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Writings on Motherhood, Judaism, and Happily-Ever-Afters

A really good day

It was a stellar day all the way around.

Jessie has her first semi-formal coming up, and today was dress shopping day.  On a good day, Jessie and I don’t like to shop, and shopping with the intent to purchase is always a challenge.  I headed to the mall with my mother and both girls.  We started at Macy’s and I swear to God, the poor kid tried on 87,000 dresses.  We tried colored ones, and black and navy ones.  Flowered ones, lacy ones and stripes.  So.Many.Dresses.  At the last minute, just before we left to go try another store, we found a strapless one hanging on the rack to be returned back to the floor.  A strapless.  For my fourteen year old.

She tried it on… and it was beautiful.  She’s so tall and so gorgeous, and there was this one moment, when she had come out and spun around in this dress that looked so much more adult than anything else she’d ever worn – and I literally had to blink away tears.  BECAUSE IT WAS YESTERDAY THAT SHE WAS A TODDLER.  I try to roll with it – they grow up, it happens, thank God.  But mostly, they grow up in little bits and pieces, and I swear to God, it happened with Jessie overnight, and I still can’t get used to it.

Sam went to a birthday party today.  Let’s just sit with that a minute.  Sam went to a birthday party today.  With kids from his old school.   He wanted to go so badly – but he’s wanted to go do things before as badly, and couldn’t get past the anxiety.  I was so stressed about it, because I knew how badly he wanted to go, and was so worried that he’d panic at the last minute.  Or worse, try to go and end up embarrassing himself with an anxiety attack.  But he went.  And enjoyed it, played, ate pizza and cake just like the accident had never happened.

And not to be left out… I had Julianna all day at the mall with me.  She was so patient… I had brought a kindle with a movie downloaded already, so she sat and watched that while Jessie tried the 87,000 dresses.  When we were leaving – she and I rode the escalator.  Five times.   And it struck me that this may well be the last time I have a daughter of mine that wants nothing more than to ride the escalator, over and over again, and wants me to do it with her.  She’s seven, and let’s be honest, I hate shopping.  It really might the last time.

I miss having little ones, I do.  But holy cow, I really do love having these three.  The one that’s taller than I am, and so gorgeous, I can’t believe she’s mine.  The one who’s so unbelievably enduring, who handles the worst life can throw at him and manages to come thru it intact.  And my baby, my little love, with her beautiful eyes and sweet, sweet smile, who still wants to ride the escalator with me.  Over and over and over and over.

 

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