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The last Homecoming dance

The last Homecoming dance of my maternal career ended with the happy waft of laughter.

For a moment, I thought about grabbing my camera and heading back downstairs where Molly and her friends had gathered spontaneously to recap the night.

I knew exactly the kind of shots I’d take, the pile of shoes gathered by door, wilted corsages, sweatshirts and suit jackets tossed over gowns, happily bare feet.

I’d tucked myself in bed a good while before, but it wasn’t my bright red flannel PJs and gold Packer robe that kept me from tip toeing down the stairs for a few more photos.

I have no jammie shame.

I stayed put because, for once, my camera and I didn’t want to intrude.

We shot 189 pictures Saturday night and I loved them all, even the blurry ones. I loved the pre-shots that should have smelled of hairspray and nail polish, and sounded like cheerful compliments. “Oh my God, you look amazing!” “I love your dress!” “Where did you get your shoes? I love them!” “Oh my God Emma just left with my dress in her car!” “Do you want to borrow one of mine?” “Yay! Sam’s here!” “I made you all corsages.”

I loved the just-one-more-before-we-go shots on our front porch when everyone stood politely though they were anxious to get on with their evening.

I loved the big group shots, and the groups within the groups shots, and the goofy shots, the sweet shots, the parent shots, the just-one-more shots, the parting shots.

My 14th Homecoming Dance photo shoot went very much like my first.

I’ve shot Homecoming pictures in freezing weather, in backyards, in country clubs, on a river, in the park and, once, on an actual red carpet.

I’ve stood, 14 times, with groups of parents waving goodbye to girls in wobbly heels and boys in stiff shirt collars. I’ve both seen and participated in the quick slip of an extra buck or two, the sly repinning of a sagging boutonniere.

“Have fun!” “Be good.” “Be safe.”

“Be safe.”

“Be safe.”

When I heard our side door open late Saturday night, and loud whispers drifted up the stairs, I stayed put.

Turns out, my work was done.

Hair and makeup

Hair and makeup usually happens at our house, which means crimping, curling, chaos and chatter.

Theatre kids

These theatre kids can rock the make-up. It’s a whirl of kindness and cat-eyes.

Multi Tasking

Impressive multi-tasking.

Vince and Molly

I love this picture of Molly and Vince.

Molly and Colleen

Colleen and Molly have been friends since birth.

Molly

I honestly didn’t think she’d do it. Here’s Molly gamely leaping off our front porch on her way to the Homecoming dance.

Jack Molly and Rachel

I think this might be my favorite picture because no one knew I was taking it.

Mary Poppins

A nod to Mary Poppins from Ms. Poppins herself, and Jane Banks.

Molly and Jack

Neighbors, classmates, cast mates and friends. Also, they matched the chapel doors nicely.

Molly and Jaya

A pop of color. Check out their wrist corsages, made by the talented Syd.

Paparazzi

This picture makes me laugh. The senior girls are waiting for someone, the junior girls a vogueing and the sophomore girls posing. Parental paparazzi abound.

Molly and Me

Our last Homecoming dance. Spit. spot. My work is done. (Photo credit Jaya Mallela)

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About Molly B and Me

Welcome to Molly B and Me! This is a blog written by a 50-year-old mother of four with help and recipe contributions from her 16-year-old youngest daughter. Follow us as we struggle with our six-foot by 2-foot garden that has never really grown anything but turnips. We like to spin a yarn, but we can't knit at all. We're pretty good cooks, which works out well because we like to eat. We're avid sports fans and we especially enjoy football. We'll introduce you to our neighbors, including Connie the Cookie Lady and Macy the three-legged dog. Check back for recipes and tips.

Posted on October 12, 2015, in Molly, Mom, photography and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I loved reading every word of this. Thank you for having a welcoming home that Sam could come to for “hair help” and to be with all his friends. I cried through the whole thing.
    Cathy Stratton

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