Dressing Room Drama

My mission was to take her shopping and to buy her a sweet little church dress.  Visions of Lilly Pulitzer danced in my head and she tried desperately to co-operate  with my expectations.  I noticed her resolve quickly breaking down as dress after dress brought her nothing but despair.  We left in search of a much-needed ice cream cone.

Relieved to be the grandmother and not the mother, I resolved to salvage the experience. I hated to disappoint my daughter, but I knew that my granddaughter and I could find joy in something we both have less than average interest in doing, shopping for clothes.  I found out that all she really wanted was fun, funky play-clothes from a store called Justice.  We headed to the mall.

She picked out arm-loads of cut off shorts with studded pockets, glittery shirts, colorful tanks, pink baseball caps, and bangles.  The dressing room over-flowethed.  The one dress she did choose had an army camouflage print  (we put that back).  She was so happy with her purchases that she begged to wear one outfit out of the store.  I let her, of course.

Now I know that she still does not have a cute little church dress.  Her mom will have to use her wits do make that happen.  I want her to have the nice things that define a well-groomed little girl and I want her to keep her awesome self-image.  She lives in a world in which the style of one’s clothes can define who people think she is. It’s a tension that in time she will ultimately work at and resolve.  For now, she’s dazzlingly happy!

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My husband remarked that my granddaughter reminded him of somebody else he knows and I remembered a poem that I wrote 8 years ago.  The dressing room drama continues.

Burberry Scarf

I’d rather have a tattoo,

Then wear a Burberry scarf.

I’d rather drink a beer with my housekeeper,

Than sip wine with a fancy senator.

Once I thought I was special,

Really thought I’d make a difference.

Still my yearbook post beckons,

“When I finally get myself together

I’m gonna get down to that sunny, southern weather”

In the end, do we all 

Go back to where we started?

Perhaps.

In the mean time,

I will dine with senators

But, I won’t wear a Burberry scarf

 

This post is part of the Word Press Daily Prompt –http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/04/29/daily-prompt-dickinson/

What She wants for Christmas

Little girl on Santa's Knee

My daughter found this list to Santa in her little girl’s journal

Please bring:

An American Girl Ski Doll

Money for Children in Africa,

A diamond necklace for mommy

A running watch for Daddy

A heart locket collar for Charlie with a picture of me and Cole in it.

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SOME EXPLANATION NEEDED HERE

My granddaughter is the most amazing, caring, loving little thing in the whole wide world! I mean – money for children in Africa?  (or she may be adding to her “nice” column)

My grandchildren’s dog Charlie now lives with a friend.  (sad but true, due to a recent move into a place that doesn’t allow pets)

My daughter should be ashamed of herself for reading her daughter’s diary and when confronted astutely replied,  ” Wow, I’m getting a diamond necklace for Christmas!”

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credit:  Dallas Nevins

It takes Fourteen

He was a little uneasy tonight.  Not scared really, because he is a big boy.  But his new bedroom IS on the other side of the house.  His mother prayed with him and then called me on the phone.  “What’s this about fourteen angels?”  she wanted to know.  I knew immediately that she was talking about the song I learned as a girl in church choir.  I sang it to my grandson a few times when he came to spend the night and it pleased me that he remembered.  It surprised me that my daughter did not.

“Evening Prayer, from the opera Hansel and Gretel.  Don’t you remember?” I chirped.  Then I got to thinking. Maybe I didn’t sing it to her when she was little.  The notes go pretty high and my girl was not one to grin and bear her mother’s vocal assaults on her little ears.  My grandson is more tolerant or else tone-deaf and I’m a bit braver in my old age caring less about a  missed note or two (or three).

I quickly rattled off the jobs of the various pairs of angels so that she could read them to her son.  Hopefully she appreciated the fact that I didn’t sing and he drifted safely off to sleep with the heavenly host watching over them both.

Evening Prayer from Hansel and Gretel – (click to listen)

When at night I go to sleep Fourteen angels watch do keep

Two my head are guarding

Two my feet are guiding

Two are on my right hand

Two are on my left hand

Two who warmly cover

Two who o’er me hover

Two to whom ’tis given To guide my steps to heaven