Nine

IMGP0264The Dancing Queen is nine years old!

Last week, my third child turned nine. For her birthday, I gave to her pattern, fabric, and notions needed to make herself a new dress. The pattern is also for a matching doll dress (which we will make another day). Part of the gift was hours of one on one time with me as together we cut, sewed, and eventually modeled and photographed this new dress. It was lots of fun.

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This pattern in super cute – with button holes in the back of the bodice that the shoulder straps lace through.

IMGP0268And the matching shorts underneath make it very playground friendly.

IMGP0269Which was a good thing, considering that her birthday celebration was at John’s Incredible Pizza.

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So, another year gone by. Another child inches towards independence (or, should I say, shoots towards it at break-neck speed!)

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Happy Birthday, Dancing Queen! I love you!

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This Moment – Eight Years

A Friday ritual inspired by SouleMama. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Happy Eighth Birthday, Dancing Queen!

 

Just Dance

I rolled out of the bed on the wrong side this morning. Grouchiness was a cloud over my head. And, while I could point to several causes and say, “this ruined my day”, whether it be the baby trying out her teeth while nursing, or the Dancing Queen leaving water on the floor for the baby to crawl through, or the Munchkin and the Princess bickering over the rocking horse, it really wasn’t any of these things. My attitude was set before any of that happened, and that was why those things irked me so. Having a nursing baby bite me is old hat. Spilled water on the floor is a usual occurrence. It could be argued that the bickering and fussiness of the littles was caused by my grumps and not the other way around. No. This was not an “I’m having a rotten day” issue. I had just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.

So there I was making pancakes, fighting my irritation, dealing with the blows as they came and thinking to myself, “What a rotten day this is going to be if this is how it is starting out.” And that was when I realized something.

I have a choice.

Sure I could say that I am hormonally inclined to be grumpy today. I could even say that these stinking kids pushed me to it.

But I have a choice.

At this thought, I stopped what I was doing, went into the living room, and turned on the music. Loud. I just decided to dance.

Let me stop here and clarify. I did not feel like dancing. I did not want to dance. There was nothing in me that desired to dance. I wanted coffee, and quiet, and maybe to go back to bed. But I needed my body to tell my attitude how it was going to be today.

So we danced, the Dancing Queen, The Princess, The Munchkin, and I. As I danced past Baby V I scooped her up and reveled in her giggles as I swung her around in my arms. The Munchkin did her crazy chicken dance. All the bickering was over. Soon, The Bookworm and The Boy straggled down the stairs to see what was going on. They were bleary eyed but smiling, and then they danced, too. By the end of the song we were all smiles. And then I felt better.

There is a great analogy for life in here somewhere, but I don’t have time to get all philosophical, so you can draw your own conclusions. As for me, I am just going to dance.