Archive - April 2016

1
Tiny Dancer
2
The Solution For Not So Sweet Feet

Tiny Dancer

My daughter is a dancer. Yes, she mixes up the steps and goes in the wrong direction at least half the time, but she doesn’t care one bit. She gets distracted and stops mid-step to wave to me or to watch herself in the mirror. And sometimes she trips and falls, but she always gets back up, smiling. She loves to dance. And lucky for us, she can.  We had been at another dance studio, but out of the blue the owners decided that a class for students with special needs was too time consuming, too much work, just too much effort. It reminds me of this story. So our tiny dancers were displaced and disillusioned.  But we’ve fallen back in step and been welcomed with open arms at our new studio.  Avery’s dance teacher is warmth and encouragement and inspiration. Miss Stephanie treats her special students the way treats all of her dancers. She pushes just enough and cheers them on. She’s choreographed the most wonderful dance for the girls to perform at the spring showcase—on the big stage in pink sparkly costumes, with grown up hair and fancy make-up. They’ll be dancing to Superstar by Love Inc—a perfect anthem[…]

Read More

The Solution For Not So Sweet Feet

My son’s sweet baby feet smelled of freshly baked bread and sunshine and blades of sweet spring grass. Then he turned twelve and the distinct baby feet smell soured into a distinct…stink. In case you think I’m being awful for discussing my boy’s smelly feet, I assure you I asked his permission before sharing. He thinks watching his mother squirm and gag at his post basketball game shoe parfume is funny. It is not, for I am highly sensitive to smells. Seriously, I can sniff out a moist sweat sock hidden under a pile of laundry from a mile away. I’m the Sherlock Holmes of smelling. As vile as my son’s shoes can get, he has nothing on his dad’s size 12 odour generators. My husband is very active. He teaches Phys Ed and not from the sidelines—he gets out there with the kids and works up a sweat. And when some of that sweat pools in his shoes, the aroma can reach a nine—ranked on a rank scale of one (baby feet) to ten (a family of dead rats decaying under the porch in the heat of summer). And what of my shoes? Obviously they smell like daisies 24/7. My husband thought he[…]

Read More

All images and text are copyright © 2019 Forever In Mom Genes