Picture Perfect II

When I was five I had my kindergarten picture taken wearing the same dress as my sister had worn for hers. Years later, my little sister would wear the same dress. I always loved my picture, especially my long braids that looped back up into bows.

Fast forward 33 years, and I am the mother of a five year old girl that looks so shockingly like I did at her age, it seemed only fitting to resurrect the old dress and have her wear it for her picture. I had remembered seeing it in my parents belongings at some point, but after looking and not finding it, I took on a new challenge; I would recreate it. We set out right away to grow Ellie’s hair long enough to make the little braids.

I am not a seamstress. I can barely sew, because I am allergic to new fangled technology like irons, measuring tape, and following directions. Thank heavens for seam rippers and extra fabric. I did my best. It took me the better part of the year. I completely missed picture day, make-up picture day and all of the expiration dates on my coupons for studio photos at Penny’s.

.

Ellie is now at the end of first grade. I did eventually finish the dress but have procrastinated having the pictures done because I have misplaced my own kindergarten picture that I intended to use as a guide for the pose. Ellie has grown and put on some weight, and the dress almost doesn’t fit anymore. To top it off, Ellie has begun begging, almost daily, for her hair to be cut.

It was now or never.

For our date last week we squeezed her into the dress, braided her hair, and grabbed the camera. It would not look like the original photo, where ever that was, but then, nothing can truly be recreated. We tromped out to the yard and snapped pictures. She flirted and grimaced, and freaked out about bugs. She loves having her picture taken and she took full advantage of her top model moment.

The dress wasn’t perfect, but it was done.

The pictures weren’t perfect, but they were done.

So much that we do for ourselves and our children is not perfect, but I guess imperfect is better than undone.

I hope, when we get to the other side of this mortal adventure, there will be some sort of wiggle room, extra credit given for trying hard, even when we miss the mark.