blessing us with random bursts of delight.

Bang On

Today (June 10) Jessie met me at the mall after school so she could get her hair cut. That was a disaster, although she is fine with the cut now. Jessie has developed her own relationship with the esthetician (a delightful young woman with brightly coloured hair and a way with Jess) and the people at the salon. She negotiates her own way with the hair dresser, but yesterday was a challenge. Jessie kept telling her to cut the sides shorter, but she didn’t want bangs. Insistent about that. But what is the demarcation point for bangs? “Shorter,” says Jessie. “Do you want bangs?” asks the hairdresser. “No!” says Jessie. So the hairdresser stops just short of bangs, but Jessie doesn’t like the way the hair falls into her eyes. “Shorter!” she commands. “But I can’t go any shorter without turning them into bangs!” says the hairdresser! (I exit at this point. Is that cruel of me? I just wander out into the mall.) “But I don’t want them falling into my eyes!” says Jessie! She flips her head angrily. The hairdresser eyes me with what looks like panic as she sees me walking out of the salon. I leave them to figure it out. When I turn around Jessie is walking towards the cash with tears in her eyes, shaking her head and trying to get the bangs/not bangs out of her eyes. I let her pay, then meet her outside the salon. “But I don’t like them falling in my eyes!” she wails. The hairdresser comes out. Everyone is looking at us. “Is she all right?” she says? “She wanted them shorter, but not bangs, so I tried to do what she asked!?” I tell her its okay. It’s a learning opportunity! (She looks at me as if I am the most insane mother she has ever met . . .) Jess and I sit down at a table in the food court and go over what happened. I’m still not sure what she envisioned, but we talk about communication and I assure her that she looks beautiful (she does!). Then, as she is walking, and she flips the hair out of her eyes, and suddenly turns from sullen into delighted! “I think I am just like Stella in the Jonas Brothers, see!” and she flips her hair again, in some—only known to her—gesture that is obviously mimicking what she has seen on TV. It’s all okay now! She is just like a character on TV that she idolizes and life is fine. Hooray for TV I say (but not out loud)!