Turtleneck With Sleeves Please.

I have two teenage daughters.  I’ve never had sons, but at times like this, I always imagine how much simpler events like this must be for the parents of dudes.

When formal dances are upon us, my heart starts to pump a little bit faster.  Especially the SnoBall, which is a modern day formal Sadie Hawkins dance. Can we afford all the necessities (x2)?  Are we going to be able to find the Perfect Dress that is modest and both mom and daughter agree upon?  Will my babies choose safe dates?  There’s hair and makeup and nails and jewelry and shoes and checking for cleavage… (No.  No cleavage.  If you can find something turtleneck-ish with sleeves, that’d be great.)

turtleneck with sleeves please

Dad’s solution for keeping pretty daughters safe is to barricade the doors and keep them home.

I’ve got the big car and the wiring of a night owl, so it makes sense for me to act as chauffeur to the squad.  This particular night, our group ranged from 5 to 8 teens throughout the evening.  Timing is everything.  When should everyone arrive to the house?  Dinner reservations.  When and where?  Time for photos is a must, but the sun sets at 4:30pm in December, so…  Gotta get to the dance on time, but definitely not too early.  Also, a group of girls who’ve never worn high heels before do not walk at a regular pace.  Will traffic cooperate?  Once everyone is out of my care, will they be safe? (Did I also mention I’m an introvert?  Yeah.  This type of event uses up all of my B vitamins.)

All. These. Details.  And I feel myself get anxious.  I feel myself being Martha.

Slow down.  Recognize the moments, Sugar Plum.  This is one of those nights that will be remembered by my kids the rest of their lives and I don’t want to miss the moments that I have the privilege of actually being a part of.

Watching friends in their element and capturing their humor on camera. Watching a nervous boy trying so hard to be chivalrous, possibly for the first time. (I wonder who did the coaching.)  Hearing inside jokes in the midst of all the chatter and everyone pausing to sing that one song that just came on the stereo.  WHEN THEY LAUGH AT MY JOKES! (Even if just to be courteous.)

And then sending the babies, all dolled up, looking like ladies and gentlemen, into the dance…

These are the moments.  This is where I notice the blessing of who my daughters are becoming and the company they are keeping.  This is where God the Father puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and reminds me- This parenting thing?  It’s a team effort.  “Thank you for all you’ve done to get them to the dance, Megan.  I’ll take it from here.”

And then I’m at peace. I know they are in great Hands.  I am able to let go of the anxiety and just settle in to a quiet evening at home.  Don’t get me wrong.  Pins and needles till they get home.  But not the worrying kind of pins and needles.  I have peace that God really did take it from there.  Pins and needles because I can’t wait to hear how the night went.  And from what I understand, it was a blast.


2 thoughts on “Turtleneck With Sleeves Please.

  1. So well written, Megan! I can only imagine how difficult this must be. What an artful balancing act of wanting to hold on while instead remembering to trust and let go. You’re an amazing mother and I admire you 💜


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