Sunday, February 10, 2008

I'm that same little girl. Just in bigger shoes.

Have you noticed how cyclical life is? It's like, no matter what age we are, and regardless of whether we've reached our peak of maturity, life continues to hand us the same scenes over and over, just with a different backdrop.

There are the moments of accomplishment. Whether it's the second grade spelling bee or a promotion at work, it's thrilling to have an atta' girl and a pat on the back.

There are moments of elation. Like when my Dad brought home our first puppy, Taffy's Royal Sundae Delight, or the moment we found out that ChellBell would be joining our family. (First of all, writing that makes me realize how absolutely ghastly that dog's name was, as if she was some kind of fancy show dog, which was not the case at all for that stinky dog who lived in our backyard and barked a lot. And even worse that I just totally compared getting that dog to my only offspring being born? Perhaps I should consult a paid professional for this???)

There are moments of embarrassment (this might be one of those).

And moments of being overwhelmed.

And moments of stress.

And moments of self-discovery.

And moments of surprise.

There are moments of insecurity. Like the moment when your best friend became BFFs with someone else, and life all of a sudden came to an end and we were better off just hiding in our room because there was no reason to ever come out again. And as grown-ups, we're not immune. We still get hurt and betrayed, and all of a sudden we become that fourth grade girl again, bawling our eyes out in a stall of the school bathroom.

I swear that little girl is still hiding somewhere inside me.

There are places that make her peek out and come to life easier than others. Does DisneyWorld come to mind? I deny my grown-up-ness at Disney. When I turn the corner onto Main Street and see Cinderella's Castle, my brain completely disconnects from my 30ish-soon-to-be-40ish body and turns back into a gangly, freckle face 10 year old.

A little closer to home, the American Girl Store is another place that makes my imagination go wild, and I become a child again. It's all I can do not to squeal at the dolls and outfits and beds and hairbrushes. Most Moms are slowly walking around carrying mounds of boxes, practicing how they are going to explain the rather large price tag to their husband (who is sitting outside on the "guy bench" with store-tiredness-syndrome rolling his eyes at the other guys and complaining about all the estrogen and estrogen-to-be in the store).

So Saturday night ChellBell and I went on a GNO to the American Girl Store. Picture the two of us running from doll to doll figuring out which outfits we don't have and which dolls go together and commenting on Elizabeth having her ears pierced and how cute Kit's hair is and how we really should get the outfit with the ukelele and grass skirt. Like two little six year old girls. Giggling and having the time of our lives.

I have to admit, it's nice to have an excuse to run around and be a little girl again.

But as I sit here at my laptop, thinking somewhat mature thoughts and looking at my sweet husband, I have to admit that it's also nice to become a big girl again.

Grown-up-ness is nice that way.

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