If I asked you if you if you'd rather show up at an event overdressed or underdressed, I'm pretty sure you'd say the former rather than the latter. I guess it's better to be a little bit too fancy than be slumming in jeans when all around you look glam. For most of us, this strategy applies to the occasional parties and functions where we find ourselves unsure of the dresscode. For Molly, to be attired in a ballgown while surrounded by folks in jeans and yoga pants is a daily occurance.
For those who know Molly, her personal style is well known; girly. Her level of devotion to her Sleeping Beauty dress is such that my mother-in-law refers to it as her "uniform". It is almost unheard of for her to wear pants. Leggings under a dress are okay but actual pants are not. She is very fond of accessories and takes great care to choose an assortment to compliment her look. Today she had change out of her Sleeping Beauty dress because we couldn't find a tiara. And Sleeping Beauty wears a tiara. Thank god Cinderalla wears a hairband. I swear I'm not making this up. She is very fond of Disney Princesses and has a wide range of items bearing their various liknesses.
It's no secret to Molly that I'm not really fond of her sartorial choices. Someone once complimented her on her outfit and her response was "thanks, my Mummy hates pink". The roots of this dislike are varied. For one thing I'm a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl. Sure, I like to slip on a frock and heels from time to time but my wardrobe is mostly about function, not fashion (okay, fine, my wardrobe is mostly about what's on sale at Zellers). I really can't wrap my head around choosing to wear a dress and tights on a daily basis.
Her fancy outfits are a daily reminder of my many failed efforts to bring her look more in line with my vision for how little girls should dress. I once swore she would never wear the princess dresses out of the house. I can't now pin-point the moment that intention went out the window; I only know that one day I was standing in a grocery store with a little girl in a Sleeping Beauty dress and this little girl was my daughter. And I was eating my words. I used to insist that she had to wear a complete "proper" outfit under the princess dress (my logic was that she might need to remove the dress in case we went to the park - turns out you can climb the monkey bars in gown if you're suitably motivated). I have tried endlessly to get her to wear pants. I pushed the sensible shoes. Over time all these efforts and more have fallen by the wayside. I may have given up trying but it didn't mean I was any happier with her clothing choices.
The main reason for my dislike, of course, are the ideas and images that go hand in hand with all this super-girly behaviour. The messaging in the Disney Princess books literally makes my skin crawl. In my mind looking like a girly-girly is equated with all sorts of behaviours and beliefs that I don't want anywhere near my girl. I sure don't want Molly thinking she's not up to any task, that her main purpose is to be a pretty face, or that she needs to be focusing on getting a prince to marry her.
But in the course of agonizing over what to buy her ladyship for Christmas, my wise Mummy made a very astute observation; did we agonize so much over what to buy Gabriel? The answer was no. From Thomas to Transformers to Lego, we've pretty much gone with whatever he was in to. So is it fair to deprive Molly of the things that so clearly make her happy? Is it fair to try and make her wear jeans when she doesn't want to? Am I really imparting morals in doing so or just coming off as a mean, unfair Mummy? Slowly I've come to realize that it's not only a waste of time trying to change her ways, saying she can't wear a fancy dress doesn't actually teach her anything about the kind of person I want her to be. If I think there are messages out there that aren't a good influence, I need to face them head-on.
So, I'm trying to stress less and enjoy the quirky little pink person that she is. I still don't like the dresses. Or the tiaras. Or the satin gloves (she got gloves for Christmas). But I love Molly. And I tell myself that there will be many chances over the years to tell her that she can be anything, do anything, go anywhere. That she doesn't need a prince to help her do any of it, but she can, if she wants to, do it all in a dress. I'm 100% sure about that last part because she shows me everyday.
March 31, 2011
March 25, 2011
amazing barfing girl
I have this great piece about Molly pretty much ready to post. But Molly is sick. So it doesn't feel right to post it now. So instead I'm posting about having a sick little girl who is sick for mysterious reasons. I'm very very glad that all her tests today came back clear but I would really really like to know why she is still throwing up and having excruciating tummy pain. But as gloomy as that sounds, there are many bright spots. And I guess this is a good post topic - the resilience of kids.
Moll's been under the weather for a week now. But when she's feeling good she's skipping and biking (well she was before the damn snow) and arguing with her brother and taking good care of her luvies. How the heck does she have the energy to skip? The last actual real meal she ate and held down was lunch 7 days ago! Everyone knows kids have reserves and energy that mere adults dream of having. It is beyond all logic and comprehension that she has the desire to do anything other than sleep. But yesterday after listlessly lying around at the doctor's office she has a strong desire to chase her brother and demand cheetos from the vending machine. Just watching her get sick kills any desire I might have for cheetos. And at the hospital today with half a bag of saline in her system she was bouncing around the room and demanding that I change the TV channel. (Is it just me or is a trip to Sick Kids kind of like a kids dream come true? I mean aside from the potential needles and tests, there are private rooms with TV, more stickers than you could dream of, freezies and she got a stuffed dragon for being brave with the IV!)
So here we are; every time she stops being sick I pray that this will be the last bout. She's sleeping now and every thing is crossed that she won't be sick again. Get well soon brave and spunky girl.
Moll's been under the weather for a week now. But when she's feeling good she's skipping and biking (well she was before the damn snow) and arguing with her brother and taking good care of her luvies. How the heck does she have the energy to skip? The last actual real meal she ate and held down was lunch 7 days ago! Everyone knows kids have reserves and energy that mere adults dream of having. It is beyond all logic and comprehension that she has the desire to do anything other than sleep. But yesterday after listlessly lying around at the doctor's office she has a strong desire to chase her brother and demand cheetos from the vending machine. Just watching her get sick kills any desire I might have for cheetos. And at the hospital today with half a bag of saline in her system she was bouncing around the room and demanding that I change the TV channel. (Is it just me or is a trip to Sick Kids kind of like a kids dream come true? I mean aside from the potential needles and tests, there are private rooms with TV, more stickers than you could dream of, freezies and she got a stuffed dragon for being brave with the IV!)
So here we are; every time she stops being sick I pray that this will be the last bout. She's sleeping now and every thing is crossed that she won't be sick again. Get well soon brave and spunky girl.
March 21, 2011
It's hard to guess - stop trying
“Hey Gabriel! Get on the D!”. The words come through our open kitchen window. Finally it’s a mild afternoon and the kids are playing ball hockey. I’m listening because my two are part of the fray. I really notice that comment because the Gabriel who needs to get on the “D” is mine.
It’s just a comment between kids playing but I’m immediately anxious, waiting to hear what’s going happen next. Does he care he’s getting yelled at? Does he even know what “the D” is? I’m hoping it won’t end in tears. When social/sporty things get challenging for Gabriel it’s not unusual for him to give up entirely. Which, in true maternal guilt fashion, I interpret as a failure on my part. But no, the game continues, with Gabriel! Maybe he’s figured out what “D” is?
Moments later I hear crying. I head out and see Gabriel being escorted home by one of the older girls. “He got hit in the face with a slap shot, whatever that is” she tells me. (She doesn’t know what a slap shot is????.). Gabriel is in tears and one hand is clamped firmly on his right cheek. I simultaneously hug him and try to peel his hand away. His cheek is flaming red and I gently open his mouth, scared I’m going to see blood and broken teeth. But I see neither. Aside from a tiny drop of blood on his lip (which is probably from them being chapped) he is perfectly fine. But I lead him home, relieved that he can “gracefully” exit the game with a good excuse before he ends up quitting in frustration. “No, I want to keep playing”. He’s already pulling away from me and heading back to the game. And these are the moments in parenting when you are reminded that you might as well give up trying to guess what’s going to happen next.
Another recent example of this lack of predictability comes courtesy of Gabe’s best buddy, D. We've recently noticed that Gabriel has developed a facial tic. He periodically takes very exaggerated deep breaths in. He opens his mouth wide and you can clearly hear him take a gulp of air. And within the past couple of weeks it’s been happening with increasing frequency. It seemed inevitable that someone aside from family was going to notice and ask about it. And it was D. The exchange went something like this –
D – Why are you doing that?
Gabriel – That’s how I breathe.
D –Can’t you just breathe like this? (helpfully demonstrates normal human respiration)
Gabriel - No.
Now D’s a super sweet kid, but in my mind the next words out of his mouth are something along the line of “that’s so weird” or “annoying”. Not mean, but negative. But no, D says “Huh. I’m going to breathe like that too”. And he gives it a try. Did I see that one coming? Nope. Of all the reactions I anticipated, admiration wasn’t even on my radar. I felt immeasurably better and it gave me some much needed perspective.
And that’s parenting for you right there. You might as well not even bother trying to anticipate the outcome of, well anything really. Just sit back and wait for it to happen. Easy right? Of course once “it” happens, you are very often compelled to actually do something. Darn.
It’s just a comment between kids playing but I’m immediately anxious, waiting to hear what’s going happen next. Does he care he’s getting yelled at? Does he even know what “the D” is? I’m hoping it won’t end in tears. When social/sporty things get challenging for Gabriel it’s not unusual for him to give up entirely. Which, in true maternal guilt fashion, I interpret as a failure on my part. But no, the game continues, with Gabriel! Maybe he’s figured out what “D” is?
Moments later I hear crying. I head out and see Gabriel being escorted home by one of the older girls. “He got hit in the face with a slap shot, whatever that is” she tells me. (She doesn’t know what a slap shot is????.). Gabriel is in tears and one hand is clamped firmly on his right cheek. I simultaneously hug him and try to peel his hand away. His cheek is flaming red and I gently open his mouth, scared I’m going to see blood and broken teeth. But I see neither. Aside from a tiny drop of blood on his lip (which is probably from them being chapped) he is perfectly fine. But I lead him home, relieved that he can “gracefully” exit the game with a good excuse before he ends up quitting in frustration. “No, I want to keep playing”. He’s already pulling away from me and heading back to the game. And these are the moments in parenting when you are reminded that you might as well give up trying to guess what’s going to happen next.
Another recent example of this lack of predictability comes courtesy of Gabe’s best buddy, D. We've recently noticed that Gabriel has developed a facial tic. He periodically takes very exaggerated deep breaths in. He opens his mouth wide and you can clearly hear him take a gulp of air. And within the past couple of weeks it’s been happening with increasing frequency. It seemed inevitable that someone aside from family was going to notice and ask about it. And it was D. The exchange went something like this –
D – Why are you doing that?
Gabriel – That’s how I breathe.
D –Can’t you just breathe like this? (helpfully demonstrates normal human respiration)
Gabriel - No.
Now D’s a super sweet kid, but in my mind the next words out of his mouth are something along the line of “that’s so weird” or “annoying”. Not mean, but negative. But no, D says “Huh. I’m going to breathe like that too”. And he gives it a try. Did I see that one coming? Nope. Of all the reactions I anticipated, admiration wasn’t even on my radar. I felt immeasurably better and it gave me some much needed perspective.
And that’s parenting for you right there. You might as well not even bother trying to anticipate the outcome of, well anything really. Just sit back and wait for it to happen. Easy right? Of course once “it” happens, you are very often compelled to actually do something. Darn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)