Dear Miss Provo: I accidentally got your child

Lily has been begging me to enter her into a pageant. I am an English professor and didn't want to do it. I think there is some sort of law about that kind of thing.

But law or no law, I could not escape the simple fact: Lily's will is stronger than mine.

Lily's will is stronger than titanium. Stronger than reinforced concrete or even any exaggerated idea of the word "stubborn." Postmodernism, Feminism, cultural hierarchies of value: Lily's will surpasses them all. In a way, it's one of the things I admire about her. So much self possession in such a little body.

The pageant was this Saturday.

She won first place. And a bunch of other stuff. Three trophies, two sashes, a cover-shot, a bag of toys, and a queen's crown.

It was amazing, actually. She walked across the stage as if she'd been doing it for years. She waved and blew kisses and held her arms in a perfect oval the way they do on TLC's "Toddlers and Tiaras." She looked right at the judges and smiled, winking like a 25 year old Miss America contestant.

Lily is five and has never even been on stage before. Except maybe in a previous life. Which would explain a lot, actually.

The thing about giving in and the cognitive dissonance caused by my visceral sense of pride--I was so proud of her! and so amazed that such a thing came from me. But how?--well, the thing about it all is that you give in once and you think you're done with it.

And then your baby wins first place and is supposed to go on to finals.

Cognitive dissonance: a permanent condition tied to being Lily's mother? Probably.

Here she is on the program cover:
(Thanks to Barb for the award winning picture!)

Here's my creepy little doll being fashionable. Such a cutie.

Sometimes Having Psychic Children is Super Creepy.

Last night my kids were feeling pretty morbid. 

We were driving home from Auntie Barb's house and they kept obsessing about death and car accidents. Then Lily told me:

"You know what, Mommy?"

"What?" I said.

"I think you're going to get into a car accident tomorrow."

"Honey. That is highly unlikely. And not something you should worry about."

Lily's eyes filled with tears. "But Mommy. You've been in too many car accidents." (True enough.) "When you get in the car accident tomorrow, I think you'll die!"

"Lily. Really. I have no plans on dying. And I'm not getting in a car accident tomorrow."

Then Sam chimed in. "Yeah, Lily. Don't worry. When she gets in the car accident tomorrow, she won't die. She'll just mess up her pretty new car."

Lily started wailing. "But it's a brand new car! It's so pretty!"

Having an un-pretty car is apparently worse than death to Lily. But, yanno. She cares about fashion and stuff.

Well.

I guess you know how this story ends because my children already told you.

I got rear-ended on my way to school this morning. I didn't die (or even get hurt at all I think; I'll wait till tomorrow to tell you for sure).

But my pretty new car is not so pretty any more.

So I guess we should all mourn or something.

Lily, in a normal evening outfit

(Kick took the picture with her phone.  She said it was stuck in a "Retro Picture" form and she didn't know how to make it normal.  I kinda like it, though.)

We told her that in order to have hair like this in real life, she'd have to stop giving herself so many do-it-yourself-cuts.

Lily and her new wig:

I am either not cool or not a girl. Lily won't specify.

me: "Hey, you wrote you name on your arm."

Lily: [Holds up arm and examines it.] "It's not writing. It's a tattoo."

me: "You're going to grow up and get ten thousand tattoos, aren't you. There's nothing I'm going to be able to do to stop it."

Lily: "All cool girls get tattoos."

me: "But I don't have any tattoos."

Lily: [shrugs, sort of glares at me--Lily's default look when she's looking at me.] "Yes, because *COOL GIRLS* get tattoos."

me: "I see."

Lily: Dressed for Church

Lily squirted her own hair with conditioner, ran a brush through it till it was smooth, picked out her own bows and fastened them, got herself a dress and tights and was ready to go. I guess she figures that after four self-procured haircuts in the last two months, she can handle a little wardrobe management.

Lily Posing Like a California Girl

Evening Conversation

Lily: "So, um, what are we doing?"

Miss Provo: "We're going out to dinner."

Lily: [says nothing.]

Miss Provo: "Do you know *why* we're going out to dinner?"

Sam: "I know, I know. Because of Mommy's thing."

me: "That's *DR.* Mommy, remember?"

Sam: [grunt and/or breathed laugh. hard to specify.]

Lily: "So, when are you going to get your doctor outfit?"

me: "Huh, what?"

Lily: "You know. Like a coat or something?"

Miss Provo: "I think you're talking about medical doctors. Your Mom is a philosophy doctor." [insert long discussion about the various titling methods for advanced degrees.]

[awkward pause.]

Lily: "So, uh, what are we doing again?"

This Picture Sums Up Lily in a Nutshell:

the self-made pink hair highlights are my favorite.

Lily: On What Went Wrong

[It's night-time and it's raining. Raining HARD. Lily decides it's the perfect weather for a swim-suit. Without my knowing, she then goes outside in the dark, freezing, rain. I think she's watching TV in her room. Which is why it's confusing when I hear a baby crying from outside.]

Lily: [crying]

me: [confused]

Lily: [still crying]

me: [think maybe I should make sure it's not *my* baby crying] "Hey, Lily! Everything okay?"

Sam: "I'm OK Mom!"

me: [realize that I haven't heard from Lily] "Lily?"

Lily: [indecipherable babbling, definitely coming from far away.]

me: [get up, look around house for Lily. realize that she must be outside and go to the back door where I see a bikini-wearing spirit-like tiny white thing running through the yard toward me.]

Lily: [crying]

me: "Lily? Why were you outside in the rain? It's thirty degrees out there. And you're in a swimsuit."

Lily: [indecipherable babbling (Lily is actually quite a good talker; just not when she's crying). something about wanting to take a shower.]

me: "You wanted to take a shower?"

Lily: "Yes! and play in the playhouse."

me: "But it was too cold?"

Lily: "And dark! It was so, so, so dark! There was NOTHING THERE."

me: "And you didn't like the playhouse in the dark? Was it because you were lonely?"

Lily: "It was because I thought it would make me happy! and it DIDN'T!"

me: "Okay. Come cuddle with Mommy and get warm."

Lily: "Only if I can have a bottle."

In which I reluctantly allow my daughter to (grammatically) objectify herself.

Lily: [tug][tug] "What's with your shirt?"

me: "Huh?"

Lily: "It's *daddy's* shirt."

me: "Yeah, I stole it."

Lily: "Oh. Well, I'd like you to pick me up, Mommy."

me: "What did you say?"

Lily: "I said I. want. you. to. pick. me. up. So you can hold me and carry me to the car?"

me: [think: OMG, that is the first time in her entire life that I've heard her use the correct subject/object distribution in that phrase.][start to get weepy because I liked the old way.][and because it means she's growing up.][which means I'm getting old.]

Lily: "Well?"

me: [refrain from asking her to re-state it as, 'Mommy, I want to hold you' or 'Mommy I want to pick you up.'] "Okay."

Monies, Things, and Costumes: An Exegesis on Gender and Developmental Fiscal Philosophy

Lily: "You know what I want? I want monies. I want lots and lots and lots of monies."

Steve: "Well, you know, that's why daddies go to work. They do a job and they get paid."

me: "That's why mommies go to work, too."

Steve: "Oh, yeah. I guess some mommies work, too."

Lily: "I just want monies. I want them SO BAD. I just want to go to the store and buy monies."

me: "Sounds like you should be a stockbroker."

Steve: "Why don't we brainstorm the kinds of things you can do for money when you grow up?"

Lily: "I want LOTS AND LOTS of monies."

Steve: "By the time you grow up, there will probably be lots of jobs in the financial sector [since, yanno, there aren't any now]"

Lily: [grunt.]

me: "Or you could go into Cardiology. You won't have much of a life, but maybe you won't like people anyway and won't want one."

Lily: [grunt] "Maybe I only need ONE money."

Steve: "You could be an artist. They get money every now and then."

me: "And you DO like to draw all over the walls and furniture."

Lily: [thinks] "No, I can't be an artist."

me: "Why not?"

Lily: "Because only boys can be artists. Girls aren't allowed."

me: [inner feminist rage starts to emerge] "Why? Why can't girls be artists, too?"

Lily: [dons didactic tone] "Because, mommy. Boys... well, they get... *things.* Girls... they get... *costumes.*"

Steve: "That's sort of deep."

me: [think: OMG my inner feminist is going to keel over]

So, um, I guess we should move to LA?

Sam: "Mommy, I am almost six and I haven't been on TV yet."

Me: "Actually, honey, you have. You just don't remember."

Sam: "I don't just want to be on On-Demand. I want to be on the *good* shows."

Me: "Like?"

Sam: "Ugh. You know. The kind of shows I like."

Me: "Okay."

Sam: "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Me: "Honey, you don't want to be on TV. People on TV go crazy."

Sam: "But they're on TV."

Me: "Well, we don't live in LA anyway. And even if we did, you'd need an agent."

Sam: "So, what's stopping us? I know I'd like to move to Hollywood."

Lily: [interrupting] "Ooo. And I'll be a ROCKSTAR. Do you like my shirt? It's a rockstar shirt."

Sam: "I've wanted to be famous my WHOLE LIFE."

Me: "Well, you didn't tell me until you were three, so that's only like two years."

Sam: [ignores me] "You can't just give up on something you've wanted to do your WHOLE LIFE."

Morning Compliment

Lily: "Morning Mommy."

Me: "Morning, Baby."

Lily: "Huh."

Me: "I said 'morning, baby.'"

Lily: "No. I mean your boobs."

Me: "They're under my nightgown."

Lily: "They're UP."

Me: "Hallelujah."

Lily: "Up is better than down."

Me: "Okay."

Morning Conversation: Channeling Trinny and Suzanna

Lily: "Mommy, I need to talk to you."

Me: "What do you need to talk to me about?"

Lily: "Your boobs."

Me: "My boobs?"

Lily: "They're falling."

Me: "Um..."

Lily: "Why are they falling?"

Me: "Um... because I had babies?"

Lily: "When I grow up, will my boobs fall, too?"

Me: "Probably."

Lily: [Despair-laden-sigh][Then reaches over and grabs one of my boobs] "We just need to figure out how to make.them.stay.UP!!"

Me: "Maybe a better bra?"

Lily: "SOMEthing."

the purpose of this post is to help me overcome my gremlin rage by flooding the internet with cuteness

this is Lily wearing Margie Mills' sunglasses (at the Burger King: where all good Utahns go for Saturday breakfast)

Afternoon... well, you can't quite call it a conversation, can you.

Me: [taking off my coat after picking (2yo)Lily up from preschool]

Lily: [high pitched screech]

Me: [thinking there's a spider somewhere]

Lily: [pushes down her plastic sunglasses with a single finger] I LOVE YOUR OUTFIT, MOMMY!"

Me: "Uh... thanks?"

Lily: "What a GREAT belt!"


Maybe she's somehow been absorbing the last book I read? Cuz otherwise I'm stumped.

Morning Conversation

Me: "Look, Lily, I picked out a whole cute outfit for you!"

Lily: [shakes head][all words are spoken a bit muffled because she refuses to remove her binkie] "No, Mommy. I don't want *those* shoes, I want these *cool* shoes":


Me: "Well, why don't we do your hair?" [I pull out a hair tie]

Lily: [screech] "No, no! Mommy! I don't want THAT one, I want a PINK one!"



Me: "Okay, okay. Let's put on your clothes."

Lily: "Not THOSE clothes. I need PINK pants and that shirt is TOO BIG. I want THESE pants and I want THIS shirt":



The thing is, she actually ended up looking pretty cute.

Lily's reaction to the last post

"Shoe! Mama! Mama! Shoe! My Shoe!"

[happy laugh followed by triumphant tone and poking at my poor computer screen]

"SHOE!!!!"