or "When I grow up I want to plan the prom."
|I'll sell it to you for $100.|
I was in my last semester of college and taking a break from my life in California. Grant was a new college graduate making a name for himself in his firm. I don't want to be all trite and cliche and say that there were fireworks when we were together - but one of our first dates was on 4th of July in DC. So yes. There were fireworks.
One particular date in our series of "getting-to-know-you" encounters was on a canoe at Fountainhead. We talked about who we were and where we'd been. He asked me why I was an English major.
"Well, I suppose I like to write," I said, "and I've always been told I was good at it." No brainer.
"So what do you intend to do with it?" Grant asked, true to his practical self.
"I don't know. Teach high school. Plan the prom."
Last week I spent the entire week preparing for the play. I rehearsed lines with the kids, studied hair styles and stitched together last minute costumes. When all was said and done, the show was fabulous and my home life was in ruin. As we were driving home from the show, I felt a shockwave of realization, "THE EPIPHANY PARTY!"
I told my friend and fellow homeschool mom that I would make table decorations for the annual homeschool Epiphany party - and I had made absolutely no movement forward on that front.
My kids aren't having a traditional school experience like I had. There will be no Homecoming Queen or Prom King for them. The resources are limited - we operate without much of a budget - and the expectations are high. We want our kids to be Holy and Scholarly - not cool. And when you get right down to it - we are so uncool that sometimes it even makes my public school sensibilities cringe.
Sunday morning after Church, Annie and I sat down in our dining room and set before us all of the leftover crafting items from the play. We made a plan for two different types of table decor; we spent no money and we did no research. We giggled at our mistakes and iced our glue-gun burned fingertips. It was female bonding at it's finest and our output looked homemade. We felt nothing but pride.
The party was what we expected: lots of little tots joyfully running around, junior high boys on one side - girls on the other, while parents mingled and teens attempted to swing dance. The only thing that could be described as "cool" at this party would have been the sub-arctic temperature of the room we occupied. Annie and my humble decorations sat in the middle of the tables - a tribute to the places we thought we'd be - and the places we have ended up.
|Nothing says "Epiphany" like Lily of the Valley?|
|The clothespins following the star? Brillz.|