Lessons from Unicorns

Over the last week or so, Lainey has started picking out her own clothes every morning. For the most part, I've been happy with her selections, but we hit a bump last Tuesday when Lainey enthusiastically pulled out her purple unicorn shirt. I. Can't. Stand. This. Shirt. From my grown-up eyes it looks cheap and garish with its swirling mane of hot pink, bright teal, and neon green. And there's glitter--so much glitter. But, she loves it. And because she loves it, I have not allowed it to mysteriously get destroyed in the wash. Yet, I still encourage her not to wear it every time she pulls it out. Tuesday was no exception. "Really? You want to wear that?" Without even looking at me, she said, "I'm wearing the shirt, Mom." I sighed. So, the shirt was happening. But, then she whips out a pair of red leggings to go with it. Oh, no, no, no. It's one thing to wear a heinous shirt, it's another thing to pair it with super tight clashing pants. I selected three pairs of neutral colored pants for her to choose from and tried to explain that the red ones didn't match. She was unmoved. "No, Mom. Those are boring! These are colorful!" Then she carefully spread the shirt and the leggings out on her bed and took a step back. With arms crossed she said, "Look, Mom. How does that not look cool?" I was getting ready to make one last plea, when she said, "This is soooo me!" And that shut me up. This was sooooo her. My colorful girl. So, instead I said, "You're right, Lainey. That is a really cool outfit!" And she beamed.

I thought about the exchange entire way to work. What if Lainey hadn't specifically mentioned that it was "so her"? She still would have been thinking it, right? And if I had continued to push for her to pick something else or had made more snotty comments, what would that say to her? And why did I care so much in the first place? I had to fess up with myself, I don't like her to  to wear the shirt, because I don't want people to think I like the shirt. Shame spiral!!!

It's hard sometimes to separate ourselves from our kids. Especially, when they are very young and we have so much power over their choices. It's natural to want our kids to be like us and share our interests and our sense of style. But the thing is, our kids aren't extensions of ourselves. They are their own beings with their own interests, likes, and dislikes. And the sooner we make peace with that, the happier and healthier our relationships will be. As tempting as it might be for me to shove Lainey in a tutu and take her to ballet (because that's what I did for 15 years), unless she's into it, it's a waste of every one's time. Or conversely, I can't force her to play every sport under the sun, just because I always wanted to be an athlete (but, had NO skills in that arena). It's not her job to live my unfulfilled dreams.

I also thought about it in a different way. There was a viral blog post about a dad who let his son wear a dress, which I mentioned in my post about Nick's love of dolls. I remember having several conversations about this and everyone, including myself, was so supportive and on-board with this parenting approach. And I truly believe that all those parents, including me, would 100% support their son wearing a dress. And yet...how many of those same people would have had my same reaction to their daughter wearing a tacky shirt. Hmmmm...I would challenge that in both cases, it has very little to do with the kid's choice; it's about how we look. We're "cool" parents in one case; we have bad taste in another. I'm not trying to diminish the awesomeness that most of us would be okay with our sons wearing dresses (yay, us!). But, if I'm going to claim I'm an accepting, supportive parent, I can't just cherry pick what I want to get behind. I have to embrace it all...including the glitter unicorns.

I know some of you are thinking I've gone totally off the tracks here. I mean it was just an outfit and there is a good chance Lainey thought nothing of my curled lip and heavy sights. But, as a parent, I want to constantly be thinking about how my words and reactions affect my kids.

And just for further proof that I should keep my comments on Lainey's clothing choices to myself, when we walked into daycare the first thing her bestie said was, "Lainey, I love your clothes. They're so cool!" So, clearly I don't know good style anyway.

"How does this not look cool?" But, seriously, red leggings with it?