Monday, March 15, 2010

ALOHA!

Well, we spent the last week taking turns throwing up.

That was fun.

I'd like to never speak of it again.

Despite the fevers, and vomiting, and lack of sleep, I got the costumes done.

Although, in the interest of full disclosure, my shirt was neither sewn by me, nor sewn by kindly elves. Instead it came to me from a Fairy Godmother. Auntie must have seen the fear in my eyes as I looked at the mock-up of what the shirt was supposed to look like. It was sewn from a vest pattern, but the neck line was modified (which I think I could have done reasonably well) and sleeves were added.

It was the added sleeves that made my blood run cold.

Sleeves, my old nemesis.

Whether it be knitting, or sewing, I just can't seem to do sleeves properly without a pattern.

How I hate you sleeves!

Seeing the deer in headlights look on my face Auntie took pity on me and kindly donated the mock-up to me, instructing me to sew buttons on the front and invest in some socks (cause I'm a little on the flat chested side *curse you boob fairy* ).

By the time Saturday rolled around the younger three members of our family were well. The same could not be said for the older three. Especially The Greatest. But we rallied. We went to the Aloha Festival.

And we DANCED!

(Except for The Greatest. He doesn't dance)

My three dancers before the show

All set for their debut




Poor Bird is nothing but skin and bones. She doesn't have a scrap of body fat. And she was so cold in her hula outfit with the bare shoulders. Our stage was right by the water and the breeze off the water had a definite chill to it. At one point I saw the teenage dancers crowded around something. I looked, and it was Bird. They had huddled around her tiny form like a flock of penguins, trying to keep her warm.

The Ipu dance.

Didn't The Greatest do a fantastic job with their Ipus?!!



The Boys

To the Left, to the left



The Greatest took the pictures, and he only got one picture of the boys dance. And of course Meaty is turned the wrong way. He did this all through rehearsals as well. He is my child in all the wrong ways, poor thing. I was backstage, but I managed to catch the end of his performance, and he was turning the right way then. I'm very proud of him. And just a teensy bit surprised he like it so much, but he did. He really liked dancing.

Sophisticated Hula

Its the talk of the town!




Love those cellophane skirts in the breeze! Again, The Greatest took these pictures, and he didn't manage to really get Bird in the picture. She's tiny, so you'd think she would be in the first row. But the second row was the place for her. She needed the row of dancers in front of her to help her remember what she was doing. Another one of my children in all the wrong ways. She did great. Now Pork Chop is my shining star dancer! Front row, big smile knew all the moves, loved every second on stage. A born performer.

And Me!

DANCER!



I am Wife, Mom, Daughter, Friend, Chef, Chauffeur, Nurse, Life Guard, Tutor, Housekeeper, Personal Shopper, Keeper of the Keys, Knitter, Quilter, Costume Creator, Blogger. I wear many hats. And now I can add: HULA DANCER!

I wouldn't necessarily qualify hula dancer with the word good. See me in the second row? Yeah, the second row was the place for me too! Hula dancers are generally thought to be graceful. Anyone who knows me, really knows me, is going to fall off their chair giggling at the idea of me and graceful being said in the same sentence. But I went, I danced, I had a great time. We can't wait to do it all again next year.

Of course no post would be complete without a picture of my tiniest Island Princess.

The tiniest island princess



She was too tiny to dance this year, but perhaps next year?

When it was all over we hurried home and tucked The Greatest back in bed. We had ice cream sundaes for dinner, and snuggled up on the couch to watch "Where the Wild Things Are."

It was a perfect day.

Except for the vomit.

1 comment:

  1. Awesome. I love the outfits and you guys all looked great.

    ReplyDelete