Love What You Love
Growing up and not giving up
My nearly nine year old daughter has reached an age where she has started to feel self-conscious if she wants to indulge in anything she deems too childish. Sigh.
Two examples: We went to the groundbreaking for our updated neighborhood library building, and she got her face painted like a tiger. Then later she got to ask a balloon artist what she’d like, and she asked for a tiger. The tiger was so real and lovely, as balloon artistry goes. H held the tiger close and with reverence, glanced furtively around and ducked away from our crowd of kids. When she thought she was alone, under the shade of a large tree, she smiled a smile of deep satisfaction— the smile of someone whose face is painted like a tiger and had the INCREDIBLE fortune of also having a balloon tiger. It broke my heart to see her joy but know she felt uncomfortable with others seeing it. I’ll remember the pleasure on her orange and striped feline face for the rest of my life.
Example two: On Saturday, she was playing with a babydoll, Violet, and, unbeknownst to me, had pledged to herself that she would tend Violet all day as a real mother would. I needed to get big locally grown summer tomatoes, as I have pledged to myself to eat tomato sandwiches as much as I can while supplies last. H was unusually mad about going to the Farmer’s Market, and finally it came out that it was because she didn’t want to leave her baby at home and would feel stupid or embarrassed carrying her doll with her in public and treating it as a real baby. She was sad that she couldn’t bring herself to indulge in her pretend; she feared she was touching the edge of her childhood. Cue more heartbreak in my body.
On the drive to the market, I told Harriet being a kid is a precious time in life and for her to find joy where she sees it, to cling to it and do as she delights. I told her allowing herself to play, allowing herself her particular joys, is a gift grownups too often tend to shed as they age. But I also told her I think she may be able to preserve this skill of hers. I still find myself playing often. Doing things that may be too big, too silly, or too ridiculous and indulgent.
Paint a house sea foam green? Yes.
Take adult swim lessons (surrounded by children taking their lessons) to perfect my technique? Yes.
Wear and give crowns of flowers. Yes.
Wear pigtails because I like them? Yes.
Hug a tree? Obviously.
Eat excessive amounts of tomato sandwiches? YES!
What is it that Mary Oliver says? “Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”
A few days later she spent time with a friend who still loves dolls, and H brought her doll to play at that friend’s home. They even brought their dolls in swimsuits to the pool! They let the bright, gracious sun that shines on us all shamelessly illuminate their play, and I thanked God for another day she could keep her heart on her sleeve.
How do you play?
I just love your sense of life and love and H is a lucky girl to have you for a mom!