Where's My Cape?

Future Project Runway Finalist 2030

(But not National Spelling Bee Finalist)

The artist formerly known as Boy

Boy1, as he's holding one of my kitten heels upside down: Why does this have a stem?

Boy1 has, under my nose, turned into, well a boy. He's stretched out - face now more ovaloid than round. I watched him walk away from me the other day and it struck me all of a sudden how tall he's gotten. Yet, he's still mama's boy and says "Mama" or "Mommy" more than probably any other word over the course of the day. Often in rapid succession - I guess to make it absolutely clear it's my attention he craves.

Boy1's babyness lingers on, though, reverting frequently to helplessness even though we all know he is becoming more and more competent and able. These moments sometimes frustrate me to no end, especially when I'm tired and stressed and don't want to deal with the I-can't-do-x-You-do-it routine. Then other times, his big boyness throws me for a loop, and I can't quite believe how much he can do all by himself.

Language - that's been huge. Those complicated sentences and sentiments - have me often floored. When I asked him who he played with yesterday, Boy1 told me that he chose to play with A, a girl who was sick, since he wanted to make her feel better. I'm not sure how unusual it is for a 3.7 year old boy to be that considerate and thoughtful but he does things like this quite frequently. Like how he'll bring grandma's cup of water to her (filling the cup himself) in the morning since she always likes a cup of water first thing. Or saving pieces of treats he treasures to share with Mommy. Boy1 is going to be a serious catch one day. *insert heart palpitations*

I often wonder what the effect of his birth order will have on him. Being the middle child is no joke. He is self-declared shy - at gymnastics warm ups he usually just stands there, watching everyone, while all the other boys and girls are running around in circles as they are supposed to. Warm-ups are apparently just not his thing. And up until last night, he did not do any public singing in front of crowds. School performances would involve no lip movement besides a smile at me, slowly morphing into a complete absence of smile - not feeling that either. But last night, Boy sang at a school function. There was even the occasional body motion accompaniment. My heart swelled. I think it helped him to be standing next to a good (girl)friend who was way into the singing.

I've decided I need more patience with him, more one-on-one time. Somehow, the other day, we ended up lying in my walk-in closet looking through a box of miscellanea together - alone - he had pulled on one of his ties on his pants and it came clear off into his hands. This sent us both into giggles. Later, he had said something to the effect of, "Remember how we had funny things together?" The look in his eyes was unfiltered love.

He's growing up. I want him to. And I don't.

 

 

 

Pritty cool

A book by Girl.

(note flattened out crown that can be easily assembled with tape or non-toxic glue stick)

 

 

6 going on 16

[While driving home from school]

Girl: I love you, Mama, but I think I love Daddy more.

Me: OK.

Girl: It's because he's away so I love him more. But when he comes back, I'll love you both.

Me: OK.

Girl: Are you okay with that?

Me: Yes. It's okay. I love Daddy too.

Girl: Do you love me or Daddy more?

Me: Well, I love you both, just differently. I love Daddy as my husband and I love you as my child. And I love you, Boy, and Boy2 the same.

Girl: Because we're all your children.

Me: Right. But, even though I love you the same, you may have different needs because of how old you are.

Girl: Like how we'll need a cellphone when we're 16.

 

 

Things to remember next time I do runway modeling

So...not much going on here, except for MODELING IN A FASHION SHOW. I know, no one expected that, least of all me - mom-of-three-going-into-old-age-me. But, charity called and I am unable to resist an offer to walk a runway and have people do my hair and makeup. Completely defenseless against those offers. Heck, just the hair and makeup alone sold me. What?  I liked to be primped on. I am only a little bit girly.

There I was, one of only a handful of mere mortals (read: older, less glam real-people models) among very skinny very young very unbashful professional models. I watched them in our huge get-ready room show their walks while wearing their outfits thinking OMG - I am so ill-prepared for this.

But, really, I was unprepared. My only instructions were to show up at 3 and to have a pair of dress shoes. THAT'S IT. That is way too little info. Like what kind of dress shoes? What would I be wearing? What, praytell, should my underwear look like? These are all critical pieces of information that were left out of my memo.

The points were not moot since I was asked multiple times (accompanied by a look of disbelief/horror): What? You're not wearing a black strapless bra??? (Why no, why would I be?? Do I look like I received a memo about this?) And also: Do you have another pair of shoes? Wear anything but those shoes!!! (Please note I brought a lovely -or so I thought- pair of black satin sandal stilettos that had a strap across the toes and a strap running diagonally across the foot and around the ankle. They were lovely but apparently, ALL WRONG FOR FASHION SHOWS.) Mental note: next time I am walking the runway with real models, bring lots of shoes, including plain black pumps.

A runway coach of some kind walked me through the steps. He cracked me up (internally, because on the outside, I was very serious.). We did 8 steps down the runway, struck a couple of poses, walked halfway back. Did some slow motion pivot turns, walked back to the beginning of the runway, posed again, then down the steps. It was a lot to remember.

My hair got seriously curled and pinned up - it looked awesome and the hair stylist thought so too since she kept taking photos of it and grabbing her friends to look at my hair creation. My makeup was a bit extreme - like Extreme Makeover, but for faces. Holy face! I avoided mirrors.

I was supposed to only walk the runway with the other mortals...but last minute, was shooed up with the REAL MODELS for the opening act. As in ME + THEM. Ha! Can you say 'terrified?' My mortal friends were cheering me on everytime I looked over at them with a look of "help me! I'm going to die!" There was a gorgeous model in front of me who kept giving me pep talks - you will do great! Just breathe! BREATHE! She was exotic and gorgeous and kind. Before I knew it, the music was pumping and it was my turn. I took a gulp and the rest was kind of blur. Cameras snapping. All eyes on me. Crazy! But thrilling! It was over before I knew it (really only 30+ seconds of walking) but think it went well. Mortal friends told me I rocked it!

I got to change into another outfit and walk the runway again for the mortal special.

Honestly, I had a blast and a half. Total, total thrill. Now wondering whether I could ever get this kind of fix again...there must be a market for older, wider, shorter runway models right? If so, I'm there!