As I walked in to the old building the memories flashed before my eyes. Then I walked into the gym and the smell took me back. It was surreal. My middle school gym had not changed one bit, even after all these years. The old scoreboard, the hoops, the rings hanging from the ceiling. All the same. I even felt like I could hear the sound of Aerosmith's "What It Takes" playing as I envisioned my first slow dance with Eric Peters in the corner of that dark gym in 7th grade.
It was hard to believe I was now dropping my daughter off in this same gym where I had cheerleading try-outs, learned to play basketball, and climbed the rope in gym class.
She was taking part in the GHS Dance Team Clinic and they were practicing for their big performance in the Coultrap gym.
As a kindergartner, she was one of the youngest girls there. She clung to my leg begging me not to leave her.
When I came back to pick her up, she was all smiles and proudly showed me her pom-pons and her blue T-shirt she was to wear that night.
We climbed in the car and, like clockwork, I knew this was coming...she held up her shirt and gave it the once over and said, "Yeah, I am not going to wear this tonight. It looks like it is for a boy."
This seems to be the way things are going lately for her and I. Just when I think she is happy and agreeable, she inevitably throws me a curve ball. And don't get me started on the sass that comes out of her mouth. Heck, not just lately, actually her whole life. But right now there is a constant power struggle in our house between her and I. I remind her that she can be the princess, but not to forget who the queen is.
So, long story short, (too late) we went home and worked some magic with that blue T-shirt. The little fashionista, of course, had her opinion of what should be different about this shirt. I made the mistake of turning on Fashion Police on E! the other day while she was in the room. She had just as many comments and opinions about the dresses on the stars as Joan Rivers and Kelly Osbourne did. I would like that dress in a different color. That dress is too long. That one shouldn't have straps. Oh yeah, she's FIVE!!!
This is why I need to learn to sew. To keep the peace around here. So, I followed her directions and cut off the bottom of the shirt so it would be shorter (she refuses to tuck anything in). Then it was too wide, so I hand stitched from the inside and took in the sleeves and the sides. She was the only girl dancing in their own custom-designed blue T-shirt.
Then, she was supposed to wear leggings or shorts with her shirt...she insisted on a skirt...oohhh kaaay. White gym shoes? Nope, pink sequined. I wouldn't expect anything less.
And she wouldn't put her oufit on at home. She had to wear her own clothes and bring it with her to change when she got there.
Well, she looked great and danced her little butt off. I was proud. And needless to say, completely exhausted. I am resting up now for prom dress shopping.
I like her facial expression in this one. Work it, girl.
Brynn, you wear me out girl. But I love you.