mommy

In The Mirror

I lay out her new barrettes for her to pick from this morning.

“These ones mommy.  They match my shirt.”

I pick up the ones with pink polka-dots and clip them into her hair.  First one side, then the other, so her sides are pulled back and won’t fall into her face while she’s playing.  She hate’s having hair in her face.  But at least we’ve graduated from wearing hats all the time to putting barrettes in.

I adjust the one on the left so it’s more secure, and then look at her reflection in the mirror.

My heart skips a beat and I can feel the tears pricking my eyes.  She’s growing up so fast.  No longer a baby.  And hardly looking like a toddler.

She’s definitely a little girl now.  And all girl.  Pinks and purples.  Dresses are her favorite.  And having clothes that match are important.  Very important in her world.

Her blond hair and blue eyes tell me we’ll be in trouble when she’s older.  She has the same deep blue eyes as me.  People are always surprised when they meet us in person.  No, I don’t photoshop our eyes to be blue.  They simply are.

She meets my gaze in the mirror and gives me a big smile.

“You happy Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie, Mommy’s very happy,”  I lie.

I can see the independence in her eyes.  I recognize it.  It is my independence.  And I know trying to keep her safe in a bubble with just make her fight harder to get out.

At three, I have a glimpse of the girl and woman my daughter will become, as I look back at my own reflection.

VistaSept2010 In The Mirror

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