She threw, climbed and kicked. She was active and daring. Three years younger than her brother, she was first to conquer diving and master two-wheeled bikes. She rocked roller-blades with ease. She even liked to ice skate. Competitively, she played softball, volleyball, basketball and soccer. Oh boy, what a girl.
The girl lived in addidas athletic shoes and cleats. She sported many brands of sweat pants, shirts and bands. There were balls, shin guards and uniforms to buy. There were games on many days and in many conditions. Soccer goes in all but lightening and hail. There was car-pooling, orange slices and giggles. Oh boy, what a girl.
Stop the presses. YL buys (or asks me to buy) fashion mags, gets manicures and pedicures. She's asked me to buy hair, for her micros (braids.) She likes, well loves, shopping. She always has really, but now instead of all things athletic, she's looking for big shades, hats, make-up, skirts and heels. She still buys T-shirts, jerseys and caps, but she's gotten all color and team coordinated on me. Oh boy, what a girl.
We spend a lot of time together; my girl and me. I would go so far to say that we are friends, the best of friends. I am sometimes surprised by how much fun we have together. I mean, I don't particularly like shopping. I don't generally pay people to do my nails, hands or feet. I have never bought a fashion mag, for myself. I would never, ever buy hair for anyone to weave into my head.
She's become a woman, different from me, and that's OK.
YL thinks we should go to a spa. "Mom, you should try it. Facials and pedicures are fun." I tell her I'd feel weird about strangers rubbing, stroking and scraping on me. Besides, why would I spend money for a pedicure, I don't even wear sandals. "Oh Mom, you always think about money." Sweetie, someone has to. Yl follows with how it makes you feel like royalty.
Oh boy, what a girl!