This week, Moonpie learned that dog treats do not really taste like bacon.
She is having a rough month, poor kid.
First Zuzu ate her crackers and got crumbs on her new Spiderman chair.
Then, while she was fussing at Zuzu, Pablo sneaked over and licked her cheese.
Then Zuzu drooled on the Spiderman chair, causing her to break into hysterical crying, because her chair is new and has Spiderman on it and Zuzu ruined it.
Then
one of the kids at school argued with her that Spiderman does not have
hair, which he does, and she couldn't convince him he was wrong, and he
kept arguing with her.
And then she had a playdate with her best friend, and after he left she had to clean up the mess that he made, which was SO UNFAIR, because it wasn't even her mess.
And
then she tripped over a toy and hurt her elbow, and then later she
slipped on the stairs and I grabbed her arm to keep her from falling
and it was scary and her arm hurt.
"This is the worst day ever," she wailed, and I had to agree with her.
And then it got worse. One of the girls at school who is beautiful and blonde and wears dresses every day looked at Moonpie scornfully and made fun of her Spiderman sippy cup, because it was a sippy cup and only babies use sippy cups. So I got Moonpie a different cup that had a straw, but the girl told her it was still a sippy cup because it had a lid on it. So I got yet another cup, one that lights up, and the girl told Moonpie it was still a sippy cup and that she had a secret club and Moonpie can't be in it, and I told her to fuck off and stop being such a little bitch, because MY GOD, you are four, leave my kid alone.
Then it got hot and Moonpie overheated on the playground because she has outgrown her cooling vest and I'm waiting for the new one to come in. Which prompted much teeth gnashing and wailing and renting of the clothes because she can't sweat, and she wants to just sweat like everybody else and the other kids are going to make fun of her, and it isn't fair.
And it isn't. And there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it.
But things haven't been all bad. Two weeks ago, Moonpie suddenly starting
sobbing uncontrollably ... over her hair. I finally managed to get out
of her that she wanted to cut her hair short, "like a boy." After a
bit more discussion, it came out that the reason she wanted short hair
was so the boy next door would want to play with her
again. She just cannot seem to grasp that he has stopped coming over
because of their four year age gap, not because she is a girl. He is
her first crush, her first love, and his absence is cutting sharp in
her life. I tried reasoning with her, guiding her, trying everything I
could to help her understand that looking like a boy will not make a boy like you, but she was resolute.
Moonpie wanted hair like a boy.
So she got it.
It's growing on me -- I like how easy it is to deal with in the morning, and it keeps the lotion out of her hair.
In looking for pictures of short girl hair to take in to the stylist before we got it cut, I was surprised by (1) the lack of children's hair styles and (2) the amount of vitriol aimed at parents who cut their daughters' hair short. Apparently I'm doing it because I am just lazy and selfish...? If I was a good mother (according to one of the forums I read but cannot find now to link) I would insist that Moonpie wear long hair and subject her to scalp deflaking, deep lotion conditioning, and daily hair braiding (with bows!), so that strangers will know she is a girl on sight.
Because the lesson I want my daughter to learn in life is that it isn't what's inside you that counts, it's what other people think of you.
It is hard to hear people whispering where you can hear them about your child. "Is it a boy or a girl?" we've heard them discussing. "I see a barrette, so it must be a girl." etc. etc. I want so much to wrap my arms around her and shelter her from everything -- cracker stealing dogs, cheese licking cats, mean girls, obnoxious strangers...
It is so hard to wear my heart outside of my body, to watch it careen through life, bruising me with each step, knowing that every hug I give her, every kiss I plant, that none of it will ever be enough to sustain her against the crush of the world. She will have to find the strength in herself to make it through life, and wisdom of that sort only comes from living through pain.
God grant me the serenity to see her through junior high ....
