Flash Dance.

When my sister-in-laws trips were still babies, she purchased little leggings for them similar to the ones that Nik has on here, and I adored them. As Fall approached, I searched for them online, and discovered 1. there are several different brands 2. they have many adorable patterns, and I was having a hard time deciding and 3. they were on the expensive side. As we are on a budget, I put it on the back burner. Then, I saw online that one maker carried them at Target. I had never seen them there, so I figured our store didn't keep them in stock. Then during a trip to Target, I searched for them, and discovered that they did have a couple designs, and they were a little more affordable ($10 a piece), and no shipping cost! I picked her up two pairs, and I LOVE THEM!!! Mommy has some leg warmers too, and it reminds me of (14 years in) dance. Also, the movie Flash Dance.

I love the movie Flash Dance or any movie about dancing. As a dancer growing up, I lived for dance. LOVED IT! That was my thing. I did participate in sports/cheerleading (loved) during grade school, and cheerleading (life) in highschool, but as a child, Dance was everything to me. Sure, sometimes I dreaded going to dance class, but I have some great memories being in the Nutcracker as a child, and all the dance recitals at our Scottish Rite Temple, which is now called Center for the Performing Arts. I have such good memories of eagerly waiting in the darkened staircases and backstage, only illuminated by the light from the stage, in a line, being hushed by a teacher, waiting to go out on stage, and seeing the lights of the stage, and all the people in the audience, and can only describe as what I now know to be adrenaline, anticipation, excitement, and sheer nervousness. I remember running around the basement of the building before recitals, and there were tables set up everywhere, with mothers and daughters, and costumes, and "Caboodles" filled with make-up and little girls running around with curlers in their hair, getting their photos taken. I loved it! I wanted to grow up and be a dancer, singer, performer.

Enter highschool. Puberty hit (actually hit 7th grade, boobs 5th), enter boobs, and curves, insecurities, unfamiliarity (shame?) with a young woman's body, and a weakened self-esteem, and I gave up on dance, and never looked back. I missed it terribly, and always wondered where I'd be if I hadn't given up on it. It was the one thing I was passionate about, that eventually gave way to cheerleading. But, I always look back fondly on dance. It was an outlet for me to shine, and I did shine. Brought tears to my mom's eyes, pride (like I had never seen). There was something about being up there. Especially as I was older, and when I did solos, I remember looking out, and as a solo artist they put a spotlight on you (which they don't do as a class) and it's actually really wonderful because you can't see the audience. And, it's just you and the routine. It's art. And your nervous and excited and scared and determined. And then, at the end, you hear a theatre of people clapping for you, and you feel pride and joy, and it's an amazing thing. And, I hope that my daughter gets to experience that one day. Dance to little girls is the epitome of all things girly (until the level that curves become frowned upon), and I just hope she gets to experience that. My little ballerina. Tutus, tights, ribbons, and curls, and leg warmers, of course.

So, she wears these little leg warmers, and I always Flash Dance when she's got them on, and Nik Flash Dances too. I just love the way her little feet look in them and her little chunky monkey yummy legs.

In other things, Stellan is doing better, and another surgery tomorrow, and I just will be so relieved when tomorrow is over, and Stellan is safe and well and back home with his family. I have been on pins and needles for him these past weeks. My stomach and my heart just tied up in knots, like he was my own child. My co-worker asked me what was wrong with me today, because I didn't know how he was doing, and I was just a wreck--enough that people were asking me what was up, I wasn't myself. Ever since my daughter starting growing in my belly I have just been a basket case. I feel like Mother Earth. Sick with worry, and emotions all over the place. Weeping at dead bugs and squirrels, to say the least. Don't get me started if it's actually something furry or human. It's just been ridiculous. Then today, I was reading my new issue of Parents magazine (December Issue) and read this story about a family and their Christmas Tree (you should check it out!) and here I was crying in the breast pump room. Just ridiculous. And crying at the Veterans Memorial at work today. I mean, I am just an emotional wreck since motherhood. Weeping around at ladybugs that appears to have a broken wing. If I kill a spider in our house (and I have to because I am terribly afraid of them and they give me the heeby jeebies), I feel horrible afterwards bc I might have killed some spider's mother, father, sister, brother, daughter, son, aunt, uncle, cousin, etc. Insane.

God be with you Stellan.