When she was very young, just like most little bitty girls, Baby Girl was very into pink and purple and turquoise, unicorns and everything magical. When we did her room upgrade from nursery to toddler and then to “big girl” we focused on everything unicorn. If it had a magical horn it was in. Bedspread, comforter, curtains, sheets and pillows – it didn’t stop. Books and stuffed animals never-ending unicorns, etc. She loved to wear dresses, the flowier the better. At two she had a pair of golden sparkly flats she wouldn’t take off, even for sleeping. At four it was a My Little Ponies and mermaids obsession. At five we had a unicorn birthday party.
Along the way from seven to eight years old things started to change. Slowly at first and then like a steamroller. Everything pink and girly was out. No more dresses, no more fairies and narwhals and shiny sparkling shoes. It started with choosing animals like cheetahs to be her favorite. So now everything cheetah pattern was in. No big deal, I thought, lots of little girls lose interest in unicorns. Cheetahs are cool.
Then Grandpa died. And Baby Girl was there. And while it didn’t seem to affect her too much, things started to spiral quietly out of control. All of a sudden she was getting in trouble at school. Refusing to wear anything but comfortable sweatpants and tee shirts and tennis shoes (or her paddock boots), dresses mostly became a thing of the past. They’ll make fun of me, she said. No one likes me, she cried. They’re all mean to me, she lamented.
This was second grade. Things were on a downhill slide. The years from seven to nine were rough. Her Beloved Granny died at age 8, her Poppy at age 9 and her first pony Corkie at age 10. The kid has had a rough few years.
At eight or nine, we changed her room again, now it’s Wolves everywhere and dark shades of blue and gray. At eight she became fascinated with wolves and big dogs. Wolves howling at the moon became a symbol of who she was and how she felt.
Why? Safety. Ferocious, feisty and protective. Unsurprisingly, German Shepherds became her new favorite type of dog. Her favorite colors were still dark blues and grays, with a few other bold colors thrown in. Nothing pink. Nothing too soft or forgiving. Baby Girl’s mood was often dismal at best, but she could also be silly and rambunctious and hard to reason with.
One of her best qualities, however, is her ability to adapt and overcome, her way of letting things go and moving on. Not holding a grudge. And while she would NEVER talk much about her losses, she would sometimes break down late at night, past her bedtime, and cry with me. I usually ended up crying, too, to see her in so much pain.
Kids are resilient they say. I have often thought she is more adaptive than I am. Neither of us had any choice in what happened to us. But she found her way to cope. From wolves and big dogs at eight and nine to horses and regular dogs at age 10, she has finally turned to things like hummingbirds and highland cows at age 11. I am ELATED for the shift. Not that I don’t like wolves, but it highlights her slow morph into someone new. Someone who can be soft again. Someone who can dream and dance and color a new page. Colors and clothes choices symbolize so much of who we are and how we want the world to see us.
We are going on a cruise next week. She has asked for plenty of dresses to wear. She’s starting to care about her hair and make up (!) which I don’t discourage, even though her sweet angel face definitely doesn’t need any make up, and Daddy certainly doesn’t like it. I know it represents a new awareness of herself, and a new confidence that was missing for a long time. She’s stretching the boundaries of who she is, and who she wants to be. Removing her from public school and entering a homeschool co-op made a tremendous difference to her emotional state. She feels safer now, and more accepted.
Her room is still dark navy and gray. But the wolves are gone from the walls. She is choosing to display her favorite horse show ribbons and her new artwork instead. Her new playhouse that was just built is decorated in soft cream and pink. Pink has found a new acceptance in her mind, one that I am fully embracing.
Friday was my birthday and we wanted to get our nails done. What color I ask? Pink she says, with a bow on one finger. I say yes, let’s both do pink.
And so we do.
