With just 15 minutes left before we need to leave for a birthday celebration, the morning has already been a whirlwind. My 5-year-old, Lily, woke up in a mood—complaining about the weather, the temperature of her toast, and my audacity to ask her to brush her teeth. At this point, my goal is simply to make it to the party without any further battles.
“Okay, sweetheart, it’s time to go,” I say, doing my best to stay calm. Rushing her is like tossing lighter fluid on an already smoldering fire.
I hear her racing up the stairs, and I think, “Phew, we might just pull this off!”
But as she comes down, I spot her outfit starting with her legs—bright red tights that we nabbed on super clearance at Target months ago for a mariachi costume that never materialized. They’re saggy, pilled, and totally not in season.
When she fully appears, I see she’s paired those tights with a shirt. I let out a sigh; it’s time for a little chat about tights not being leggings, especially since those red beauties are decidedly see-through.
She rolls her eyes and huffs but agrees to make a change. I’m hoping she swaps those tights for some actual leggings or chooses a dress that covers her knees.
She returns, but now she’s wearing a pair of black “monkey” shorts—essentially glorified bloomers. It’s a look that screams more of a 1969 Knicks player than a fashionable little girl.
I’m at a crossroads.
As a child, birthday parties were serious events requiring special outfits that conveyed importance. Growing up in the South during the ’70s, I felt the pressure to look pretty and dainty. I’ve carried a lot of baggage from those days—shame over my appearance that took years and therapy to untangle. I’m determined not to pass that on to Lily.
But as I look at her ensemble, I wonder where the balance lies between frilly dresses and her current getup.
Ultimately, I decide to let her wear it. I tell myself I’m saving her from potential years of therapy by allowing her to express herself freely. I even go so far as to convince myself that I’m nurturing her creativity, perhaps saving her from a dull office job in the future.
Yet, as we pull into the party, I find myself clutching my phone, tempted to text the birthday girl’s mom about Lily’s outfit choice. I’d love to send something cheeky like, “Please don’t judge me for her bargain basement hosiery!” But I hold back. I realize I need to be either all in or not at all. Sending messages fueled by my own shame isn’t what I want for her.
We arrive, and it’s time for her to step into the world. I look her in the eye and say, “Have fun, sweetheart. I love you.”
With that, she skips away, blissfully unaware of the outfit choices that might raise eyebrows. It strikes me that she walks through life unburdened by shame and societal expectations—a freedom I didn’t have at her age.
As she disappears into the party, I feel a weight lift; I’ve avoided imposing the old beliefs about how little girls should dress. If I can keep my opinions to myself, she gets to be truly free, and that seems a fair trade.
If you’re interested in more about self-expression and creativity, check out our other blog post on home insemination. For those looking to explore artificial insemination options, Make a Mom provides great resources. Additionally, for comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination, Mount Sinai is an excellent source.
Summary
In this piece, Jenna reflects on the challenges of letting her daughter choose her own outfits, grappling with societal pressures and personal insecurities from her childhood. Ultimately, she embraces her daughter’s freedom of expression, recognizing the importance of allowing her to be her authentic self.