HERSELF

'Mom, can you help me pick out something for picture day?"

Several things go through my mind. The first one being: "Is this a trap?"

I don't let on that I am shocked.

My daughter and I don't exactly share the same style.

She is all ripped jeans and pink Floyd T-shirts. Converse and Rock.

I am all dresses and red lipstick.  I quite prefer things that are ALMOST ugly, but not quite.

But I don't say that, I calm my face (which is quite hard to do) and say "Of course." I cant say this with too much enthusiasm, because Emma letting me help her dress is as elusive as a silent fart while seated in a plastic chair. That shit is rare.

(.... and Emma has been dressing herself since she was 4.)

We enter her room. Teal walls and black and white everything else. Wise quotes are written on the wall with black sharpie and her art is meticulously pinned there as well.

I turn to her clothing, which is (like mine) hung up according to color.

I start to go through her clothing and pull out her Led Zeppelin White T-shirt with black 3/4 length sleeves. "I think you should wear one of your favorite T-shirts with your white converse."

I am quite happy with myself and so I smile.

She sighs and her shoulders sag. "I don't want to wear a T-shirt"

"Wha...." I look at her and then turn to her closet. "Honey, you wanted only t-shirts. Oh! Here is not a t-shirt!" and I pull out one of her plaid tops. "You can wear your plaid. I am sure on you it is not Dyke-ish!"

She shakes her head and gives me a look.

I turn back to the closet and reach waaaay WAAAAAAYin the back. I pull out a dress that should be covered in spider webs and forget-me dust. "THIS!" I announce proudly.

"NO dresses."

At this moment I am quite honestly trying not to laugh, I also think there is a learning lesson in this for her. "Babe. We have to go with our options. And yours are...Lemme see... Of Mice and Men, Pink Floyd, Green Day ...OH this one has good colors! " I say holding it up.

She shakes her disappointed head.

"Ah. Well maybe next year we shall think about this before the actual picture day. As of now...let see.." And I hold up a long sleeve top. It is grey and has black X's all over it. She puts it on.

"The cut is lovely on you. A vest would look perfect over it and several necklaces, all different lengths."

She grunts. The necklaces are too much.

"IT is HOT today."

"Yes it is, but you could always change afterwards."

*INSERT EMMA SIGH HERE ( which is tsunami-ish) Quite honestly, it makes me want to pop her head off of her body.

Instead I wait and hold everything in, because I am a mom and I am supposed to.

She decided that it is "FINE" and I begin to braid her hair to the side. At the end I put 6 thick black rubber bands in quick succession. It makes her look like a badass and I tell her so.

She nods and a smile appears on her face. A small one.

She puts on her thick black nerdy glasses (MY PICK!) and turns to go. "Hey."

She stops.

I touch her arm "You are a Queen."

She sighs "Yes MOM."

"Then act like it."

She leaves the room and I follow her as she walks spraying her with girly spray and telling her how beautiful she is.

Brandee is at the end of the hall and she looks at me over Emma's head with a bewildered look. I echo the same look back and do the whole Head shake, shoulder shrug. Which is silent speak for "I don't know what the fuck..."

She takes Emma to her stop, because I stayed home sick that day.

 

5 minutes later I get a Text from Emma: "Sorry Ma I just wanted to look pretty"

 

I respond "You are BEAUTIFUL, and your hair looks amazing. I love you."

 

"Love you too Ma."

Being a parent is tiptoeing around life lessons, but letting your child come to the conclusion themselves.  And believe me, it is hard to do.

When Emma got home that night, she decided that next year we will pick out an outfit while we shop for pictures.

I responded with "Very good idea."

It is my job to be cried upon, sighed at and ranted too and to be the person who will wait, listen and guide.

I am not in a competition with my kids over who is right and who is wrong. No parent should be. Of course we know more then they do. We are grown-ups and they are children.

I am not trying to grow Emma's faith or belief in ME, She has had that since the moment that she was born, was hungry and I fed her.

I am trying to do something even larger. I am trying to grow her belief in HERSELF.