My original bloggy twin is Cheryl of Mommypants. I got to meet her last November during our family vacation to Cali and we are just…buds.
She is a writer’s writer, one of the head peeps of The Red Dress Club and an all-around fabulous blogger. If you have not read her stuff and you want to quit reading hacks like me…go directly to Cheryl. I asked her to post today because I’m headed off to Mom 2.0. Her topic? A tender moment with her daughter, who is an awful lot like my daughter, too.
Enjoy – and Cheryl, thank you for bringing your fantastic words to my little bloggy home.
Sage snuggles into me on the couch.
My daughter, at 5 1/2, is not always so soft; age and attitude making her very prickly at times. But this night, she wants to be close. I embrace the salty warmth of her.
We are watching Say Yes to the Dress, a reality show about women trying on wedding dresses at a well-known bridal salon in New York City.
“Someday I will go with you when you try on wedding dresses,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.
“You mean when I marry Daddy?” she asks.
“No, baby girl. Daddy is already married. To me.”
The bride-to-be tries on a ball gown, the bodice encrusted in crystals and bead work. It has a long train with more crystals and the light in the woman’s face shows this dress is The One. I ask Sage if she likes it. Maybe she could pick out one like that some day.
“I want to wear your dress, Mommy.”
This is where my thoughts race ahead at least (I hope) 20 years. I see my daughter as a woman, striding into the dress shop, independent and beautiful and sure of what she wants.
I imagine her disappearing under a cloud of silk organza, and in that moment, I know I will instead see a little girl with pigtails wiggling into a bright pink princess dress, lavender plastic heels with feathers on her pudgy feet.
She is the same and yet she is not the same at all.
“I’d love it if you wore my dress. But you only get one wedding, and I want you to have the exact dress you want. Besides, I think I’m just going to keep you here with me always.”
I squeeze her closer to me. Her head is on my chest. I am sure she can hear my heart beat. Or “beep,” as she says.
“But I want to have a baby,” she said.
I pause. Blink away tears.
Because it’s a thrill, isn’t it? When your child says she wants to have a baby. What greater compliment is there than your daughter essentially saying she wants to be like you?
She wants to be a Mommy.
I stroke her hair, my heart still full as we watch the stories unfolding in front of us. Her head droops; she has dozed off. Her small body is heavier in sleep.
And I whisper, “I’ll be there for you then, too.”