I'm Glad She Doesn't Care
All my life I have cared.
About what others think.
But not so much my girl.
Recently, we were getting ready to go to a mother-daughter tea party. It was for the launch of a local program she will be participating in the next 2 months. A very “girlie” program.
Once upon a time, my girl was the girliest of all girls. But not now. Well, at least not like she used to be.
She doesn’t care for dresses, but she is obsessed with her hair. She loves to wear accessories, but won’t wear them with a dress. She’d rather play hard than play safe. But she wants her hair in place.
I pulled out one of her very few dresses to wear to the tea party. She begged, “Can I PLEASE wear pants under it?”
Uh…. no. This was not THAT kind-of dress. At. All.
“Can I AT LEAST wear leggings?”
“Can I wear my black pants and not the dress? I have a fancy shirt…”
Read: Hardly worn pedal pushers.
I looked at my daughter… awkwardly sitting at the top of the stairs. Her chin resting on the heels of her hands. Clearly unhappy. Clearly uncomfortable in her fancy, flowy dress.
I’ll admit, the dress wasn’t “her”.
I said, “Olivia. This is a very dressy party. It is a TEA party. You would be the ONLY one NOT wearing a dress.”
To which she stated,
I don’t care.
She didn’t speak those words in that “teenager tone”. No eyes rolled. She stated fact.
It didn’t matter to her what others wore.
And as I look at her heart, this is who she is. Independent. Capable. Unmoved when she feels moved.
And when I read post like this one, I find great pride in the fact that my daughter doesn’t care… Because I know that when she DOES care… she won’t be swayed from her conviction.
That’s MY girl. I want to be like her when I grow up.
Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
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