If you've ever reached a point when you suddenly realize the only Bratmobile around here is your mini-van - the only thing sucking your left one is a breast pump, and raising daughters in a post-riot-grrrl place in time makes you want to embrace your inner-Lilith fair...then you're with me on this one.
When Sophia was born, the idea of bringing up a girl made me want to trade in torn fishnets and combat boots for pearls and a ruffled apron. Not once had I ever considered that the ideals I had strived to embrace would be the very things I would almost want to shield my daughters from. I hadn't an inkling as to how to go about striking a balance. I just know that I wanted to forget everything that was difficult and awful about being a female, and just fill her world with kittens and rainbows. The idea of a beer swilling, chain-smoking, foul-mouthed chick made me shudder, and it made me want to embrace tutus and ponies and put her in a sparkly bubble of glitter until she was 37. My plan was falling into place nicely. We bought her a Cinderella coach bed. We took her to Disney World to meet real live actual princesses, we gave her hundreds of dolls, and all of them had heads. We filled her world with all of these things until it looked like Barbie vomited all over the house. We thought we had it in the bag...until the other one came along.
This kid came out smoking a Chesterfield King and sporting a tat. She is mean, she is strong-willed, she is in your face, and I like her. I love her. I can relate to her. She acts the way I wish I could 24/7. Of course I love my daughters equally and for very different reasons. I have a feeling they will be polar opposites throughout their lives. In a way, I guess that means they really are an accurate extension of myself. I will always see the world as a big pink fluffy cupcake that just begs for a skull and crossbones on top.
To this day I'm still not sure how to find the middle ground between shielding my girls from everything that is wrong in this world, and giving them the tools they need to run head on screaming right into the middle of it. I'm hoping we can learn together. And so, for now, in the doorway of my demise I stand...encased in a nursing bra, a macaroni necklace, and a happy heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment