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I Need A Bedazzler

I Need A Bedazzler

This. Is Not. A Drill.

There are some things in life that we swear we will never do.  need.  purchase.  Spanks.  Spanks would be one.  Been there.  Done that.  Currently.  

But real talk now:  I need a bedazzler.

I need a bedazzler because at the dress rehearsal for the dance recital my kid was the only one without sparkles sewn onto her shirt.  Because I thought none of us were doing that.  Because the memo I got was that they will be fine dancing their 45 second dance without a blinged out Fruit of the Loom.  Because everything else in this world of dance fashion sparkles or glitters or shines - it wasn’t necessary.  We agreed.  We being the Moms that sit in the waiting room watching and waiting for our tiny dancers.  Yes.  We agreed.  And I took everyone for their word.

Guess who won’t be doing that again?

So seriously, 24 hours before the damn dance recital there I was, hot glueing bedazzles onto a T-shirt.  Okay, I’ll be truthful:  I bribed a teenager with a honey bun and Mountain Dew to do it during Study Hall.  But that’s besides the point.  The point is that I couldn’t let my baby not glitter on stage.  Not when she asked as gently as possible why do they get sparkles and I don’t?

I just hugged her and said  Mama hasn’t finished, yet, baby. But what I really wanted to say, what I really meant in every fiber of my being is their Mommies lied and made your Mommy look really bad.  So don’t you worry.  You will have more freaking sparkles than anyone else. And she did.

Oh, don’t worry.  Mama got all kinds of crap from her group text when she sent a frantic all call out for a Bedazzler.  Yes.  I’m aware I’m setting the bar now for future costuming endeavors.  Yes, I know she’s five.  Yes, I know that it’s not necessary.  Yes.  I actually do think you own a bedazzler.

But the reality of it all is this:  as mothers, there really isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for our kid, is there?  I mean, besides all the loving them and caring for them and ensuring their eternal safety and happiness.  Sometimes, as Moms, there is so much we can’t control:  their math grade, the kids on the playground, whether or not they make the team.  So why not control what we can when we can, right?  Sure, there will be times when I just. literally. can’t. even.  

And there are other times when I can.  

I can make sure that she sparkles. So bright.  So big.  Even if I was running around like a crazy person trying to find the materials to get the freaking sparkles on the shirt.  At ten o’clock.  On a school night.

And she doesn’t know that I rolled my eyes the. entire. time. I was scrounging and stressing and overseeing the bedazzling.  Or that the one time I tried to glue the sparkle on I burnt my finger.  That blistered.  For two weeks.  Or that I threw the shirt away after the recital for fear that she would actually want to wear it in public and I wanted to eliminate the option.

She doesn’t need to know all that.  Because one day, in her own way, she will know.  Because if it’s not bedazzles it’ll be cookies for the class or juices for the team or something else just as arbitrary and absurd and in the grand scheme of her world makes not one. bit. of. difference but in the microcosm of her little loves life it will be the world.  And she’ll do it time and time again.

And so will I.

Which is why I bought my own damn bedazzler.

Her Son

Her Son

The Legacies of Old Ladies

The Legacies of Old Ladies