I don’t remember as a child making a judgement on shorts and jeans based on if I could do cartwheels in them. I was and am still quite decent at cartwheels, round-offs, and handsprings. However, I don’t remember deliberately making fashion choices hinging on those activities.
For the past month, everything my 6yr old wears has to pass “the cartwheel test.” This means she literally does a dress rehearsal of the outfit- every single day- with cartwheels across the living room.
You’d be shocked at how many outfits don’t pass the test! This means she repeats the whole process over until the fashion matches the function.
This morning, she wasn’t feeling the cartwheel approved outfit we chose last night, so the outfit was reworked. She settled on turquoise converse shoes, black and turquoise athletic pants, and a flowered pearl snap blouse.
I’m quite positive I wouldn’t have chosen this combo, but she’s rocking it with a strawberry colored, non-brushed messy bun. Honestly, she’s pulling it off in impressive style.
Wouldn’t it be great to take a page from her book on fashion and confidence? I’ll add this to the growing list of things my daughter has taught me.
Just in case you’re wondering if I’m still here… yes… yes I am. I wrote an entry a couple of weeks ago, published, and deleted it. I wrote last week, but after a re-read it was just too personal (see family issues below).
My crew and I just crossed the finish line on three ridiculous months of juggling all-things-life.
- Busiest season at work
- Husband/ business partner gone long-term twice
- Multiple school programs
- Volunteer activities at church and in community
- Christmas gathering – then Christmas again – then Christmas again
- Annual MS scan and labs – I always EXPECT these to go well, just anxiety.
- Driving the mom-bus to gymnastics, 4-H, and youth group
- Kids’ orthodontist appointments – EVERY MONTH!!! What?!?!
- And then we slide into this past week….
- Family issues
- Finding out I am signed up for treats both Tuesday and Wednesday at school
- Being called a “dirty whore” by an addict on my way into the pancake supper at church when I asked her if she needed help. Then she looked at my husband and said he’s “a good guy” and we “have nice kids.” Right…..
So there you go. It was more of a three-legged race where we were also supposed to be rubbing our bellies and patting our heads while singing Christmas carols with gusto.
My end of the year reflection is an annual occurrence. As if on repeat, my head shakes at lunacy we’ve just subjected ourselves to. Following closely behind the head shaking is a vow that “next year will be different!”
We can only hope.