Last Friday night was the Father/Daughter dance at our elementary school.
Somewhere between the day the flier came home, and say three days before the actual dance event, I thought: I will just scrape together some leggings, a festive tutu, and a washed-up hat from a birthday party (that is probably on the kids’ closet floor) and partner it all up with my daughter’s cowgirl boots.
Bam. Boots and tutus themed father/daughter dance. Check.
I was feeling on-par with the fairy godmother, minus the rodents, wand and all of the fuss. Economical. Fiscally responsible. And, festive!
Then, Monday night and into early Tuesday morning I suddenly realized I was falling short! On Monday, my friend had mentioned the belt buckle she had ordered on Amazon for her husband and the iguana boots he was borrowing from a friend. She described the cute cowgirl outfit her daughter was planning to wear.
I thought about the lackluster and ill-planned attire I had for my daughter’s dance. Her first dance ever.
Mom fail alarms started going off in every corner of my mind!
I stopped by the grocery store and ordered a corsage. Pale pink roses? Sure! I will find a dress to match the corsage! I think it is supposed to happen the other way around, but I didn’t have time for ‘tradition.’ 😉
I texted a couple of friends with girls my daughter’s age, recruiting denim jackets. I assumed one would look cute with the dress I envisioned that existed somewhere within the walls of an Amazon warehouse somewhere in the United States. There was no time to think outside of the country.
So, I set about my search on an Amazon and within a few clicks (okay, like 100 clicks) and a few minutes (okay, like hours) later I had two dresses for my daughter and a belt, buckle and bolo tie for my husband. Amazon guaranteed delivery by the day of the dance. By 8 p.m. The dance started at 6. Ugh.
I held out hope, but I was still sweating. I went to several local department stores looking for back-up outfits and spent the next three days peering out of the window like some crazy lady in the witness protection program. I would close my eyes from behind the glass storm door, pinch my fingers together and point them to the sky, while pleading to the powers of Amazon to make a package, filled with western wear, appear before my eyes.
I went to Charlotte on Friday to meet a friend for lunch. I desperately texted my husband.
Then, I thought (well, a friend reminded me of it) Mooresville has a western store! So, I moseyed on over to the western store after my lunch date in Charlotte (read: broke traffic laws, while speeding through the streets, after sitting in ridiculous interstate 77 absurd toll lane construction traffic for way too long ) to the local western store. The woman working there told me, “Oh, you are not alone.”
I laughed and said, “Oh. People have been in today, eh?”
She responded, “Well, people have been coming in for a couple of weeks getting things for that dance.”
I appeared to be alone. Nothing like the last minute! In ten minutes I had to pick up my kids from school. On the other side of town.
But then, it was like divine, western-dance intervention. As I was standing in front of the belt buckle case, I texted my husband.
The package had arrived! Everything was in the box except the belt buckle.
“Did you look carefully I asked him over the phone?”
I suspected he had man-looked through the box, or that he had hidden the buckle. He wasn’t very fond of my buckle choice. I wonder why?
Hey, it finally came Saturday and I’m keeping it! Look for me wearing it around town or at Stegall’s Arena this summer!
So, I sent him his buckle choices and of course he picked the one in the middle emblazoned with a ‘D’ for our last name. After all, we do not live in Texas, nor do we raise long-horned steer. If we did, we would certainly have more legitimate buckle options.
So, after much speeding around the town of Mooresville, my husband and my daughter got ready for the dance.
And, as the cute couple departed I called after my husband and gave him a quota for picture taking. “You have to take at least 20 pictures,” I said. I was belt buckle-level hopeful.
He came home with less than ten.
If documentation of our lives is left to him, there will be little to no record of our existence post-wedding. And, I am pretty sure the kids are going to wonder where I was for their entire childhood (minus our group selfies of course 😉 ).
While he missed his quota by a long shot, he did take a few blurry, but cute ones.
I think he captured the moments well. They are priceless.
I am already reminding myself that next year I will begin sourcing for theme-related dance attire the exact moment I pull the flier from my daughter’s backpack. Lesson-learned!
I’m enjoying this journey, even though sometimes I am a little (read: a lot) behind!
The Belt Buckle
Belt buckles date to at least the twelfth century BC.
Early Roman buckles were D and square shaped and wrought out of iron. A few centuries later, cast bronze replaced iron as the material for buckles. The popularity of buckles then spread to Europe and their function moved from decorative to more-functional.
In the United States Navajo Indian silversmiths began making buckles and by the early 1900’s cowboys were wearing western-style buckles. However, very few buckles existed until Hollywood popularized them through western movies. Prior to that cowboys wore suspenders or wore friction buckles.
Buckles were then often awarded to winners in rodeos as trophies. And, according to the folks over at the Goosewing Ranch in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, belt buckles are also like a cowboy’s resume or their name tag. A buckle can have a lot of family history and information about the cowboy emblazoned right there on the buckle.
I suppose the wild unicorn buckle wasn’t a fit after all.