Rosie Style: Spring trends
I said I would make it happen, and I’m a woman of my word sometimes. I think this would ultimately work best as a Flickr set that I could link to from time to time with updates, but woe is my Flickr account you guys. Woe. I think it is going to take me a solid morning and afternoon with only a quick burrito break in the middle to get that thing even close to being caught up to present.
(*Sidenote: Part of my frustration with Flickr is that I cannot get it to upload my pictures in the order that I select, meaning that I can’t do big batches at once. What gives with that, Flickristas? Can anyone shed some light? Because uploading my 22,384 pictures one at a time is not an option.)
So! Rosie Style! I say yes to this, because she’s got plenty to spare. And as much as I want to take credit for her savvy ensembles, all I can say is that I buy the staples that make up her palette. She selects as she chooses, with only the (very) occasional moment of acquiescence to my suggestions. The number of times I have started with an outfit for her that she then completely reworked by the time we walked out the door is equal to the number of days that she has had independent control of her pointer finger and mastery of the word “No.”
Last night I opened a package of clothes I had ordered for her and Noah online, and she watched me unwrap each one with such profound joy that it was like she was welcoming old friends home. Getting her to keep her current clothes on when she sees these old friends is a particular challenge. Many an afternoon has been interrupted by the discovery of a stack of freshly folded laundry followed by a mangled attempt to wrestle a bathing suit onto her own body. Hell hath no fury like a girl who cannot sort out the spaghetti straps on a striped two piece.
(Not-so) secretly, I hope she develops my love for consignment shopping. I envision us culling through racks of other people’s cast-off treasures, high-fiving each other with our outfit-assembling prowess. I know that may be wishful thinking, especially the high-fiving part. No one does that anymore, MOM.
Is probably a more likely sound byte from that scenario.
Sometimes I can’t believe I ever felt any trepidation about having a daughter. I guess maybe I thought I wasn’t girl-ish enough? Or that having a girl meant being forced to feign excitement over all the things I disliked about girl culture growing up? I haven’t unpacked all that baggage yet. All I know is: Having this girl is great.
Dress and rain boots in the sun
The excellent taste in clothes is just icing on the cake.