Growing Up Girl

In my family, there are four boys and two girls. It just so happens that my sister is 12 years younger than me; she turned nine the day that I got married. I grew up mostly surrounded by brothers and didn't try to be girly--that didn't come naturally to me. I could out eat, out run, and out yell most of the boys in the neighborhood.

Flash forward 25 years and now I am raising my own little girl. Alisa is three coming up on four. This morning she asked me if I thought she should be a princess. I replied, "Yes . . . or maybe a pilot who flies airplanes . . . . or a teacher . . . . or an interior decorator. Now that would be fun." Her reply was, "ok, let's stop there." Little did I know that she was really asking me if I thought it was a good time to play dress-up.

Alisa seems to have a strong predisposition to notice the outward image of people. At her three-year check-up, she told the doctor that she was fat. I wide-eyed told the doctor that she didn't get that from me. At least, I sure hope not. He said it was probably media images.

And then last month as we were getting dressed she said, "I bet Sophia won't wear something pretty to school today. Me, and Bella, and Emma always wear pretty clothes but not Sophia." Of course, I was appalled. I explained to her that we can be friends with people no matter what their clothes look like. Or for what they look like at all, for that matter.

Admittedly, Alisa is quite good with clothes. Not that she always chooses the best outfits but that she really does know what she wants. Many times I will go in her room, choose an outfit, and try to put in on her only have her say, "well, mom, I was thinking I would wear my button down jumper with my pink flowered shirt." Or, "actually, I wanted to wear my skirt and shirt that have the buttons all over." To her, going to school not looking nice is tantamount to sinning.

During the winter, it was skirts and dresses on even the worst days. One particularly freezing morning, I convinced her to wear a brown, velour, Nike track suit. She put it on but immediately regretted it.

"I hate this. I can't go to school like this!" she cried. I gently coaxed her to get in the car by telling her that we would ask her teacher if she thought she looked OK for school. On the way there, she intermittently cried and sighed and said she would not go in. I eventually persuaded her to get out of the car and thought that I had finally won the battle. But then, she would not let go of my hand no matter what anyone said to her. Finally the teacher told her that she had a princess dress she could wear over her clothes. That got her in. I threw up my hands in defeat and left. When I went to pick her up from school, I asked her if she really did wear a princess dress. She said yes but that when she got to wear one, all the other girls in the class wanted to wear one too. So the teacher had to get out dresses for everyone.

Oh, I felt really bad about that. After that, I gave up the clothes fight.

I never realized that it would be a challenge to strike a balance between teaching your girl to take care of her body and clothes but not judge others by their appearance. Of course, young children tend to look at things as black and white so I think I still have a chance when she learns to discern the shades of grey.