Thursday, September 3, 2015

Picture Day

Despite multiple tactics - going to bed early, meditating, even setting a later alarm - I continue to have a difficult time waking w/ any level of functional energy.  I'm in a daze.

The thought has hit my mind that I've taken ownership of the slow wake that became Jill's MO over the last couple years.  No comfort in this thought.  It

I feel the thud of the laptop hit the foot of my bed while I still lay in it this morning.  I peel my eyes open just enough to see Ro punching fingers at the keyboard w/ a clear mission written on her face.

"Hey...whatcha doin'?" I slur out.

"It's picture day today.  It's fashion show time.  Need help deciding my outfit!" She throws this back at me w/ assertive energy and a beaming smile.

I pull my head off the pillow and point it in the direction of this morning's model.

The music begins.  It's the radio pop song de jour.  "...Cause baby I'm worth it..."

I no likey, but roll w/ it.

Ro proceeds to own the catwalk that also happens to be the rug at the end of my bed.  She elongates her stride, tossing her hair as if she was trained when I wasn't looking.  (And I'm always looking.)

"What'd you think of this one?" she says referring to outfit #1.

"I like," I say thru my haze.

Ro exits my room as the music continues to puncture my ear holes.

She proceeds to come back...three times...and strut her stuff for all me to see.

Mommy should be here.

We both agree and land on outfit #1.  It's a tasteful black-&-teal striped 3/4 length sleeve top coupled w/ black leggings.  (Is it 'leggings' or 'leggins'?)  I wouldn't be surprised to see a teacher wearing the same thing.

Ro explains to me that her teacher suggested the girls where dresses today.  But, Ro has no intention of wearing a dress.  "It's one of a thousand pictures I'm sure I'll be in this year.  Why do I have to dress up?  Why can't I just be myself?"

No arguments here.  I love my kid.

No arguments from Jilly either.

As long as Ro looks presentable and not disheveled, we're all good.

"What's the plan for the hair?" I ask hesitantly.

I have hair style limitations.

I can brush it out.  I can pony it up.  I can even pigtail it if the morning is going my way.

Anything outside of these arguably simple options and I'm fucked.  We're fucked.

So, this is a loaded question I hope works in our collective favor.

"I think I just want to wear it down, Dad," Ro responds.

Thank goodness.  Dodged a(nother) bullet.  Though I can't help but think that Ro has made this decision knowing my limitations.  And this makes me sad...

In addition to her completed homework and healthy lunch, Ro packs her brush and a set of more casual clothes to change into after morning pictures.

All she needs now is her smile.

That's the easy part.

All love,

J, J, & r

Say cheeeeeeeeese

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