Call me sentimental, a sap, whatever. I cry at Hallmark commercials, love stories, sad endings, heck, I've even found myself tearing up whenever I hear a commercial on satellite radio for Onstar!
At any rate, I never really thought I would make a good mother to a girl because I find I have a tough time identifying. Not that I don't know what it is like to be a girl, I mean, I'm hormonal and I can definitely identify with that. But I'm not a girly girl.
My parents believed that little girls should be just that- little girls. The only color nailpolish we were permitted to wear was pink- like cotton candy pink, not prostitute pink. We were not allowed to get our ears pierced until our ninth birthday. I wasn't allowed to start shaving my legs until the summer before sixth grade that I spent a week with my grandparents and I lied. I told them that I had simply forgotten to pack my razors so my grandma let me buy some at the drugstore. Sweet, I got away with it, now how the heck am I supposed to shave? I didn't know you were supposed to use soap! And honestly, sixth grade probably is early to worry about shaving- or is it?
We were not allowed to wear makeup either. I secretly bought some with my friends the summer before seventh grade- although I never really learned how to apply it correctly. My mom gently tried to suggest to me that I tweeze my brow line and I didn't understand what was wrong with it. I look back on pictures of my unibrow and think YIKES.
I was not the "in" girl when it came to fashion. I say it all the time- I'm stuck in the 80's. I said that to my husband the other night and his reply was "No sweetie, not the 80's, more like 1992". And he is right. I didn't, and still don't really, keep up with the times. I was still wearing Levi 512's (above the waist, slim fit leg) up until about 2003 when my niece asked me why my pants were so tight around the ankles. I finally broke down and bought my first pair of bootleg jeans that year and now that I have bootleg in full swing I see that "skinny" jeans are back. See why I don't bother?
So anyway, what it all boils down to is that I worried that I wouldn't be able to give a daughter the true girl experience. If she wants to learn how to wear makeup I will have to take her to the Clinique counter. Except for girls her age it will probably be Mac. If she wants to know about fashion or style she will have to talk to her Aunts. I can definitely teach her how to shave though- and I would much rather she learn it from me than in the self mutilating manner in which I learned.
I swore that Hayley was not going to be a girly-girl. And yet, I am so wrapped up in giving her the chance to be that girly-girl. If she chooses not to be, then more power to her. But I don't want to make that decision for her.
I have found that I am a much more sentimental wreck about things than I expected to be. I have been thinking for nearly a year now about what I was going to buy her for her first birthday. There's that silly Type A tendency again. Who starts planning their baby's first birthday gift the day they are born?
I thought long and hard and I know my husband is not amused by my answer. I decided that every single year I will buy Hayley a piece of jewelry for her birthday. Not anything extravagant or over the top. But you know, birthstone jewelry always goes on sale like 50% off in the month that it belongs to. So October birthdays are opal. I found a beautiful simulated opal butterfly pendant on a gold chain and it was 70% off. I bought it. Next year maybe a pair of stud earrings, another year maybe a bracelet, and so on and so forth. Then I am thinking (and this will depend on her maturity level) that the year I figure out that she is responsible enough (and interested enough) for the jewelry I will buy her a beautiful jewelry box (probably an armoire by that time) and I will give her every piece that I have put away for her. I can tell her, this butterfly was for your very first birthday. It was the year that I watched you blossom from an infant into a little girl.
See what I mean? I'm sentimental like that. And I hope that I pick the right year to do it. That it won't be the year that she decides her mom and anything associated with her mom is uncool. Because I do know that as hard as parents try, that year will still come. And then eventually she will grow back into realizing that her parents are, if not cool, at least ok. And I just hope by then that my heart is strong enough to take it.
