Saturday, the girl came along on a trip that became shopping hell. In the eighth store of our 11 store trip, I was near tears in a dressing room surrounded by a pile of rejected outfits. No, we weren’t shopping for her, just me. I have an event to attend this weekend (two, actually) and worked myself into a frenzy searching for something to wear.
The girl was trying to help, but in the first several stores, had something awful to say about everything I tried on. By store seven she was apologizing for being so critical. By store nine she was suggesting just a new bag or a pair of shoes, to go with whatever we might dig out of my closet.
It was a craptastic shopping trip.
I did, finally find something I could live with in store 11.
My dear, wonderful daughter came to me with a book and said, you need to read this: “Compare? No Fair! It’s tempting to compare yourself to girls you see on TV and in magazines and movies. But hold on! is it fair to measure yourself against made-in-Hollywood images created by makeup artists and photo wizards? No way! You don’t need to measure yourself against anyone at all, including friends or other girls at school. You’re you — a one-of-a-kind original — and you’re beautiful in your own unique way” from the American Girl book The Care and Keeping of You.
And she’s right, and taught me a lesson I should have been teaching her.
What lessons have your children taught you?
Unexpectedly, I had “The Talk” with the girl when she came home from school yesterday.
I wasn’t prepared at all. Sure, I’d thought about what I’d say, and was a little nervous about broaching the subject when the day finally came. Nevertheless, I wasn’t ready. We’re never ready for our little ones to grow up, are we?
It was not my intention, although I wonder how much control we have over these things, to have the conversation go so much like the same one I had with my mother, oh, 25-26 years ago. It went something like this:
The girl: So, there’s really not a Santa Claus, right?
Me: What do you think?
The girl: I think there isn’t. I think it’s just the parents.
Me: If that’s what you want to believe, that’s OK with me.
The girl: (shocked, indignant) So you’re admitting it?
Me: (shrugging, hands in the air)
The girl: So you just buy all the presents?
Me: (hands in the air, busted)
The girl: So there’s no Tooth Fairy, either?
Me: Nope.
The girl: Wait. What about the Easter Bunny?
Me: Right.
The girl: (pauses, has another bite of her apple, considers) So will I still get an Easter basket?
Me: Probably. But can I stop giving one to your brother? I mean, he’ll be 17 by Easter and it’s getting kind of ridiculous.
I took some shots around the neighborhood so I could show friends and family the peak of our fall color. Some of them live with no “autumn” to speak of, so I thought I’d share.
Fall is my favorite season.
Clicky clicky for the full fall slide show.
Clover is a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier.
He’s thinking, however, of going as a poodle for Halloween.
I think he’s all set.
That’s Barry, there on the left with the giant can of beer; an essential accessory for any summer outfit.
Barry is coming to visit us in Charlottesville for the weekend. He’s my first St. Louis friend to visit (Ed and Sean visited Mark before I moved here). We’re pretty jazzed about showing him around town — for eight months we’ve been saying “Barry would love this” about various spots around town.
We told him we’ll take him to Miyako for dinner and he said that even if that’s all we do, he’ll be happy. We’re going to hit some wineries and give him the grand tour of our new home. He’s going to love it here.
