when i wore a skinny, leather tie

something weird happened here over the weekend. my daughter went to her first middle school dance...

it was a costume dance. first she was gonna be katniss. then she was going to be m&m's with a friend. then she was gonna be a hobo. then she dressed in a cute new outfit and went as...

herself.

and why, on a limited budget, did you buy your daughter a new outfit for a middle school dance, one might ask. valid question. the only answer i have is that i was a middle school girl once. and truth is, i revert to that state every so often. which is what i did when my daughter was crying the night before the dance because she felt like her plans kept falling through for what she was going to wear. and i knew that it was not really about what she was going to wear but about finding her place in a new place. suddenly it was 1983. i remember the insecurity and the inner turmoil and the crazy whacked out hormones. now that i mention it, 42 doesn't seem that different than 12. in that moment, i made a decision you won't find in any parenting book. i'm not proud of it, but i intersected emma's insecurity with a cute new outfit. suddenly i was back in my gray acid washed jeans, matching striped vest and skinny black, leather tie that i wore to a middle school dance in the 80's. i felt gnarly, rad, and totally tubular all in one.

and that's how she felt when she went as herself, only with more modern, less 80's adjectives...

instead out of place and insecure, i wanted her to feel strong, beautiful and fierce. 'cause she doesn't need a costume for that. she just needs to be herself. {she doesn't need a new outfit either, i know, but let's just let give me a pass on that one for now. how can you trust the judgement of a girl in a skinny leather tie anyway?}

and you know how a dad is supposed to feel when his daughter goes off to a middle school dance? protective...

and proud of his little girl, who isn't exactly his "little" girl anymore, but still the apple of his eye...