Every Little Girl's Dream

July 29, 1981....I remember waking up early that morning. So early it was still dark outside. I sat on the floor of my family's living room just inches from the television set, soaking in every detail of what was happening on the other side of the world. It was the day I fell in love with Princess Diana, the 20 year old girl who had no idea what she was getting herself into or who she would become in the years that followed.

I couldn't stop looking at her dress. The acres of silk that enveloped the real-life princess, the bows and lace and tulle. The big, over the top sleeves and the veil that shrouded but couldn't quite hide the uncertainty on her face. I was obsessed with that dress for years throughout my childhood. My interest in her faded, but the event that was her royal wedding.....that stayed. The tradition, the history, the reverence for things of old. I'm still enchanted by all of it.

I knew it would be a stretch trying to get up at 3:00 this morning to see her son marry his own princess. My life is complicated and I don't get much sleep. My own child went to bed early last night and I had hopes of actually pulling it off. Those hopes were dashed when he woke up around 10 p.m. not feeling well. I sat with him and snuggled on the couch until well after midnight while we watched The Incredibles again for what must have been the twentieth time.

I didn't bother to set my alarm for 3 a.m. as planned. It wasn't going to happen. But as soon as the alarm went off at 6, I checked the news sites for a glimpse of Kate's dress. I had missed the big event, but I still got to see the princess....

I've noticed a lot of annoyance today with the wedding and the attention devoted to it. I understand. Really, I do. There are many, many things going on in the larger world and in our own smaller worlds within. But to criticize others' enjoyment of the celebration just seems mean spirited and self-righteous to me. Let them celebrate. Let there be joy. God knows we need some. And if you don't want to participate, then don't.

But just for a few minutes, let me remember what it was like to be 5 years old....Please.

It All Works Out in the End

I normally am not without things to share here, but lately I've found myself standing before this blank, white canvas only to look down and realize I have no paint. No instruments or medium with which to share my words, my thoughts, my feelings.

I have officially reached end of semester burnout. Even so, I had a stellar start to my day. Woke up an hour early and ironed Jason's clothes for work, scrambled eggs for him and Wes, made and packed lunches for both, and even managed to apply make-up before heading out of the house right on time (for once)....only to discover upon arriving at Kids Day Out that I had forgotten Wes' glasses.

Fail.

No worries, just e-mail the boss and head back home. Exactly an hour later, I made it back to the school and delivered the glasses. His class was lining up outside to return to their room from recess. I was so glad to have the unplanned gift of seeing him again this morning. Once he recognized me (another reason I'm glad I went back for the glasses) he darted over to me at the door to his classroom and gave me a big hug. The day will come when he will no longer do this in front of his friends. But for now, it's still cool to have your mom stop by at school.

His cheeks were red and warm from playing outside. The tips of his hair were slightly damp just around his little round face. He plays hard. And tonight I will open his green folder and review his letter tracing sheets and craft, child's play from what I have been warned to expect from what is apparently now cut-throat kindergarten. Until then, I can still feel the warmth of his face and his enthusiastic hug, my rewards for being accidentally, and happily, forgetful.