Fashion Show

I knew as soon as I said it, I shouldn't have. You know when you're in the middle of saying something and you think "I should really stop. This is not a good idea. I know better." Well, I said it.

I got as far as "fash" and knew I was in trouble. Yup, I made the mistake and suggested we have a "fashion show" to Gabriella the other day. What was I thinking introducing this already obsessed, addicted, dress-up diva to the idea of fashion shows? What have we been doing every day straight since then? Having millions of fashions shows.

Don't get me wrong, I think fashions shows are great. I had fashions shows with my sisters clear into high school it seemed. Every new school year, just before the first day of school, we would try on all the new school clothes we had gotten over the summer and decide what to wear each day for the first week of school. We would run downstairs to show my mom and dad, and they would politely smile and tell us we looked great. Then we'd dash back up stairs for a quick change and run back down again. I'm sure they thought we were crazy, but we loved it. Fashion shows are great. But when the cat is away, the mice will play.

The other night I was gone and Joe was home with the girls. Turns out when Joe's the one sponsoring the fashion show, it's way better. He told me after I got home that Gabriella kept telling him that she wanted to have a fashion show. And here's where the better parent thing comes in. Instead of getting down the girls dress up box like I always do, he got out my jewelry and they got to wear bracelets as earrings and such.

They must have had a ball, because the first thing the next morning, Gabs immediately told me all about their fashion show. She also kept asking for a certain pair of my Sunday shoes...ones really high in the closet. Apparently, my jewelry wasn't the only fun of the night. It's true, Joe is definitely the better parent.

After days and days of begging, yesterday I just gave in. It was snowing outside and we weren't going anywhere. I had given up. I gave the girls free reign of my jewelry. It's only the cheap $7 stuff anyway. And what's a few passes down the hallway catwalk in my Sunday shoes? The carpet needs cleaning anyway. Why not get down my grandma's old hats she sent? She would be tickled to know they were used in an ever important fashion show. And what kind of mother am I to display my moms old Sunday School gloves on the girls dresser and never let them touch them? Today, it was all fair game.

We sent Joe out of the bedroom and I helped the girls get dressed. Whatever they wanted, they could have. They dressed themselves however they wanted. I was only there to assist them. I was surprised, Gabriella showed some restraint on the jewelry and only picked matching pieces. But not Gwen. Oh my Gwen Gwen. She quickly turned into Mr. T and had every piece of jewelry she could find around her neck.

Gabs came out of the room beaming for Joe. She made him "cheer" for her as she and Gwen took turns walking up and down the hall on the so-called catwalk. They worked that catwalk for a good 30 minutes. And Joe politely smiled. I'm sure all the while thinking they were as crazy as their mother.

I had to smile too. It was the first of many fashion shows to come over the years. One day, I know I'll be sad that they won't be wearing my clothes, but their own grown clothes that they actually fit into. So here's to many, many more fashions shows.

Sidenote to my love Joe: Keep smiling babe. It's only just begun. It's only just begun.