No, Momma, No

I had a plan for your Easter outfit. It was cute, trendy, and well put together. It was simple and tasteful and the little shoes I had in mind were perfect for Spring and would’ve been great in all the photos. I had the outfit laid out for about a week. I just knew it would make a splash in a great way. Then Easter morning came and you had other ideas. Your little heart was set on wearing your new tutu and your hot pink cowgirl boots. Of course these are adorable, but totally not what I had in mind. You were adamant. I kept pushing. I tried to wrestle the tutu off of you, and you cried. I tried to put the “right” shoes on you and you screamed. You weren’t cooperating. We were going to spend the day with family, and everyone was going to see you in the outfit I wanted you to wear. You and I went back and forth, both frustrated, both raising our voices as we wrestled around on the living room floor. And then, mid wrestle, you took my face in your little hands, looked me right in the eyes, and cried, “No, Momma, no!” Tears were running down your little cheeks. And it hit me. I wasn’t listening to you. You were trying to tell me, in the only ways you knew how, that you had made a decision for yourself and you were sticking to it. So we both took a few breaths, and then I dropped the whole thing. I picked you up, got up off the floor, and we put your cowgirl boots on. And your Elsa shirt. And we left the house. And I stopped worrying about what anyone else would think. And I started to swell with pride because my girl, my big girl, had picked out her own clothes. She had made a series of decisions all by herself. She was becoming an individual. I have a feeling we are going to have lots of these “go ’rounds” as mother and daughter, and I’m slowly going to learn to pick my battles. I just wanted to tell you that I promise to always try to hear you out. I promise to be a better listener, and to consider your side of things. Because I love you. I love your intelligence, your spunk, your persistence, and your humor. And I will learn to love your unique sense of style.

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2 thoughts on “No, Momma, No”

  1. You’re such a good mom! This is a very cute story. One of many like this I am afraid. Picking your battles is a very hard thing to do when everything is a teaching moment for both of you. I have a feeling you’ll be great at it though.

    Liked by 1 person

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