Catwalk Kids

Last week was the school concert.   This year, instead of the traditional Christmas concert, there was a fashion show. 

I've only been priviledged to sit in the audience, heart in throat, once before, when Jacques took part in the Christmas play at his old creche when he was three.

Now, I sat in the front row next to the catwalk, as nervous and excited as can be, waiting for both my kids to make their entrance. 

We'd been told that the babies would merely walk - escorted by the teachers - down the catwalk.  The older classes had themes.

We dressed my daughter in a gorgeous pink party dress with as few accessories as possible - she's beautiful enough without them.

My son was later in the evening and we had no idea what to expect, as he had been tight-lipped the whole month while practicing and rehearsals went on.  We just knew he had to wear 'funky' clothes.  And he asked for his shades just before the show.

Anyway.  A hush fell, the music started and first out, hesitantly and wide-eyed, came my beautiful baby girl.   There is no words to describe the feeling that came over me when I saw her and heard the collective 'Ahhh' in the audience.   When she saw all the people she kind of stopped and then continued walking, taking it all in, and silly Mommy sat with tears streaming - and I'm not the crying kind - so proud to know that the beautiful vision on stage was MY daughter.

Later the evening my son made his grand appearance - if not speedily and extremely shyly, hiding behind his shades.  He came on stage on a little foot scooter, parked it, did the catwalk modelling and a bit of a shimmy dance.   I was proud that he was brave enough to do it.  

The second night Cillisa was ready and paraded the catwalk as if it was just for her.  She stood infront of us - sitting again in the front row - and danced, and then cried when led off the stage. 

Jacques refused to make an appearance the second night, and we assured him that it was ok, because Mommy doesn't do stages either, and neither, in fact, does Dad.

We are still waiting for the professional pictures that were taken, but in the meantime, I'd like to share two that I do have. 

Beach Babe

For ONCE the weather was decent on Saturday.  Usually it's perfect weather during the week when I am stuck in a windowless 'cublicle' on the 8th floor of a stuffy building and then come weekend and my chance to venture into the outdoors, and the wind is galing and it's cool.
I did not hesitate to take advantage of the good weather this time around, and Julie and myself took off with my two kids and headed for the beach.  
It was Cillisa's first real trip to the beach (the previous one not counting, because she was sleeping!).
I am still blown away at her response to this great outdoors.   I remember Jacques crying as his feet hit the sand, not enjoying it at all - though now at the age of 5, of course, it's all changed.
Still, here I watched my 15 month old take off across the sand, her tiny barefeet barely leaving a footprint behind her.   She stopped periodically to pick up something off the sand, even bringing me a small mussel, still in it's shell.   
And then she discovered the water.  I thought she'd be hesitant to go in, it being cold and all.  Wrong again.
She went in on her hands and knees, shrieking and laughing when the water splashed over her, and once, when I couldn't grab her up in time, the water splashed up into her face and over her head.  She thought it was funny!  
It was such a joy to watch her having so much fun.  
And then, there was the surfer / body boarder standing on the sand that she walked past, looked up at and beamed a smile upon.  He looked down at her, returned the smile, and then looked around at me, and grinned again, looking a little puzzled at his own reaction to this tiny creature at his feet!   
And again I marvelled at how little girls, no matter how small, can twist a man around her finger with a dazzling smile.  
I think this is where some women go wrong.  They grow up, become guarded.   Their actions are calculated or at least considered.  Gone are the spontaneous wide smiles, and unselfconscious enjoyment of life. 
I learn alot from my daughter every day.  And I wonder what became of me and how to get some of that...
'innocence' back.

Meet The Princess

And now it's time to introduce my daughter, Her Royal Highness, Cillisa.  Isn't she beautiful?  Age:  14 months today.  Born 19 August 2008.  Favourite Hobby:  Being cute.  Favourite Food:  Anything.     

As much as I love my son, and as wonderful as it was to have a boy as a first born, don't let anyone ever convince you that a daughter isn't every bit as much of a gift.  We've had such fun with her.  Girls are just special.  So different to boys and so...girlish! 

I think we women are born with the inbuilt ability to wrap men around our fingers with a flutter of an eyelash or a sweet smile. 

I think I've forgotten those tricks though, but watching her, I'm slowly remembering, and then jealously realising that I will never be as good as she is.  She's a natural.  The wide innocent smile, the upturned adoring look when she sees her father, the little outstretched hands - the cute faces she pulls when she's in trouble with Daddy, which is aimed at melting his heart, and works every time!

More than this, I believe Cillisa is touched by Angels.  She was conceived within a month of loosing one of my closest friends in the world.  In the month following this, carrying her was a comfort to me.  During my last month of pregnancy I lost my Mother and Cillisa arrived a few weeks later on my Mother's birthday.  Something they will forever share.   Amazingly, Cillisa broke free of the dominant colouring of my husband's family as well has my own, with the dark hair and dark eyes, and inherited my mother's blonde hair and vivacious personality.  She truly is a gift from Heaven, and her smile lights the path of life for me.