Something Old, Something New

I caught my daughter in a wedding dress today.

Playing dress up at school and oblivious her mother had entered the class and was watching, she held a pencil in her hand like a bouquet and walked in a straight line to her cubby.

I nearly threw up.

Seeing her just pretend to get married sent shivers down my spine and made my otherwise calm mind go slightly insane. My gut reaction was “NO NO NO NO NO THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT FOR YOU!”

This is the reaction of a happily married woman who has had many, many benefits from being tied to one man for the rest of her life.

This is the reaction of a girl who dreamt of her own wedding since she was her daughter’s age.

This is the reaction of a mostly sane woman who has done as she pleases through out life and supports the institution of marriage.

Slightly panicked, I asked my darling daughter to take off her play veil and dress. It was time to go home.

But Mom, don’t I look beautiful?

Yes honey but it’s time to go.

But I look beautiful, right? Just like your picture on the tv.

Again I was stopped dead in my tracks.

Of course one of our wedding photos sits atop our television and of course she’s asked to see it a million times. She has asked me about the dress, the veil, the flowers. We’ve talked about how Daddy was wearing a tuxedo with his Chucks and why Mommy wore no shoes. She sees her father dote on me. She’s never seen us fight. She has no inclining of what it means to be married and what it takes to stay married and only vaguely knows and understands the word “compromise.”

To her, a marriage is a wedding and a wedding means a fancy dress and a pretty veil and everyone telling you just how beautiful you are.

As a young girl, I can remember my father telling me over and over again that I never needed to marry. That he wanted more for me, and that I didn’t need a man. He told me this so much, that I began to think of matrimony as some far off thing “other” girls did and something I “might” do someday if I felt like it. But even during my most independent of moments, that dress and those flowers and that ring still beckoned. I wanted to be told I was beautiful and I wanted a man to love me forever and I wanted all those things and then some despite myself.

There was no rationale for it though. No coherent, logical reason. Just like there was no coherent, logical reason I nearly lost my breakfast when I saw my 4-year old dressed as a bride.

Maybe it was less about the wedding gown and more about her growing up. Maybe it was my want for her to do everything and see everything and enjoy everything before getting married and settling down.

Maybe because I am finally realizing she is not me. She does not need and want what I need and want, and there is no guarantee that what makes me happy, will make her happy.

Maybe I just realized she’s her own, tiny peanut of a girl who will do what she wants, regardless of what I say. Pencil instead of bouquet, wrinkled size 4 wedding gown, obstinate and strong headed, fighting me to keep it on, while I wrestle it off.

I may have gotten the dress off today…but I may not next time around.

School Clothes

To school...like this?

So let’s just say THIS is how your preschooler wants to attend class today. Where do you draw the line?

Girrl Power

Girrl Power

Girly Girl

I don’t think I pushed her that way. I don’t think I encouraged make up and dresses and changing clothes 10 times a day. I don’t obsess about matching or cute shoes.

Or do I?

At least she put on the Wonder Woman arm band for good measure.

How Hala dressed herself for dinner

Denial

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She doesn’t want to talk about “Mom being in the hospital.”

It never happened.

And if her brother starts to ask questions about my tests and appointments, she shushes him.

I’ve tried talking with her about how I will be fine, how I am sick and the doctors are fixing me…but she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing.

Which is fine, because I don’t either. It’s all gotten to be too much and Mom being sick has gotten out of hand.

I’ll just take her soft kisses on my belly as her own recognition that something isn’t right…and leave it at that.

New Hobbies

I’ve been in the garden. Her brother has been at karate. So it only stands to reason the 4-year-old found something to do:

She Will Marry A Hootin’ And Hollerin’ Construction Worker

I said look at me. And whistle. Yes, I said whistle. I SAID TO LOOK AT ME AND WHISTLE because LOOK how pretty I am.

Ham

That’s exactly what my daughter was saying as this photo was taken.

Hand on her hip and angry, she wanted a boy’s attention and she wanted it with a cat call.

I was horrified.

Of course we then had a discussion about wanting attention because we’re smart, not pretty, and that whistling was actually quite rude.

My daughter’s reaction? To sigh heavily like a 16-year old, throw her Hello Kitty purse over her shoulder, and then roll her eyes at me.

Uh huh.

My son, on the other hand, refused to participate and then repeated to her what I had said when she, again, asked him to give her a cat call.

Who’s child is this? Because she can’t possibly be mine.

Ok, Ok, maybe in the ‘wanting attention’ department she might be mine.

Ok, Ok, maybe she thinks gaining the attention of boys is..um…good. And maybe she learned that from….

ahhhh. Fuck.

This Is What Girls Do … ?

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I took my daughter shopping today and I feel guilty.

No, I didn’t buy her anything crazy or let her run the mall with wild abandon. I feel guilty because we, admittedly, had a girlie day.

She had asked to go “shopping like girls do” and I told her I would take her. And I did. And we had a damn good time.

She tried on clothes and twirled. She attempted to help me pick out “pretty dresses.” We ate lunch and acted like every day was girl day.

So why the guilt over being girls? I’m not sure. Perhaps the hardened feminist core that is me, hates the idea of “shopping and doing lunch” with my daughter. Teaching her “this is what girls do.”

But you know what? We did it, because she asked…and it was fun. I loved watching her find a new item on the rack and squeal. I did. I really did. I also loved watching her hold up a shirt to say “how does this one look Mamma?”

Now I’ll sit back and let you all tell me how this is what you knew would happen because Hillary lost. Ready? Go.