Except for a little vomiting from the carpool set, things are looking up today. YS went back to school today with his remarkable shiner and OF COURSE it's picture day. OD ventured back with two knees wrapped (superfluous if you ask me) and a large dose of ibuprofen under her belt. The other two moped about their ordinary status, no attention-getting injuries for them. But the point is, EVERYONE is at school today. woo hoo! Not that I don't miss them terribly and count the hours until their return...
Today I'm going to print out Studydork. That is always the most exciting thing when you print it out formatted and everything. That last or nearly last printing is just the best feeling.
This morning I'm mining some memories. Remember picture day as a kid? The great debate of wearing what YOU think looks cool for pictures and what your mom wants you to wear? And the whole no ponytail thing for pictures even if you wear one every day of your life. Then there's always the kids whose parents make them wear a suit and tie or ridiculously frilly dresses. I think I can remember every outfit I ever wore for a school picture. The funny thing is, the better I thought I looked at the time, the worse it looks now. Take my senior picture for example. Remember how they take a whole series of shots, changing outfits and everything. It was truly ridiculous. Well, I chose a RED background. I thought it looked fabulous. And I wore this short electric blue and black sweater (from The Limited, of course) with a longer shirt underneath it with a stirrup pants (think 1986, folks). My enormous mane of hair was curly and abundant (and if you look closely at the picture, you can see little hairs all over my sweater from brushing my hair right before the picture, I guess). Anyway, that picture now elicits more howls of delight than any joke I could tell or event I could recount. Though I've hidden that picture dozens of times, my daughters think it's just funny enough to pull it out again and again. And I actually don't mind seeing it. It makes me smile because I remember that I thought I looked fabulous that day. Truly. And that's all that really matters. So I hope my sweet little boy can, for one moment, forget about his shiner and think he looks fabulous. Because he's the cutest little black-eyed kid ever. (although he insists it's not a black eye, it's a purple eye, and he's right). Take a moment and recall your picture days. I'd love to hear from you about YOUR favorite picture day moments.
My Mission Statement
I write to serve, to unite, to educate. I write to share literature and flesh out ideas that may be of interest to others. I write to document an emotion, experience, or a blip in time. My mission is to write in such a way that the reader is reminded that we can find humor in all situations. It's one of the great blessings of life.