Elizabeth has a pink room. It is a typical little girls room, pink with a Disney Princess bed spread ensemble. Well most of it is typical. she does have a green glass spider dangling from a spring below a shelf but otherwise completely pink.
A while ago she told me she had outgrown the Disney Princess theme and longed for something different. Dogs perhaps, or spots and maybe some stripes. I thought it odd that at age 5, she'd be through with princesses but we flipped the comforter over so it was solid pink and I suggested she think about it for a while. She thought and thought and soon I forgot but she was still thinking.
Enter older brother, who wants his room painted Yankees and Cowboys Blue. All of which reminds Elizabeth that it is time to stop thinking and announce her decision.
"I have decided on a color."
" What is it?" I cringe as Andy asks her and I repeat to myself "please don't say black, please don't say black."
"Red."
Am I ready for red? I liked pink. Pink was soft and quite, peaceful and passive. Red is full of energy, loud and passionate. Red is angry and dangerous.
I look at Elizabeth and realize my mistake. She is not pink. She is not passive, not quiet and not peaceful and I couldn't be prouder of that. She is loud, passionate, strong, angry and even dangerous (depending on when you cross her path) and I love her for it. She has all of those qualities of a girl who drenches each day with her imagination and who spends the night spinning a web of adventures for her own amusement come sunrise.
So to all the little girls out there who find themselves stuck in pink, grab a paint brush and paint yourself a path that leads to red
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Happy Father's Day
This year for Father's Day I am going to step aside. It was not an easy decision to make, in fact I really had no choice. I am just accepting what apparently is a natural part of life.
An 8 year old boy just does not need a Mom the way he used to. Oh he still needs her and always will but for now I just need to step aside an let Dad take over.
It is more cool to play catch with Dad. He throws better and even though I technically know more about baseball, it is more enjoyable to watch a ball game with Dad, not Mom. When I could not cite Major League statistics from the 1950's and failed to memorize Joe DiMaggio's hitting record, I knew I lost creditability. I tried to gain some back by recounting the ball game where Steve Carlton struck out his 3,000th batter. I was there and surely that must count for something. But it didn't.
I don't laugh at toilet jokes, but Dad tells really funny ones. I don't lay on the couch and watch TV, but Dad does. I get upset when my son's feelings are hurt or he is left out among his cousins, but Dad doesn't. He seems to know just what to say and how to move on without being hurt. Dad knows what is cool, how to handle bullies with one quick and witty comeback, he can talk to girls and do Everyday Math. Dad understands that when boys get together they burp and tease and wrestle themselves into a great big pile.
This year for Father's day I am stepping aside to make room for something that is bigger than life itself, the bond between a father and son. I am going to sit back and watch it grow (maybe water it every once in a while and feed it wings and frozen pizza). But most of all I am going to enjoy it.
An 8 year old boy just does not need a Mom the way he used to. Oh he still needs her and always will but for now I just need to step aside an let Dad take over.
It is more cool to play catch with Dad. He throws better and even though I technically know more about baseball, it is more enjoyable to watch a ball game with Dad, not Mom. When I could not cite Major League statistics from the 1950's and failed to memorize Joe DiMaggio's hitting record, I knew I lost creditability. I tried to gain some back by recounting the ball game where Steve Carlton struck out his 3,000th batter. I was there and surely that must count for something. But it didn't.
I don't laugh at toilet jokes, but Dad tells really funny ones. I don't lay on the couch and watch TV, but Dad does. I get upset when my son's feelings are hurt or he is left out among his cousins, but Dad doesn't. He seems to know just what to say and how to move on without being hurt. Dad knows what is cool, how to handle bullies with one quick and witty comeback, he can talk to girls and do Everyday Math. Dad understands that when boys get together they burp and tease and wrestle themselves into a great big pile.
This year for Father's day I am stepping aside to make room for something that is bigger than life itself, the bond between a father and son. I am going to sit back and watch it grow (maybe water it every once in a while and feed it wings and frozen pizza). But most of all I am going to enjoy it.
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