Beauty

Today was it: dance picture day! The day that I'd been dreading. How much makeup? Can I make a decent bun? Why are my hippy dippy tendencies slowly being swallowed up by my suburban momness? Why do I care? Why do I fight it? It has been suggested that I tend to make simple things complicated and am my own worst enemy. Perhaps.

Friday was the last day of school and I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said it had been one heck of a year. There has been way too much sickness, way too much angst, and an obscene amount of exhaustion on all fronts. Caroline summed it up best "The last month of school it all goes down hill. The house falls apart and we all just try to survive. Then school lets out and you put it all back together." Part of that putting together is a crazy amount of annual doctors appointments. The timing is convenient, the bills all at once are not. We descended upon the eye doctors office en mass; leaving having purchased two pairs of glasses, new lenses, and contacts for Caroline.

Of course with contacts come makeup. I don't mind make up. I wear a little of it and like the way it looks. It hides subtle flaws (bags under my eyes, thin brows) and enhances what I like (almond shaped green eyes and full lips). I am more of a nut about skin care, sunscreen, lotion, face washing every night, I do it all. My great grandmother, Caroline's namesake, was stunning and it was because of her milky skin. I want the same. If she had lived to see me get older, I am sure that she would have taught me her secrets. Instead, I learned from Seventeen magazine and some girlfriends. I have always wanted to teach the girls myself. I want them to avoid that "street walker look" that is favored today and to learn how to enhance what they have. I am kind of excited. After Caroline is used to the contacts (two weeks), I am taking her out to buy what she needs/wants.

It seems like all of this has brought out my inner diva. I woke up early today to get ready for dance pictures at 11:45. I followed all of the advice that I had been given and made a darn good bun. I used enough hair spray and gel to make a Robert Palmer girl blush. Lily really wanted makeup and I plan on using it for the recital, not because I want to be on "Tantrums and Tiarras," but because I know stage lights wash you out. For today, I figured a little blush, clear mascara, and pink lipstick would be fun. She loved it! We got to the studio right on time and no one was there. I checked the schedule and the pictures were at 1:45. In my haste to do it right, I'd messed up the times. Luckily my kids are used to this quirk of mine and we adjusted. The ultimate outcome is I can make a bun that lasts all day. Score!! I can check that worry off of my list of absurd worries.

Lily loved everything about the photo session. I have to say, I have loved meeting the other moms. Yes, there was a touch of stage mom with tutu adjusting and lipstick reapplication or in my case adjusting her leotard to cover her tush. But there was just as much camaraderie. We gathered together waiting our turn, congratulating each other on hair and make up. We joked about trying to scrub off kool aid mustaches, cover rug burns, and finding tights without ripped knees. My friend gave me her extra tickets for the recital, I helped her get her daughter ready when she arrived late. There is an effortless poetry in mothers helping each other. We just know what to do without asking. Someone is always there to hold your toddler or baby for a minute, to dig in her purse for whatever you forgot, or to make you laugh when you feel like the world's worst mother. I have talked a lot about competition between mothers, but I don't say enough about this. It is a beautiful thing.