A school dance story
Last night, I had a date with my little dude to attend his school's dance with him. In the days leading up to yesterday, in true #MomFail fashion, I played the "I have plenty of time to look for an outfit for him" game. Well the day came and I realized, dude didn't have shit to wear. He's a sweatpants and sneakers kind of kid. The last time we bought formal wear was for a funeral and they have grown A LOT since then.
Time to whip out the Christmas gift cards.
I ran to the store while he was in school and guestimated his pant size. Another #MomFail is not knowing the kid's size and praying your mommy-senses work without fail. I scoured through the young men's section, said a prayer with a bit of eeny-meeny-miney-moe, and picked a pair of dress pants. Got home just in time to have my eldest grab him from the bus. Little dude tried them on and thank you Jesus, the pants ALMOST fit! They fit where it matters but were too long. Nothing that cuffing wouldn't fix.
Tiny humans everywhere!
We arrived at the school. Long lines. Many, many, many tiny humans. However, I was honored to be there as the first lady on my little dude's arm. The music was awesome and the decorations looked really nice. The kids were all dolled up accompanied by parents who were just as fancy.
So we enter the space where the fun was to be had and I immediately pinpointed my corner for the night. My little dude scanned the floor and found one friend, said hi, then explored the rest of area with me. The DJ put on a slow song but little dude didn't want to dance. In fact, we didn't dance at all together. I was fine with that because like me, kid didn't want the attention. So I didn't push. As the night progressed, he did dance alone off to the side of the rest of kids to "Whip It Nae Nae" and I very much enjoyed watching.
He was having the time of his life, alone. That used to bug me until I got to see for myself how particular he is with just about anything. He's very observant and intuitive in knowing who he will jive with. So he's very selective in picking who he calls friend.
Now back in my corner, I am privy to the not so private conversations to be had among the other moms. I listen in because I have no choice - I am NOT leaving my corner so fuck that idea - I am dying inside. I center my focus back to the tiny humans because they're all so remarkable to me. They're dancing, running, spinning, jumping, pushing, pulling, screaming. I am making bets with myself in who is gonna get hurt first, who's gonna get yelled at first. I'm also making friends with a teeny tiny human who is proud of his lollipop and thought mine was cool. His mom I think is like me, she is in my corner. We talk a bit. Just a bit to keep it nice for the teeny tiny human. A little girl is injured and is soothed with an ice pack. Not a bet I wanted to win.
Things started to come to an end and I'm happy to say we survived the night. I'm sure you noticed there isn't a lot of pictures. I left my camera home because I wanted to enjoy this night, not as a photographer but simply as his mom. I am counting on these words and single photograph to trigger these memories later on when I need to recall them.
Do yourself a favor moms and dads, keep a journal. In later years, you'll thank yourself and so will your children.
sherrie LANELL (Click to learn a bit more about me)