I'm not a girly-girl. I never have been. I did play with dolls when I was little but I never did the whole ruffles and lace thing. I've never understood how some women can take 4 hours to get ready to go out, or those who can't even go to the grocery store without make-up. Pffftttt. I can get ready in 30 minutes, from shower to door... of course, it probably shows. I mean, I do wear make-up... but it's only in an effort to cover the flaws. And I don't mind getting dressed up every now and then... especially if there's a nice restaurant involved. And I do occasionally wear heels... but if I'm being really honest, that only came about when they started making jeans so damned long (I don't hem).
Anyway, as I say, I'm not a girly-girl.
I didn't expect to have a girly-girl either. When Ryan was a baby, I did dress her in pink... but mostly because she looked like a boy and her name is, well, Ryan. But those cutesy ruffly socks that most little girls can carry off? Nope. She looked retarded in them. I loved her in dresses, but never the fancy, flouncy ones. She never, ever played with dolls, preferring her stuffed animals, and given the choice between a tea party and climbing trees, the trees always won (still do, in fact).
But she's 10 now... in middle school. She's noticing boys (remember Kevin?). She's beginning to care what she looks like. Great. Today is picture day at school. And it seems the 'look' is incredibly important this year. The other day she told me she'd been 'browsing' on the online site for one of the department stores here and she found a to-die-for cute top in hot pink and just the right shade of brown (more mahogany than cherry, you know) to go with her gauchos and could we go get it and she'd even use her birthday money... breathe.
So we got it (with her money, as it cost more than most of my clothes and that just wasn't happening). And then? Last night she asked me if I'd curl her hair this morning.
Curl her hair.
Me... the very non-girly-girl who doesn't do curls. I do ponytails. And braids. And I can get tangles out like nobody's business. But curls? Crap.
But I tried. She's like me, though, and has more hair than any human has a right to and it's long and there's a lot of it and it's long. And there's a lot of it.
But I tried.
You know what she said when I was finished?
"It's OK, Mama. You're really good at lots of other stuff."
But my girly-girl sees my shortcomings and she loves me anyway. How lucky am I?