I don't remember my first communion much. I was probably nervous about having to do something that real live people were going to be watching and (horrors) taking pictures of.

How stressful.

But if that was how I felt, I know I remember that at least I liked wearing the dress. The veil not so much, (headbands are never comfortable) but the outfit felt special.

This was taken right before we left for the supercrowded overstimulating ceremony. It's the nicest shot I could get. Or at least the most sincere. The others look like I'm forcing her to smile while swallowing worms.

I thought I planned ahead. I had her try on the dress several times, (which I picked out since she wanted to spend zero time online shopping in the scary basement. Fine by me I thought) to make sure it fit ok. I knew it was too tight in the shoulders, but the alternative was to send it back for a larger size and an even heftier charge for shipping and stuff.

And we decided to go with too big rather than too small for the shoes. Smart right?

No.

It wasn't.

And I made the headband so I give her that one. The stubborn thing just wouldn't stay up. Though how could it when she wouldn't stop fussing with it? But all these factors coupled with a hot crowded church and a sensitive girl make a very unhappy 8 year old.

Halfway through the mass, I looked over at her to find the paper I used to stuff in her shoes to make them fit was shredded in her hands and all over the seat.
And she was crying.
What am I supposed to do? Wave my magic wand and make it all fit right instantly?
Poor first kid. They're always the most screwed up one.

But oh, the power of a Happy Meal.
Now that's magic.

She knows she is only going to wear this a moment longer.

This lovely dress I fell in love with and would wear myself if I could.

Katie's doomed. It is her destiny to wear it too and if it doesn't fit, I'll make it fit.

But poor Daniel.

What's wrong buddy? Just because you have been acting grumpy the whole day and I kept saying cut it out, you're not getting out of church on a Saturday for pretending to be sick
and I refuse to feel sorry for you.

C'mon, just smile once will ya?

And then, about three hours later, he threw up.

I'm a terrible, terrible mother.