And the Drama Marches On.......

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I prayed and prayed for a daughter. All I could think about was pink. Pink bows. Pink dresses. And someday down the eternal road of motherhood, pink nail polish with matching lipstick. I am, after all, a girly girl of sorts. Thus, having no brothers or young male cousins in my midst, bearing a daughter was all I could possibly fathom.

Months later, as has always been common for me, I eventually got my wish. In June of 1999 a beautiful little girl named Hannah entered my world with a loud voice and an insatiable appetite. And my husband and I were blissfully happy.........

Ten years and one more daughter later, life at my house is a never ending saga. One day, it's a girl at school who looked at my child wrong. The next day, it's a fight on the playground over a very serious game of kickball. Whatever the problem, whomever the cause, my home has become a mental institution for the unlucky recipients of preteen female drama. And I'm starting to think I need a PhD. in psychology to deal with it all!

Last week, for example, a little thing called 'school spirit day' began a series of events that resulted in total and complete hysteria at my house. Some unknown, unsuspecting person at school decided that it would be fun to have a day at school called 'Twin Day.' It sounded, I must admit, quite clever and pretty cute. Each child was told to pick a friend to be their twin for a day. They were supposed to dress alike, and in doing so, show their school spirit. One of my daughters had been planning her twin outfit for days with another little girl in her class. She was happy and excited and ready to show her spirit!

For my other daughter, however, Twin Day was a bit more complicated. Unfortunately, her two closest friends don't go to her school. And the girls she liked in her class had already found their twins before my child even started looking for hers. My daughter even suggested to a few girls that she could be their third triplet, yet, her suggestion was rejected several times. This led to a very tearful conversation about the evils of cliques and popularity, with me continually giving reassurance that her life and her social status were honestly not in jeopardy.

Never in my life have I felt as much pain in my soul as I did during that heart wrenching discussion with my little girl. Not even when I faced, as most kids do at some point, rejection from several of my peers almost thirty years ago, did I feel as much despair as I did now, hearing the ache in my child's voice.

Someone once said that with motherhood comes the end of all restful days. And that person, whomever they were, couldn't have been more right. At almost forty years old, I couldn't care less what others think or say about me. Through hours and hours of self exploration and many years of therapy, I have developed a very secure sense of myself. I am confident and content in who I am and in what I believe. Yet, if anyone dares to even think one bad word about one of my daughters, they will have to deal with me, the enraged mama lion. I am my children's ultimate supporter and sole protector. And I have made it my life's work to keep them happy and safe.

Luckily, the whole 'Twin Day' delema had a somewhat happy ending, despite the tears and distress it had brought into my home. My daughter eventually found another little girl, from another class at school, who still needed a twin. They dressed alike on Twin Day, wearing matching green shirts and jeans. Unfortunately, because they were in two separate classes, no one actually noticed that they were each others twin. Still, my daughter was happy, and that's all that mattered.

Somewhere in all of this, there's got to be a moral. Many have said it's that I should have wished for sons. And, while it's true, I suppose, that sons do not bother themselves with the petty, meaningless day to day nonsense that girls envelop regularly, I wouldn't trade my daughters even if I had the chance. Because despite the whining and the crying and, yes, the drama that comes with having girls, I also get to experience the hugs, and the kisses, and yes, the pink accessories that are and always will be the essence of who I am and who I hope my children will someday become.

And so, my house is filled with lots of estrogen, turmoil and confusion on a regular basis. Yet, even as the drama marches on, I must admit, most of the time, I'm still blissfully happy.................