My Little Girl

On June 7th, the sweet little bundle of pink I cuddled in my arms just yesterday will be promoted to Middle School. I've been fully aware and more than cognizant that she'd be leaving sixth grade and elementary school this year for seventh grade and middle school in the fall. I've been so consumed lamenting the poor quality of the only middle school in our district, the only one in our side of the whole danged town, that I was kinda gobsmacked when her teacher sent home a letter to parents asking that their graduating sons wear a suit and tie and that their graduating daughters wear a bright colorful dress with low heeled pumps for the grand occasion. And that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks...her very first promotion, commencement or graduation...depending on how to want to word it, was upon us. Oh. My. Goodness.

And I've vacillated between despair and outright denial ever since. We went shopping for her graduation dress this past weekend, just me and her. Every single dress I loved on her, she hated. Hated. Including the two tailored florals that gave me a glimpse of the shape her body will eventually take. I'm glad she hated those. Well, one of them anyway. The one I really loved was suitably little girl enough to have been quite tastefully worn to a birthday party or to a formal occasion. And it was on sale. But she hated it. After I dismissed every single dress in the juniors department because they lacked any sort of shoulder beyond a spaghetti strap and quite often not even those, and her staunch refusal to wear anything from the children's department, a wonderful sales lady from Formal Wear trekked back and forth between our dressing room in juniors, bringing every bright colorful dress she could locate - from the children's department. She is growing up, and after The Girlie found something to hate about every single dress, she finally consented to a sweet little pink number if it could be found in any other color except pink. It couldn't. Not in her size. Just when the sales lady and I were too sadly beaten down to do more than whimper, she brought in a gem. "I know it's not bright and colorful, but..." The Girlie's eyes lit up. She tried it on. She loved it. They had her size. It was on sale. We were sold. It's white linen with flowers embroidered in fine black thread all over the skirt, ruffle and bodice. There's a wide black and white polk-a-dot sash. It's dignified, but still a bit of little girl.

Next up were shoes. The Girlie knows how to shop. She went right for the clearance rack, found a pair she loved and we sent the sales lady off in search. She brought back another pair, too, "Because they are also on clearance." The Girlie changed her mind and wanted the new selection. The shoes she originally picked out were $17.50. After finding three left shoes in her size of the new selection and waiting patiently for nearly an hour to locate one right shoe, I nearly coughed up a kidney when the sales lady says "Your total comes to $60.45." I thought they were on clearance, I say. "Oh they are! They're Anne Klein. They were originally $155.00, so you have a $170.00 worth of shoe after tax." She was so jubilant about it. I was not. They were simple black flats with a tiny heel and a decorative perforation in the black vinyl. They aren't even leather. But after she had searched for almost an hour to find the matching shoe, I paid out my next weeks' lunch money and we left with the shoes. I did have to put my foot down to the $48.00-on-sale necklace at the same store. It was composed of three black chains with black beads and huge ugly silver Gothic crosses. She was not pleased with me. "Mom. I thought you were going to let me pick my stuff out." So I replied that she'd hated everything I tried to put on her and that she had picked out her own dress, as well as the shoes that were over sixty bucks, and that - oh yeah - I just got fired on Thursday afternoon, so being $120.00 into this little excursion so far, I wasn't about to buy a necklace that cost nearly as much as the dress and shoes! "Fine" she mutters. The pensive pre-teen years are treacherous territory. This conversation took place while we waited for well over 15 minutes to tell a store manager about the excellent service we'd gotten from the gals in Ladies Formal Wear and shoes. She offered me a 10% discount for next time. I declined politely, saying we were not often in the mall. The truth is, their nylons are $22.50. For one pair. One.

Next up, since we were in the mall, we hit Claire's for a headband and a necklace. She chose a skinny black band with a frilly black bow on the side. Back to my little girl. I picked out a funky little necklace made of three black chains with black beads and pretty, feminine crosses and while she didn't immediately dismiss it, she didn't gush over it either. She asked "Can we hang on to that and keep it in mind?" What I said was Yes, of course honey. What I was thinking was more like You ungrateful little snot! If you'd seen it first you'd be trying to talk me into buying this for you! So I carried it around the store and when we got to the register with her headband she turned to me and asked "Can we please get the necklace too, Mom?" We purchased both for a little over seventeen bucks, but we're buying the danged nylons at Wal-mart. I'm not paying $22.50 for a pair of nylons, even if they will be her first ones.

As for getting fired, it was more like "This just isn't working out. You're not happy here and we both know you aren't. It's just not a good fit. Thank you though!" And I got a new job the very next day! So there!