I’m a Mamma, not a Shoppa

It seems like just yesterday my daughter was learning how to hold her pencil. Now she is learning how to waltz, jitterbug, tango, two-step, and salsa. And not the kind with cilantro, either. Tomorrow I get to go to parent’s night to see her dance moves in person. The email invitation reminded parents that the club has a “no denim” policy.  I guess my holey jeans aren’t welcome. So today I went out in search of a dress.  I have a few dresses hanging way back in the cobwebbed regions of my closet, saved from the olden days when I actually … Continue reading I’m a Mamma, not a Shoppa