I cleaned my daughter Zoe's room today. This is noteworthy because I had previously told her I was not going to do this. She has a terrible habit of making messes and then expecting me to clean them. I figured that at nine and one-half years old, she can clean her own messes. It became a battle of wills. You already know who won.
So I spent a long time in there today, organizing and reorganizing and piling and sorting and tossing and yelling for more Diet Pepsis. I drank several Diet Pepsis. I enjoy the Diet Pepsis...... Anyway, I digress. It was a long day. And I had a lot of time to think. So I thought I'd share some of those thoughts, because there is a possibility that they are deep or poignant or some such thing. Doubtful, but hope springs eternal.
1) If there is such a thing as a show called "Pre-Teen Hoarders," or if anyone wants to develop one, give me a call. I've got your pilot episode living in my house.
2) My daughter is very creative. I mean, I've known this, but her belongings really tell the tale. For one thing, her artwork is EVERYWHERE. Drawings, paintings, sketches, craft projects....I established a drawer just to hold such items. Because they were literally strewn all over her room. Being prolific AND lazy is a bad combination. Another thing I've noticed about Zoe is that she repurposes almost all of her toys. A crossbar from a doll swing becomes a fishing pole. Plastic dishes and an upside-down tote become an air hockey table. This used to drive me NUTS. Especially when her modifications required scotch-taping stuff to other stuff. (Because STICKY.) But nowadays, I'm pretty chill with Zoe's creations. It shows she thinks outside the box. Which is good because the box is crammed full of her crap....
3) Apparently, my sideways parenting skillz have not warped my daughter too badly. I have had the potential to screw her up royally, but she seems to be pretty level-headed. This, after SO many mistakes I have made on her behalf. When her older brother Andrew decided to be born with a penis (you had ONE job, Andrew!) I had pretty much given up on having a daughter. After all, we had the two children we'd planned on, and neither of them had the forethought to be born with a vagina. So, I resigned myself to a life of Bob The Builder and Hot Wheels. That's cool. Nothing wrong with boys. Boys are great. Yup. LOVE my boys.
But of course life has a way of bitch-slapping you while laughing at your presumption that YOU get to make the plans. And along came Zoe. Suddenly, I had the daughter I never thought I'd have. And even though I do not agree with categorizing kids by gender and I specifically don't agree with "girl colors" and "girl toys".....somehow Zoe ended up with a metric shit ton of pink stuff - dolls, stuffed animals, tea sets, dress up shoes, tiaras. Oh, speaking of tiaras, my daughter also came to possess a LOT of princess stuff....mostly Disney princess stuff. Oh, the sparkly fluff! Oh, the glittery glamour!! And let me tell you, these ladies are on EVERYTHING - posters, coloring books, furniture, clothing, dishes, and toys, toys, toys.
Which brings me to another parenting mistake I made - living vicariously through my daughter. You see, when I was a young lass, I had a handful of 11.5" fashion dolls...but no actual Barbies. My cousin LaDawna had Barbies. My best friend Laurrie had Barbies. I had no Barbies. So guess what I started buying for Zoe the minute she was old enough to focus her little eyes? Yup. She got them for birthdays and Christmas and Easter and sometimes just because. By the time I stopped to think about what I was doing, she had well over a dozen. This made me feel guilty. So then I started buying her the Disney Princess dolls. Technically, they are not Barbies. Shut up.
ANYWAY, the moral of the story is, that despite the fact I surrounded my young, impressionable daughter with so much horrible stereotypical "girly girl" imagery, Zoe is pretty well balanced. She has her own sense of style (think "Blossom" meets Molly Ringwald's character from "Pretty in Pink"), she knows that girls have power and brains and are NOT required to wear mini skirts while they walk their dogs, and she can hold her own against her brothers in a foot race or a game of "Mario Kart." Somehow, even though I did everything wrong, she is not a pampered princess with poor body image. Go figure.
4) My little girl is growing up. Today, while I was putting My Little Ponies in one pile and Barbie shoes in another, I realized that it won't be long before these things are set aside for less childish pursuits. She will be ten in September, and while we have always tried to keep our kids kids for as long as they will stay that way, she can't be our "Little One" forever. How long until she doesn't want to play with toys or finger paint or watch "My Little Pony" DVDs over and over until the theme song makes me want to kill somebody Manchurian Candidate-style? How long until she tells me that her posters need to come down, her toys need to be packed away, her Disney CDs need to be replaced with music sung by people with piercings and questionable hygiene? Maybe it's because she's our youngest, or maybe it's because she's our only girl, or MAYBE it's because life is cruel and evil and a cold-hearted bitch, but it just seems like it's happening too fast. I kept running into clothes that she has outgrown or toys that she hasn't played with in years and when did all of this happen? What the hell?? Life, you suck.
5) There really is no five. I just had to quit focusing on the sad stuff.
So Zoe's room is livable once again, although it really needs a good PURGING, of closets and storage totes and everything. This will be a good project for the summer. Then we can have a yard sale and I can watch other people's children plunk down tooth-fairy quarters so they can walk away owning pieces of my children's childhood. Which is totally fine. Because I can take those quarters to the liquor store. And that, my friends, is called "parenting."
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