In some ways it's a good thing. In high school my stick-straight hair was lame, because the other girls were poofing their bangs 3-5 inches off the top of their heads. But now, a few years later, when people look through those yearbooks, they wonder how come I was the only one with any taste?
My girl is wearing a skirt, a pinafore, an owl hat, and leggings. Most of the day she stomped around in one boot, because that's the only one we'd found. And she was happy.
It reminds me to not let my feathers get ruffled. Wear the clothes I love. Knit in public. Play outside. Ignore the tv.
There are so many things I want to get done. But some days/weeks/seasons I'm just doing well if I get the dishes done and the food cooked. If I give out hugs and read stories and let someone paint something. If I ignore the checklist and get all of us outside.
Maybe I should get a picture of my daughter in her craziest get-up, with her wildest hair, and pin it up right next to my checklist? What do you think?