My Daughter

Can I tell you about this girl that rocks my world?

She is the child I never thought I'd really have. Even all those years I held her as my foster daughter, it was different, she was never fully mine. Mine in the sense that now days I catch myself thinking, no one will ever come back here to check up on her, she is just simply, fully, ours.

And yet she isn't. She will always have two names, no matter that I changed the one on her birth certificate. She will always identify herself with two different names. The day will arrive when she takes more than the casual notice that her hair and skin are radically different than mine. There will be a day that she will tower over us in height and it will suddenly be significant.

There will always be days and times in her life that she will wonder about the other mom, the "real" mom, the birth mom. I will give her all the answers I have and they will not be enough. Our shared life together, the everyday mom role I play will be alternately never enough and everything all at once.

Adoption was surreal. It still is. Even the moment that I realized what was in the envelope I just pulled from the mail box. Even when I tore it open and held the new birth certificate in my hand. It's still just plain weird. There is relief that it is over, but there lingers the real truth that this will never be over.

I'm surprised though, in a good way, about a subtle difference in our life now that she is "mine." I expected to see differences in our lives when we all shared a name, but they aren't popping up where I thought they would.

I have for so many years, even the years that I was her foster momma, identified as the momma of boys. Even though plenty of friends have let me know that I am in no uncertain terms a girly girl, I don't think I really lived it. At least not until now.

She is so girl I can hardly stand it. We now live for glitter and frills. Ruffles, lace and rhinestones. We need to do our hair. Accessories are a must and I am reminded if I don't follow through. Everyone knows all day long if I fail to put on jewelry. Lucky for me, I always were make up, so I don't have her hounding me for that one. Perfume happens, and lotion. Manicures and pedicures are at an all time high in my life, even if they are in crayola colors.

She has style. Style like none other, and sadly, I'm learning a lesson or two from the chick-let. There is something to be said for all those bright colors and patterns. They make everyone smile, even if it's a smile that says, wow, look at that spectacle or I could never do that. Well, why not?

Really, seriously, why not?

Why not have blue or purple or green nails?

Why not have amazing tights or super fun shirts?

Why not have your accessories in magical colors?

Or eye grabbing shoes?

As this life goes rushing bye, I can't possibly come up with a reason why not.

So shield your eyes as girl friend and I come around the corner, suppress those giggles if you can. Try not to smile over it all, but don't mind me, I'll be smiling and laughing and enjoying it all.