Dear almost seven-year-old daughter,
I am writing you this letter because something you asked me weeks ago has had me thinking for weeks.
You turned and looked up at me with your sweet smile and those big, beautiful, brown eyes with those eyelashes that women like me wish they had: “Mommy, do I have any play dates after school this week?” At first, I was worried that you were on to me. As a mom of four, I’m outnumbered, and it’s often frankly hard enough to keep track of you and your brothers and where I should be taking any of you at any given moment, or who I should be picking up and when (and, for the record, yes, I once did forget your oldest brother at school. It was only once, and I assure you he will never forget it, and more importantly, nor will I). Lord knows I have my weaknesses, and I admit I am certainly not the best at scheduling play dates, and certainly not so far in advance.
But you weren’t asking me because you were somehow telling me I was a grossly-inadequate-poor-play-date-arranging-mom, you were asking me for a specific reason. You wanted to know when your friends were coming, so that you could plan ahead.
“Plan ahead?” I asked. “Plan ahead, for what?” I asked in my very curious, forget everything else, mommy tone. You know the one you wish I used more, instead of the all too familiar half-paying attention voice of a mom being distracted by chasing your toddler brother, deciding what to make for dinner, and helping one of your brothers study for a test.
You, my sweet still six-year-old girl, told me something that will probably stick with me forever. You told me you wanted to have time to “hide your Barbie dolls and Hello Kitty stuffed animals in the closet.” You were adamant about having time to hide two of the things you love to play with most, when not playing a favorite app on your iPad or coloring, or watching American Idol, or playing piano, skating or playing soccer, or playing with your collection of American Girl dolls.
You explained that some of the girls in your first-grade class had told you “Barbie dolls were for babies.” Really? I could hardly imagine babies playing with Barbie dolls.
Nevertheless, it got me thinking. I said some of this when we spoke, but I want to say these six things now, in writing, before you turn seven at the end of the month.
1) You don’t need your friends or your classmates or anyone for that matter, including me or your father or brothers who adore you, to tell you what you should or should not like. If you like Barbie dolls, and want to play with them until you are 40, so be it. I’ll be honest here – most of my friends talk about the days spent at The American Girl café and store with their daughters for weeks. While it’s a highlight for many of your friends, it may perhaps be an even more memorable day for their moms and grandmothers too. It might be because we know, far too well, from our own lives, just how fleeting this time is – the time when you want to put on a dress, hold our hand and run into a store full of dolls and every doll accessory imaginable. And, for the record, I’m going to enjoy every second of it before it’s gone.
2) And, this might be worth sharing with any of your friends who are the “oldest” in their family. You will grow up before you know it. I’ll close my eyes and you won’t be six anymore. You won’t want to cuddle in bed with me, turn on Taylor Swift or Carly Rae Jepsen and dance like crazy with your baby brother in the kitchen. You won’t want me to stay at a “drop off” party with you (even though all the other moms leave), you won’t reply to my “I love you” with an “I love you more” and you probably won’t want me to pick out your clothes one day in the not too distant future. My sweet girl, you will grow up all too quickly. You are already well on your way to becoming a remarkable young woman. I know time passes too quickly because your oldest brother is almost 12 and it seems like yesterday I went through a drug free delivery (something I never chose to repeat again, mind you) and became a mom – a life-changing day. I know this because I have 11 ¾ years of motherhood under my belt – granted, it’s a slightly larger belt than my 29 year old waist demanded, but who is measuring?
3) And, please understand that Mattel isn’t paying me a dime to say this. Barbie dolls are cool. And truthfully, listen carefully – anything you think is cool is – so long as it doesn’t hurt you or someone else. It reminds me of the book Purplicious, which I read to you over and over again years ago. Remember how Pinkalicious loves the color Pink, but all the girls at school like black? They tease her, saying that pink stinks and pink is for babies. Sound familiar? Remember how we talked about how cool it was that Pinkalicious remained true to herself? It was equally cool that in the process she discovered that pink isn’t just a pretty color, but also a powerful one. Remember how it turned the blue frosting into the perfect shade of purple?
4) I guess what I am trying to say is this. Be your own person. Don’t let others tell you what you should like or wear or say or most importantly of all, feel. Now, before you go off dying your hair bright purple (my favorite color by the way, but not for hair), understand that I am not suggesting you go out of your way to be totally different either, as that isn’t going to make growing up a walk in the park either. But, what I am saying is you are special, you are you, you light up a room, you make your family and friends laugh, you have a big heart, you my sweet rose, are certainly not a wall-flower. You are that perfect blend of girly-girl meets tomboy. You roll down hills with your brothers and don’t mind getting perfectly muddy. You fit in seamlessly with your large posse of male cousins. You enjoy building legos at recess with boys in your class (with three brothers in the house, of course you do). You enjoy getting your hair done at “girly” parties (and by the way, I like that you don’t always want your make-up done – as fun as it can be, it’s just so impressive to me that you can decide you don’t want to do something despite the fact that 20 other girls your age are doing that same thing). I really hope you will always take that fierce sense of independence with you as you grow up. You are courageous and adventurous and amazing. At six you have skied down mountains, learned to ice-skate far better than I every could, and each time you fall, which you often do, you get right back up and usually do so with your great big smile. You’ve played piano in concerts with kids more than twice your age without missing a beat, and gone off to a summer camp where you knew no one but your brothers, although most of your friends were going to a different day camp. Keep your confidence and always be true to you.
5) Your true friends will like you, even if you like to play Barbie dolls, and they don’t. And, if they don’t, they probably aren’t really your friends. It reminds me of that great quote by Dr. Seuss: “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” As you will learn as you get older, and I truly hope these life lessons aren’t so difficult to handle, your friends will change through the years.
6) Understand that I will gladly sit on your carpeted floor (the one with all the marker stains on it), next to the tufted ottoman in your lilac painted room and play Barbie dolls, anytime you want, so long as someone makes sure your 20-month-old brother isn’t swinging from any of our chandeliers, and one of your older brothers takes out the garbage, while the other sets the table.
I love you and your vast collection of dolls.
I love that you while you grew up watching iCarly and love to watch Victorious, you also have a soft spot for TV shows intended for younger viewers, and will even gladly watch Elmo with your brother too.
Soon enough you will be out of first grade, no longer eagerly donning a red and white hat on Read Across America day, and like your oldest brother off to middle school. It will happen in what I imagine will seem like the blink of an eye. You will leave your Calico Critter townhouse behind without looking back, perhaps a Barbie doll hidden in the back corner of your closet, beneath your too small skates and collection of camp spirit week t-shirts, much like the toys from Toy Story 3, and will be asking me to help you pick out your bedding for college. I so hope you will ask. And, for the record, I am tearing up at the very thought of it.
I’m certainly not rushing you.
You will grow up when it’s your time.
In the meantime, enjoy playing with your Barbie dolls and being six-year-old you, even if, on occasion you think you need to hide a doll in your closet when a certain child comes over for a play-date, if I ever get around to actually scheduling one. I am enjoying being the mom of my 6 11/12 year old girl. And, for the record, I love you more than all the Barbie dolls in the world.
xoxoxo
Love, your very proud MOM
