Fashionista 5.0

Fashionista 5.0

When I found out I was pregnant, after the initial “when are you due?” always came “well, what do you want, boy or girl?” Of course, my diplomatic answer was that what mattered to us most was that he or she was healthy. And, of course, that was the number one prayer. But, deep inside, I also followed that prayer with “God, please give me a girl…puullleeeasseee.” For what would I do with a boy? I am a girly girl through and through. I was picked last for all sports teams. I followed every fad in high school (Madonna, check. Flashdance, check. Bouffant hair like the latest country western star, check). I ran for campus activities chair freshman year in college so that I could be the hostess with the mostest. I have spent the equivalent of a down payment on a car in my lifetime on silly products and although not necessarily proud of that fact, will admit it.

So, after our first ultrasound when they said they thought it was a boy, I gulped and pushed my shoulders back thinking to myself, “you can do this, you can do this.” I rushed to the nearest shopping venue and immediately purchased the most adorable baby blue outfit for the little one to try to get into the spirit.

Thank my lucky stars (and certainly those prayers must have had something to do with it), they called me at 16 weeks following my amnio to tell me it was a healthy little girl. Hallelujah! The ultimate prize for the ultimate girly girl: a mini girly girl companion.

Now, fast forward five years. You get what you ask for. When the temperature plummets to zero degrees, we spend 30 minutes begging our little sweetie to don a pair of pants to keep her legs warm. For ski school last year, she insisted on a skirt over her snowsuit. Only recently, have pants entered the picture and that is largely due to her love of horses and riding for which pants are required.

Getting ready to go out is an exercise in style. Necklace, check. Hello Kitty chapstick/lip balm, check. Hair coiffed and styled, check. Snazzy shoes to match the outfit, check. Some mornings I sit back and wonder how this happened. I mean I was a girly girl but I don’t think I ever even thought about my outfit until like sixth grade!

Tonight, I received the ultimate confirmation. I have raised a fashionista. As background, I broke my toe a few weeks ago and found out that according to the orthopeds it is a “rare break.” Translation: surgery likely impending as well as the continuation of wearing a beautiful orthopedic boot shoe. So, I am standing in the background donning a cute little black dress and I utter to myself, “oh, where is the special shoe?” Immediately, the fashionista interjects, “oh, Mommy, how embarrassing. Do you really have to wear that?” Embarrassing, have I said that? Where, oh where did that come from? Then, “Mommy, what is that purple stuff on your towel?” “Oh, honey, that is the shampoo they gave me at the salon to try to keep my golden locks from being too golden.” (For those of you who don’t know, I spend a great deal energy turning previously dark brown locks into a more platinum shade of blonde.) “Well, Mommy, I think your hair looks the same. I would just tell them that there isn’t any reason for you to continue using the blue shampoo.” Well, thanks beauty consultant. I then head over to put a small coat of make-up on my face and as I go to shut the drawer, I hear “Mommy, I need to be powdered too.”

Ok, now I know that I have probably introduced too much princess stuff in her life, but there is NNOOO way that I have taken things to this level. This has got to be genetic. Her Auntie is also very girly so maybe it was a combined dose of she and I that led to this result. Or, maybe God is playing a funny joke on me. Regardless, as Tony toils over the retirement planning spreadsheets that have recently entered our lives, I think I had better have him insert a row entitled “fashionista support” because I can already tell that this little lady is going to be begging for Sevens instead of Levis and Juicy instead of Gap.

Nordstrom, here we come.

Getting My Man - The Sequel

Several weeks ago, I blogged about the drama surrounding five year olds and romance. Well, things have progressed. First of all, Mallory is not going to marry T-Man. She is going to marry K-Man (I believe unbeknownst to him) and was recently very concerned about A-Man. You see, Mallory was under the impression that A-Man was after her and wanted to marry her. She was so upset that she broke down before an outing in which she would have to drive in A-Man’s car. It went something like this:

“Mommy, I don’t want to marry A-Man. He follows me everywhere and I don’t like it. I don’t want to drive in his car for the field trip.” “Well, Mallory, it is only for 15 minutes. Why don’t you talk to A-Man during the ride about how you feel.” “OK, Mommy.”

Mallory proceeds to climb in A-Man’s car and get buckled in. Just five minutes out of the neighborhood she turns to A-man and says, “A-Man we need to have a talk because I need to tell you how I feel.” A-Man looks at Mallory with a 4 year old quizzical face probably thinking she is going to tell him about the ice cream she had for dinner last night and ask him his favorite type when he hears, “you see A-Man, I don’t want to marry you and I don’t want you to follow me around anymore. I am going to marry K-Man.” Mallory sits back with a sigh of relief after finally getting this off her chest when all of a sudden she is shocked to hear a voice say “I’m not going to marry you. I am going to marry Alise my neighbor.”
Well, after that, Mallory and A-Man fell right back into routine however Mallory now is just fine with A-Man following her around. We better just watch out because before long that old rule of wanting what you can’t have may come into play and the tables might be turned. Keep vigilant A-Man.

Oh, and as for my little angel and her fascination with T-Man…..she told me the other night that she in fact is not going to marry T-Man. Rather, she is going to wait until she gets older and seek out the biggest guy and that is who she is going to marry. Hmmm…well, honey, we will need to talk about those criteria in a few years. But, for now, big is good. Smile.

Getting My Man

Note: names have been changed to protect privacy

It may be as the result of too many Disney Princess movies. You know….girl always getting her guy. Or, maybe it is one of the rites of passage of turning five. (Keep reading as I am going for option A. I mean we are talking five!)

After a night out with Daddy at soccer at which many of her little friends were in attendance, my little girl bounces in to see me and plops down for a snuggle and a chat. Conversation ensues about who was there and what she did. She then quickly declares that she is going to marry a little boy who I will call T-man (and really he is “the man” with this group of 5 and 6 year olds). Well, for the past year and a half, she was always going to marry another little boy who we will call “M-man.” She used the word “marry” but it was never clear if she knew what that meant. I instantly question the change of heart. “Well, Mommy, you see Mallory and I like T-Man.” Hmmm…I start getting the picture.

Now as background, it is no secret Mallory has a crush on T-man. It really came to light during a recent school camping trip. First, you must picture T-Man. He is a miniature Indiana Jones complete with the hat, boots, swagger and confidence. He comes by it naturally as his parents are awesome; each also have a myriad of talents including dancing (we affectionately nicknamed his Mom "Dancing Queen" at our last party) and singing (the Dad entertains us with a smooth voice as he strums the guitar around a picturesque campfire).

Anyway, there we were on the playground, T-man surrounded by a gaggle of little girls oblivious to his obvious effect on them. He decides to head down to where some of the daddies were playing basketball and as is typical, three of the older 6 year old girls were flanking his sides. I swear it was Danny or Kenickie from Grease with the Pink Ladies following every move. Then, running as fast as her little legs would carry her, comes Mallory screaming “Wait for me T-man, I’m coming.” Finally, bringing up the rear was my little angel who was also screaming at the top of her lungs almost the exact same thing with one small difference: “Wait for me Mallory, I’m coming.” A pent up sigh of relief had emerged my lips as I realized she was still my little baby and unaware of romance and crushes. Or so I had thought.

Back to the post-soccer chat. “Well, honey, I thought Mallory liked T-man.” “Well, I like him now too Mommy.” “So, sweetie, is Mallory going to marry T-man too?” “No, Mommy, she says he is already going to marry someone else.” “Well, who would that be honey?” “Oh, one of the older girls.” “So, if Mallory can’t marry him and he is already going to marry someone else, how are you going to?” “Oh, Mommy (and I think I almost heard the word…Puuullllease…), I will be grown up then and I will find a way so that he doesn’t marry those other girls and chooses me.” This is all said with the utmost in seriousness, positivity and determination. There is no question that my little angel believes she is going to marry T-Man no matter what.

I sit back at that point and try to analyze how I should feel about this exchange. On the one hand, I am proud of the confidence, determination and security she is displaying in going after what she wants. On the other, is that manipulation, disregard for others’ feelings, and ego creeping up? Oh, Mommy, you think too much!

Well, it just so happens that T-man was with us last night and I had the opportunity to get his feedback on this new development. “So, T-man, my daughter told me that she is going to marry you.” He looks at me quizzically and responds, “No, I don’t think so. I am going to marry Le-Ann.” There is no doubt in the response. I could only think at that moment of all that T-Man will be learning over the next twenty-five years about the whiles of women. Watch out T-Man….little angel Afshary has set her sights on you. Reminds me of one of the great movie heroines of our time:

Scarlett: “Rhett! If you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?”

Rhett: “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Scarlett: “I can’t let him go. I can’t. There must be some way to bring him back. Oh, I can’t think about that now. I’ll go crazy if I do, I…I’ll think about that tomorrow. I must think about it. I must think about it. What is there to do? What is there that matters?

Scarlett: "Tara! Home. I'll go home. And, I'll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day!

Mommy School

Last night, my daughter and I were preparing dinner and a conversation ensued about learning. I was trying to instill in her the importance of school and practice in order to learn a new skill. And, she quickly responded, “yes, just like you did to be a Mommy.” Ok, this was news to me. “Honey, do you think Mommy went to school to learn to be a Mommy?” “Yes, Mommy.” “Where is Mommy school honey?” “The gym.” Huh? “You think Mommy goes to school at the gym?” “Yep, come on let’s check on how the pizza is doing.” Well, I had to chuckle. Mommy school. Don’t I wish.

Mommy School

Before having a child, we think we know a lot about what there is to know,

We quickly realize that indeed it is not so,

For with a child, the real learning begins,

It will keep going I am certain until our time reaches an end,

Joy is watching our little ones laugh, jump, sing and run,

Happiness is being together for a day of fun,

Patience is a deep breath as they challenge the boundaries we provide,

Frustration is asking to clean or pick up more than ten times,

Panic is when they slip from our sight for an instant that seems like infinity,

Relief is discovering them around the corner – pure divinity

Sadness is watching them hurt by a friend,

Restraint is not interfering and letting a lesson ascend,

Pain is seeing them sad, hurt or ill,

Wonder is the concentration they exude perfectly still,

Pride is watching them excel at a task of their choosing,

Or smiling at the journey even if they are losing,

Peace is their tiny hands wrapped around us and a whisper in our ear,

Love is indescribable, unconditional and able to draw a tear,

It is thanks that I give for the angel who gives us love and laughter,

My prayer to be the best Mommy I can in this life and the thereafter.