Superiority Complex

I never wanted to have a little girl.  What did I know about raising a girl?  I had no sisters, only a brother.  I was a tomboy.  Dresses were for formal occasions.  I don’t wear makeup.  Makeup is for weddings, funerals, and job interviews.  And god forbid I actually do anything with my hair.  Styling my hair consists of pulling it back into a ponytail to get it off my face.  In fact right after highschool I hated my hair so much I shaved it all off.

Yet here I was, pregnant for the third time and the ultrasound said, it’s a girl.  We went shopping right after our ultrasound since as we’d been waiting to decorate the nursery until after we knew what we were having, and as I stood in the store looking at row after row of pink bedding I burst into tears.  I hate pink.  With a passion.

Weeks later we finally settled on some bedding that didn’t make me nauseous.  It was had a color scheme of yellow, blue, and green with a touch of lavender running through it.  I could live with that.  We painted her room lavender, and accented it with blue, green, yellow, and (yes I know it’s amazing) just a little bit of pink.  I was doing better, as long as I didn’t have to walk into a room that looked as if it were bathed in pepto bismol every single day I could probably handle this whole girl thing.

Ah but the clothes.  Everything was pink.  There was almost no getting around it.  But that doesn’t mean I didn’t try.  For the longest time I bought every outfit I could find that didn’t have a shred of pink in it.  Despite my valiant efforts, her closet still seemed to be overflowing with pink.  Which ended up being okay because she looks really freaking good in pink.

And yellow too.  I don’t buy yellow clothes very often.  Matt and I are both so pale that we look sickly when we wear yellow.  The boys inhereted our pasty complexion so I don’t buy them much yellow either.  But Kaylee has just a slightly darker complexion than the rest of us, which means she can actually wear yellow without blending into it.

Over the past two years I’ve gotten used to the idea that I am raising a little girl.  There are parts that I love about it, and parts that I hate about it.  I enjoy styling her hair more than I ever thought I would.  I guess when it’s not on my own head it’s much more fun to play with.  She’s much more snuggly and cuddly than my boys ever were.  She gives the best little hugs where she’ll wrap her arms around you and then start patting your shoulder as if she were comforting you instead of the other way around.

But then there’s the screeching.  Good lord do I hate the screeching.  Her voice can hit an octave and pitch that makes me absolutely cringe.  Why is it that every little girl is built in with the automated response to scream at everything they see?  There’s also her independent streak.  Though that may have less to do with her being a girl and more about her just being Kaylee.

I mean independence is a good thing in the right context.  But there are times that I think she knows when it is most inconvenient for her to be independent and she chooses just those times to exert her will.  For example, on days that we are running late for pre-school she will insist on walking down the stairs by herself which takes three times a long as carrying her down the steps.  But when we are early, she will ask to be carried every single time.

On the other hand, she definately knows what she wants.  The other morning I was getting the kids ready for school.  Brendan was in the shower, Cameron was getting dressed in his bedroom, and Kaylee was with me in her bedroom while I looked for an outfit for her.  As I was sifting through the outfits in her drawer, she looked at me and said, “Tan I be a pwincess today?”

In my head I’m thinking, aren’t you a princess every day?  But out loud I said, “Sure.  Do you want to wear one of your dresses?”  She smiled and clapped her hands before responding, “Yesh mommy.  I want to wear da yewow one.”  So I got out her yellow Easter dress and let her wear it.  Because how do you say no to something that cute?  She’s a princess and she knows it.

Which brings me back to my original question.  What am I going to do with a little girl?  Make her into the world’s greatest princess I suppose.

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