The tears were flowing freely at our house Friday evening. I decided to take, whoever showed an interest in tagging along, to our high school football game. The weather was perfect, it was our last home game and well, I just needed to get out of the house. Turns out our four-year-old daughter and her 12-year-old brother wanted to go. Dad and teenage boy (who actually goes to the high school) decided to stay home and bond over some music and snacks.
The trauma began over a wardrobe struggle. My daughter wanted to wear the Belle dress she had shopped in all day, along with the purple fairy wings we scored at the after-Halloween sale at Target. I picked out a cheerleader dress (handed down from a friend) with a turtleneck and tights. Very fitting for a football game, I thought, even if I do have an aversion to teenage girls who jump around in short dresses in front of God and everyone. I tried to reason with her. Not only was her Belle dress short sleeved, I could envision being jabbed by the fairy wings every time she squirmed on my lap.
I took her aside and calmly said, “It’s just not going to work. It’s too cool outside for your Belle dress and too crowded in the stadium to sit next to you with wings on.”
She took a deep breath, wiped a tear away, and said, “But I just want to look professional.”
I hear ya, sistah. Me too.
I struggle with trying to appear professional when I sit down at my computer to complete a story assignment and have to clear away Hotwheels, Polly Pockets, or decks of cards from the desk to reach the keyboard. Under my feet I kick away a soccer ball or someone’s discarded shoes. Then the phone rings and I reach in the drawer for a pen only to grab a broken crayon instead. Urrrghh! It’s really enough to make me cry. Or maybe I should just find a Belle dress and fairy wings in my size and then see if anyone will take me seriously.