When Not to be an Influence

This is from August. I pushed it back and forgot all about it. Reading it almost 7months into the school year makes it even more powerful for me to read. The girl uses the back pack she chose. She uses it every single day. But, she also can’t take her water bottle to school because this back pack ‘doesn’t have side pockets.’

My girl  little lady decided she wanted to clean out her room and sell some of her toys she no longer plays with.  She came out pretty good making a little cash and organizing her room at the same time. . With her money she said she was going to buy something for school.

The four kids and I took a shopping trip to a couple of stores getting a few back to school items like shoes and some clothes. That’s when she decided she knew what she wanted to use her money to buy; a new back pack.

As a mom, I really try not to push my own opinions and fashion style on my kids. I’ve tried to hide my expression when a kid comes down stairs wearing the same shirt he’s worn already twice that week, or the kid who wears a hoodie sweatshirt every day like it’s a jacket. I try not to push the agenda of style and fashion because I know what I like may not be their own. I’m a total neutral color, soft grays and shades of brown kind of girl. My favorite color is maroon/ purple. Somehow I’ve managed to persuade Cora that it’s also her favorite. When I clothes shop for my kids I catch myself buying shades of grays like I would myself and even buying brands I personally like. It’s hard not to just naturally do this even when I’m wanting them to choose their own style.
Bright, obnoxious colors are soooooo not me. I just mean bright red, pink, yellow, not even the loud patterns.... those are super out of the question. Give. Me. All. The. Solids. So when my girl immediately grabbed the all-sequin-completely-covered-in-sequins backpack I immediately cringed and said “No, too obnoxious.”  Like I really said it out loud. I heard myself before I thought about even saying it. The words just rolled out. Do I think all the sequins are a little much? Yeah. Is it a super busy loud and colorful backpack? Yeah it is. I would never buy one for myself.
Dear Wendy’s head, that is your own little opinion which is not fact nor public majority rule. People like loud and busy and super-sequiny. It’s not obnoxious or scary and actually a popular style. Your daughter likes it. BACK OFF.
 I said all this in my head. Thinking it but not saying it.  She grabbed for another backpack covered in mermaids with the outside zipper pocket covered in what looked to be scales like, well, a fish. Again this opinionated voice came out of my mouth, “no way, too bright.”  By this time her three brothers were following along with my influence and also said “too obnoxious.” They started pointing at a blue jean color backpack, a solid light purple one and even one with a cool cover flap that was ‘different’ and ‘cool.’ They had caught on and jumped on the bandwagon of their mother’s fear of bright and attention-getting accessories. We had also been at this store a couple hours and everyone’s patience was thinning quickly. “Just pick one, Cora” one of her brothers said as she stared up at all the options of backpacks hanging above her. “Just not that one or that one,” I said pointing to the only two she had chosen. I showed her the one I liked the most, deep purple and pink flowered design, safe and soft hues, not too crazy or bright.
4-5 more minutes past and the brothers left for the checkout counters telling their sister to hurry. She was stressed and tired, undecided on which of the backpacks she didn’t want would she need to choose. Then she grabbed the one I liked and she said “let’s just go.”

She and I started for the front where the brothers were waiting. She was walking slow and had a sad look on her face. I remembered her talking about using her money to buy her backpack. The thought crossed my mind of the possibility FACT that I had pushed my opinion on her and influenced her decision on what back pack she would use for second grade. EVERY DAY my daughter would take this bag to her second grade class, filling it with her pencils and other supplies, notebooks and drawings, bring them home, throw this bag over her shoulder hundreds of times this year. This bag that she didn’t even like. Her mom liked it. It was a soft color, not ‘obnoxious.’  She’s in the SECOND GRADE, Wendy. Let her buy the loudest, busiest, unicorn/ mermaid covered backpack she wants to. I stopped walking, grabbed her by her shoulders, looked right in her eyes and told her she can go back and get whatever back pack she wanted. Just because her momma wouldn’t pick it out doesn’t mean she can’t. If she likes the mermaids or all the sequins then she can go get it and use it every day. And I told her she could save her money for something else. Momma would buy her the backpack SHE loves. First she started to cry. Her eyes watered and she told me it was fine. I corrected her and told her I meant it and to go get the one she really wanted. She wiped her tears and nodded.  She ran back and grabbed the semi-busy, yet the ‘perfect’ second grade back pack with the mermaids and fish scales for the outer zipper. She had a huge smile when she came back to me. As we started walking she mentioned the brothers will say something about her getting this bag. I told her not to worry about what they think. (When it comes to backpack colors). She was right.  They all three saw the bag, looked at me, rolled their eyes, said something about ‘Cora getting her way’ and then we checked out and left. I felt a weight lifted from my momma shoulders and my little girl was an extra back pack more excited to start school.

I look at each passing school year as such a momentous occasion. I’ve never been sad about older grades and growing kids. I’m equally excited for them. I love their anxious giddiness the days leading up to the first day. My girl is going to be all smiles with her mermaid, scaly back pack stepping into her classroom next week and I couldn’t be happier.

This morning at church, Cora sold her last little toy and was holding the $5 bill in her hand when it was time to pass the offering plate. I knew she would do it before she did it, and as I watched her proudly place her own money in the plate passing in front of her, she and I just smiled at each other. I know I’m raising a compassionate and independent daughter who is not like her momma but is an individual all her own. She knows her momma lets her make her own choices and she’s growing up into a big kid who gets to sell her own toys and pick out her own back pack.
 Always learning and growing with this momma gig!