According to the men in my family, I am a bit of a feminist. I tend to disagree. I think that word is a little strong and has a negative connotation. I just don't want to be told I can't do something because I'm a girl. Nothing wrong with that, right? But at the same time, I'm a total girly girl. I love sparkly pinks and florals. I like things that are pretty.
So you can imagine after having two boys, I was uber excited when they told me we were having a baby girl. I think even uber excited is an understatement. I sat upright on the examination table, smearing that gooey, gross gel stuff all over my glittery black maternity top and said "Are you sure? How sure? I mean, I need percentages here, people!" And for the next several weeks I became that annoying woman who, after anyone asked "How are you today?" would respond with an insanely perky "Terrific! I'm having a girl!" Oh no, it didn't matter if I knew the person who was asking or not. It didn't even matter if they really cared how I was today. If they asked, that sentence exploded out of my mouth like projectile vomit.
Now please, don't go rolling your eyes. I would have been happy with another boy. As a matter of fact, I expected another boy. Here's why. Uberman has one female cousin. ONE girl out of 7 kids in his extended family. Then along came our two boys. Next, my brother in law and sister in law had a boy. So it was not looking too likely we would have a girl. I was pretty sure the men in this family only made boys. But our Boo was the first girl in this family in over thirty years. There have been two more boys born since.
Now I tell y'all this so you can get a feel for what I am about to tell you. (Relax, I am not pregnant.) My daughter brings up all these conflicting feelings inside me. The girly girl within me was so excited to finally have pink stuff in the house. Bring it on, baby. Little floral t-shirts and Barbies and baby dolls and Disney Princesses. Oh yeah! Bring. It. And I was a little concerned she would be a tomboy because she was surrounded by two brothers and three boy cousins.
On the other hand, the feminist side of me was worried she would be one of those helpless little girls who whined and batted her eyelashes and got everybody to do everything for her. Oh how I loathe those girls. So I would tell her all the time "You can do it, you're a big girl." I compliment her on being smart just as much as I compliment her on being cute. I make her figure things out on her own, often reminding her brothers it is not their place to help her all the time. And when she says "Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a nurse." I say "Good for you, Boo. You can even be a doctor." Or a lawyer. Or a business executive. You get the idea.
So yesterday, as we were crossing the parking lot at Target, she asked "Mommy, know what I want to be when I grow up?" And I waited with anticipation for her to run through her usual list of ballerina, Olympic swimmer, and my favorite, a mommy.... But no, not this time. Instead I heard . . .
Can you see why I'm a little conflicted? My inner girly girl was appalled, as Jedi's are rough and tough and have no sense of fashion. Yeah, I get it that brown is the new black, but that hooded robe made of burlap is not flattering on anyone. But I digress. The feminist me wanted to high five her and say "You would kick ass as a Jedi Boo! The force is definitely with you."
Sigh. What's a mom to do?
Then, this morning, I found a little reassurance. I felt completely at peace and positive I was raising a girl just like me. A girl who can be strong, yet feminine. A girly feminist if you will. What gives me this reassurance? Behold, my friends. I give you Boo's version of playing with GI Joes:
Can you see it? Look closer....
Apparently these military men needed a break from a hard day fighting the Cobra Commander, so they stopped to enjoy some delicious cakes and a refreshing pot of tea. And try on their wives clothes and shoes. Whatever. I'm not judging. Although that lavender bag does look hideous with that pink chiffon skirt. But this gives a whole new meaning to don't ask, don't tell, eh?
So, like mother, like daughter. I am just not sure this world is ready for two of us.