booandbunny

Tucking her in last night, searching for the right word, all I could tell her was: “You are so strong. So strong. It’s one thing to learn to go out and punch and kick. It’s another thing to go out, knowing you’re going to get punched and kicked, and take it and keep fighting. You are so strong. Here,” I kissed her forehead. “Here,” I squeezed her bicep. “Here,” I squeezed her leg. “And here,” I tapped a tickle zone. She flashed a weary but ever-sparkling smile and burrowed deeper into the covers.

Every day I marvel at her perfect blend of girly frills and tomboy force. Last night was a great example. To advance to orange belt at karate she had to fight for 30 minutes, prove she could defend herself even when worn out. Six four-minute bouts with a one minute break in between, all carefully monitored by parents and instructors. She stayed on her feet, blocked, punched, kicked her way to the next level. Took a few good blows (mind you, she wears loads of protective gear, limiting damage but she still feels the pain).

“Mommy, I couldn’t hold back the tears,” she said all red in the face, snot streaming from her nose after the crying, hair sticky with sweat. She was smashed between two 11-year-old boys, the friends who just fought her as she took the next step in her journey. She was embarrassed about the crying, but more about the boogers I think. Free from the congratulatory grasp of the final 11-year-old boy (No, her dad and I aren’t sure how we feel about this ;p) she took a hug from her hero, a 15-year-old girl balancing the same frills and force at a different stage in life, then pulled off gear and went to clean up her face.

The evening at the dojo wore on and her dad and I finished our tests. As I was cooling down I looked over to see my daughter with her back to her hero, who was carefully braiding the long shiny locks I’m not allowed to braid.

At 9 my daughter’s getting too old for some of the kinds of time we used to spend together. Maybe I just don’t want to admit how close she is to leaving her childhood, to entering adolescence, to discovering the kind of woman she is and the kind of woman she wants to be.

She was sitting across the table from me working on a scrapbook about her cats while I worked on my scrapbook about her. Suddenly I had a vivid memory. Seeing this amazing person before me, it was hard to realize it was the same body I had held in this full-color recollection.

She was about four days old … smaller than a bread box … wearing a green and white striped onesy with a little Noah’s Ark embroidered on it. Surrounded by pillows, none of which was in the right place to help us. My early ’90s jewel-tone paisley bedding was quite the clashy background to that gender-neutral onesy. Her hair was much darker then, what she had of it. But that’s not what I remember most in this moment. Its her beet-red body, tensed in a perfectly rigid protest … her shiny, toothless gums … her trembling tongue as she silently screamed holy, bloody murder. The only sounds she made came when she gasped for breath. All this I remember through the blurred vision of a sobbing mother.

“This is not what I expected,” I blurted to my husband when he came in. “She won’t eat! I can’t get her to eat!” What a man, calming us both down the way he did. Nothing’s more irrational than an engorged first-time mom with a baby who won’t eat. Looking at her scream all I could think was “We can’t go to the zoo together. I can’t read you stories or do projects with you. I can’t even FEED you right now! How am I going to this?”

But then an amazing thing happened. She figured it out. I figured it out. She grew. I grew. I’ve found so many new corners of myself in my daughter’s eyes. And we go to the zoo and we do lots of projects and she loves stories … all kinds … a good book … a good movie … an inspiring piece of art.

Of course sometimes she doesn’t mind the kinds of time we used to spend together. Over the weekend she wiggled her way next to me on the sofa and covered us both with a blanket. She watched Harry Potter, I drifted off to sleep, just like those late nights in the rocking chair after she finally figured out how to eat. That’s my girl … my young woman.

Frill and Force.

I can’t wait to see what else we figure out together.

Making one of my regular blog stops I found this and just don't know enough about how to post it here. I found this video so moving. I can see where some might find it amusing, or share it as a joke, but Alexandra's words popped into my head.

I hope I find time to write more today ... This collision has brought light to the darkened creative corner of my brain. Happy Monday.

This was fun for a former reporter. I gave myself 30 minutes, 600 words and a topic I'm passionate about. Consider it an editorial in news-feature form. Made the time limit, came in well under the space limit, which would be good in the ol' newsroom 'cause this story cries out for pictures. If you think the new blog would be a good idea, give me a shout ... I just might be up to the task! Until then, spend your power wisely and enjoy your weekend.

Retailers, designers in shock
Girls clothing, shoes sit on racks another week

As the spring season gives way to summer retailers and designers across the region have been thrown for a major loop by the lack of demand for girls clothing and shoes. One manager of a local Target reported no movement in his girls shoe department in the past three weeks.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “Moms and young girls have been walking out of here with tennis shoes and nothing else.”

At the local mall things were almost as bad. “I’ve never seen an entire season’s fashions sit on the racks,” a Macy’s rep said. “We have no idea what to expect with the back-to-school season. The winter orders are on my desk. I just don’t know what to send in.”

Mid-range retailers such as Marshall’s and Kohls reported some sales, having restocked certain brands twice in the past two weeks.

“One thing I’ve noticed is that the styles that are selling are all similar to each other,” a Kohls rep said. “They’re what I would call ‘girls’ clothes’ … you know … smocked sun dresses for Easter, sandals with ankle straps. The camouflage bubble minis and sparkly flip flops are going to be 60-80 percent off soon. I can’t believe we still haven’t sold any of that stuff.”

One mom was spotted with her 9-year-old daughter at Marshall’s on Friday in the shoe department. The little girl didn’t even turn her head to look at the wedge-heeled flip flops.

“She’s never been allowed to have that stuff,” the mother said. “And she knows better than to ask for it now. She’s 9 … not 19. And there’s no reason my 9-year-old should be forced to dress that way. If I search hard enough, there are options.”

Apparently more and more moms are feeling this way, some dad’s too.

“I wouldn’t let her wear that when she’s 15,” a dad said in Target on Saturday. “Why would I let her wear it when she’s 7?”

Meanwhile, in the blogosphere reporters are combing through a recent find encouraging consumers to exercise their full power. “Why buy it if you don’t really like it?” said Friday’s entry at She’s9NotBrittany.blogspot.com. “You work hard for that money! Spend it on something you find appropriate for your young daughter, not what retailers are sticking out there and saying they should wear.

“If enough of us put our money where our mouths are, designers and retailers will be forced to change to meet demands.”

Until then, the Marshall’s mom and her 9-year-old daughter will continue the pattern they’ve followed for years.

“First we try Target, then Kohl’s, then Old Navy and Marshall’s. I don’t know why I stick to that order because I have different luck every season,” the mom said. “But I can’t afford the places that really make clothing for young girls, such as Talbot’s or Children’s Place. So, we just find a day when we’ve got the energy to shop and get what we can. She knows our rules, and I think she just might be beginning to understand them. Just because everyone else does it doesn’t make it right for you. And I’m only spending our money on what I think is right for her.”