If it’s fluffy, shiny or covered in rhinestones my girls are drawn to it like moths to a flame. It would seem that, while I have poured all of my fashion expertise into their young lives since the day they were born, they have developed their own sense of style. A sense of style quite contrary to mine - one that prefers a little bling, bling and wild colors to that of warm hues, traditional dresses and coordinating outfit ensembles (with matching hair pieces, I might add). Try as I might to convince and persuade them to tone down their spicy taste in couture, it is to no avail. In their small world of pink glitter nail polish and cherry lip smacker Chap Stick, black velvet totally compliments hot pink, sequins and faux fur. My girls put the “girl” in girlie.
After all these years – all six-and-a-half of them - you would think that I would have learned the valuable lesson of which battles are worth fighting and of which ones to let go. Usually I’m pretty good at keeping this at the forefront of my mind. However, the other morning as we were preparing to leave the house for church, my obsessive compulsive controlling nature kicked in to high gear, and I fought for a good thirty minutes with Brooklyn over which coat she was going to wear. I could have slapped myself silly for blowing such a minor difference of opinion into a full-blown war over appropriate outerwear. When the grown up rational side of me finally came to, and realized how foolish I was behaving (it’s not like Brooklyn was resisting wearing a coat at all…she just wanted to wear her fluffy, white coat, not her navy, tailored wool coat that I just happen to prefer), I acquiesced and we all left for church smiling…and warm. Just another example of how far I have to go in this thing called motherhood.
To my credit, I’ve come a long way baby! Two years ago, when Sydney was displaying her strong tendencies for wild and crazy fashion, I struggled to relinquish the tight fisted hold I had on her wardrobe. Over my dead body would she be permitted to wear red tights with her pastel pink skirt and coral colored track-jacket. These days, I have learned to simply look the other way when it’s time to lay out their clothes for the morning. Sometimes I cringe, and have to fight hard, the urge to intervene. Other times I find myself pleasantly surprised and impressed by some of their outfit choices. And I am always there to lend a helping hand or suggestion, but only when asked.
What I’ve been learning is just how valuable it is to let go of the little things and allow my kids to develop their own sense of self. There are boundaries and limits in our home that pertain to the rules of the house, and those are non-negotiable. However, when it comes to clothes, as long as it’s modest and tasteful, I let them have the control. Let them figure out how to put it all together. Let them experience a safe kind of independence and autonomy through dressing themselves.
I’m still working on this, as noted in the earlier part of this post. The control freak in me still pops up every now and then, and I have to smack her back down with a good dose of “does it really matter?” Does my daughter’s outfit, or coat, have anything to do with her character development or a core family value? When the answer is “no” then I have to let it go.
And slowly, but surely, I’m making progress…and so are they.