hit it, maestro

I have no time to write.


I’m already late and I haven’t even started yet.

But I need to share this with you.

My girl was so excited for her first middle school concert.

In her email from school on Wednesday, she wrote, “I can’t even wait for my concert.”

In her email home from school yesterday, she wrote, “I can’t even wait for my concert.”

What can I say, we thrive on consistency around here.

When I picked her up at school yesterday, her hair was in pigtails. I was told that she had asked an aide to do it for her. “Because it’s concert day,” she said. She was adamant that they remain untouched. After some digging, she finally said, “Katie had pigtails for when she was Mrs. Gloop.”

All those things you think your kid doesn’t notice? They do. 

Last week, we’d found a new pair of black, patent leather boots. Because she’d outgrown the old ones and, well, apparently that’s what one wears for concerts.

She went searching for the pink scarf. Katie told her that she wouldn’t be allowed to wear it in middle school. That they are very strict about the black and white dress code.

Brooke rifled through my scarf collection and handed me a cream one. “This will work,” she said. Indeed.


{image is a photo of Brooke waiting on the stairs for my mom to get ready to go. She is wearing her concert garb – a cream sweater, black leggings, black patent leather boots, pigtails, and my cream scarf tied around her neck. Lucy, our puggle, is photobombing.}


{image is a photo of Brooke ready to leave the house. I couldn’t resist. The dog in this one is a statue. Long story.}


The moment we got into the school building, Brooke declared to anyone (and everyone) within ear shot that she was “so excited for [her] first middle school concert. She then added, “I’m gonna do great.”

The following pictures are really badly and oddly cropped. I refer you back to, “I have no time.” Twenty-something little hearts to cover twenty-something other faces wasn’t happening. I trust that you’re not here for my photographic prowess.


{Image is a photo of Brooke waiting for the show to begin. She is unbelievably calm and her hands are folded in front of her. I almost don’t recognize her hands not moving at the speed of light.}


{image is a photo almost identical to the one above, but she is now looking up and we can see those beautiful brown eyes.}

DSC_0015 - Version 2

{image is a photo of Brooke just as they’ve begun to sing. The choir director’s hand is in the shot, but it doesn’t matter. The point is that smile. That, “This is where I belong and I’m doing something that I love” smile. The smile that makes nothing else matter.}

DSC_0028 - Version 2

{Image is a photo of Brooke bowing. Becky, standing next to her, has the cutest grin ever as she basks in the pride of a job well done. I wish you could see the whole choir. Why? Because Brooke is the only one bowing. And it’s awesome.}

The moment we got home, Brooke announced to Luau and her Grandpa DD (who had gone to Katie’s band concert, which, yes, was at the exact same $!&%ing time, but that’s a whole other post, so we’ll just keep moving), “I was awesome in my concert.”

You were indeed, my sweet girl.

You were indeed.

6 thoughts on “hit it, maestro

  1. “Because Brooke is the only one bowing” – that made me smile, a lot, because my guy, who dances on the edge of the spectrum, is also “the only one bowing” at the holiday concert. It’s adorable! The last concert, he did the one-arm-across-the-front-one-across-the-back bow to ALL THREE directions – left/center/right – OMG/LOL moment there!

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