Archive for the ‘girls’ Tag
August 11 2011
I had to run an errand a few days ago and left my mom in charge of my kids. Or maybe that’s the other way around. I do keep expecting to come back one of these days and find my mother strapped to a chair, fire engulfing the living room.
Not that I’m so great, either. That’s how I feel about my own parenting abilities on most days, too.
As I walked in on this day, gone just over an hour, there was a slight aroma of honey in the air. It wasn’t a terrible scent, it could have been worse definitely, so I didn’t dwell on it. But then, I noticed my daughter. Who, granted, normally sparkles, but not like this.
She was shiny.
I meandered over to where Abby stood and ran my thumb over her greasy cheek, then through the gummy front of her hair.
“You’ve been in the chapstick, haven’t you?”, I questioned.
“Yeah”, Abby answered, proud of her application.
When my mom quickly spoke up, “I turned around for just a minute and she was smearing it all over herself. I didn’t even have time to stop her.”
I wanted to give my mother a hard time about it. I tried, in fact. But I couldn’t bring myself to scold her too harshly. There’s a reason why I knew what happened before she said a word. Abby did the same thing with me just the day prior, only that time with strawberry-scented that left her face tinted pink. They’re quick, curious little things, and it only takes less than a minute for trouble to brew. Although now that I think about it, that’s how fires start, too.
March 15 2011
My daughter likes to dress herself, and has ever since she could walk. I’ve even documented our disputes over her choice of wardrobe. She seems to have moved on from dressing like her brothers these days, finally preferring her own clothes. Except now, she wants to wear the same outfit every day of the week and has to have it just so. Including socks.
Abby’s socks must taste very good because the sock monster likes to eat them up. I’ve purchased countless styles and packs and I think we have about 5 matching pairs left. Though this is might be a good thing, considering my daughter is a fickled sort who can’t make up her mind.
As was the case the other day when she got herself dressed. Pants, shirt, another shirt (yes, she layers, sometimes multiple upon multiple), but lo! she was without socks. “Socks, mommy, socks!”, she demanded. Not wanting to deprive my daughter of warm feet, I dug through her unsightly mess of a drawer and came up with 2 pairs. One had blue stripes, the other red.
“We have blue stripes and we have red”, I said, dangling each pair in front of her. “Blue”, holding it with arm-outstretched. “Red”, pulling the blue pair back and doing the same. This continued on until I knew she understood.
“Blue?”, Abby asked pointing to the pair striped blue. “Red?”, doing the same with the red.
“Yes. Now, which one do you want to wear today?”
“Ummm….”, she mulled over her decision long and hard. “Yellow!”
March 10 2011
I’m not much of a makeup kind of girl. I used to wear a bit when I worked outside the home, before the kids, but I was never one to get completely made up. Since then, and in the midst of our many moves over the years, I had even managed to lose the bag containing my assortment of sorely outdated glosses and shadows. I didn’t even have a bottle of nail polish to my name. Replacing it all seemed like a task too daunting, however, especially when faced with the plethora of product in that department.
The other day, though, I mustered up the gumption to change all that. I admit, I’ve been feeling a bit down, so I thought it might be a tiny foot in the positive direction. In true form, I bravely treked down the aisle and picked the most boring, neutral shades available. But it was something, at least.
When I returned home, I poured my new purchases on the bathroom counter and began to rack my brain to remember how it was all supposed to be applied. All those years of reading Seventeen had to be good for something. The entire time, Abby was at my side, watching with both confusion and awe.
I leaned close to the mirror and smeared a bit of eyeliner on my upper lid. “This isn’t so bad”, I said to no one in particular. “Why did I stop messing with this stuff again?”
That’s when I looked down to find Abby had confiscated the eyeshadow. With brush in hand, she swiped a streak of sparkling brown across her forehead, then another down her cheek. “Pretty?”, she smiled.
Ah yes, that’s why.
November 09 2010
There’s been a copious amount of discussion recently about stifling gender roles in children. How boys are blue, girls are pink, and to step outside of this box is a recipe for ridicule. You’ve read it all, I’m sure. While I initially had little to say on the subject that hasn’t been said before, I then found a piece of my voice yesterday morning.
It’s not my sons that are stepping outside their bounds. They are blue as blue can be on their own. My daughter, however, could be considered color blind.
Growing up with two older brothers, it makes sense that she’d attempt to emulate them. In what they do and how they play and the clothes they wear. I’ve mentioned before, Abby is adamantly against dresses or too much frill. She’ll oblige me with a skirt now and then, but she feels most comfortable in a pair of her brother’s baggy, cinched-with-a-belt jeans. If that’s what she prefers, I’ll let her strut her choice when we take Jedi to the bus stop in the morning. Because I really don’t see the harm.
As was the case yesterday when my parents dropped by for a quick visit. My mother’s said words about her choice of fashion before, but this day she wouldn’t let it go.
“Why are you in your brothers pants? Those are GROSS. They’re boy pants! You’re a girl, you should be in girl pants!”, and she continued on. Even so far as to rifle through Abby’s dresser drawer to retrieve her a rarely touched pair of her own, which my daughter decisively dismissed.
Why does it matter if she wants to wear her brother’s clothes? Soon enough, I’m sure she’ll embrace an adoration of princesses and lip gloss, but it doesn’t need to be now. Even if she never does, so what? Children at this age are not weighed heavily by social rules and stereotypes. This is the only time of their life when they can truly believe it’s alright to be anything they want to be. Whether a boy wants to wear a dress on Halloween or a girl borrows from her brother’s closet. There is absolutely nothing to gain by suppressing that confidence. Let it be.
September 07 2010
A few days back, Abby and I had plans to go shopping with my parents. The boys would stay home while we enjoyed a few hours of relative serenity, eating breakfast out and scouring sales racks.
This is right up our alley. Abby adores clothes. In fact, at a little over 2 years of age, she has very strong opinions on fashion. She’s like a pint-sized Anna Wintour, but twice as temperamental.
I was getting us ready for the excursion, rifling through her overstuffed and crumpled drawer for an outfit suitable to wear. She was right there along with me, and just so happened to be nixing every choice I offered.
At first, I asked if she’d like to wear a lilac and blue striped dress. I know the answer to this question, but I still try because dresses are easy. It doesn’t matter how much I plead, though, she responds with a firm no.
I handed her pink pants, purple pants, a jean skort. She turned her nose at them all, brushed aside as if to say you’re kidding me here, right. Then, out of desperation, I suggested a full sea mist green skirt, accentuated with a petite bow on it’s side. “Yes!”, she agreed brightly.
That was just the start of it, however, because we still had to settle on a top.
All the while, J is eavesdropping and laughing at our conversation. When he finally speaks up to say, “I can’t believe you’re arguing with a 2 year old over what to wear.”
I can’t believe she already has a better sense of style than I do.
