The text came one evening, shortly before our school’s annual Kennywood day – a day designated for our school district at our local amusement park.
It contained a photo of an outfit and the message that many of the graduating first grade girls would be wearing this shirt to Kennywood and it could be purchased from Justice. I knew, without a doubt, that I was among the last mom’s to receive this text.
I admit that it’s a tender issue for me. All my life, I have wanted to group of my own. I was attracted to shows like 90210; I wanted to be a part of a group of friends who were there for each other, who had each other’s’ back. Friends who took trips together and had beach picnics and gathered for national holidays.
Brene Brown says that fitting in is the biggest obstacle to belonging. I think about that a lot as I try to navigate these waters that I experienced in late middle school through high school. These waters of cliques and exclusion that my daughter, and many daughters, face in elementary school.
But I also know that it is normal for kids to want to fit in, and I don’t want my daughter to feel left out over something as inconsequential as a shirt. At least not one that I can afford and seemed easily attained.
I show my daughter the photo, explain that many of her peers will be wearing it, and ask if she would like it as well. “Sure,” she tells me, in a casual way.
Perhaps if she had been more enthusiastic about it, I would have acted sooner. It’s kind of a plain shirt, none of the bling or glitter that Justice is well known for. Plain gray, number 19 on the front from some unknown reason. But she just said, “Sure,” the same way she might answer if asked if she wanted rice with her dinner.
So I planned to run to Justice on the weekend. When it was convenient and less disruptive to the slower lifestyle I am trying to cultivate.
After Saturday morning Cheer practice (another major tender spot for me), we headed to the nearest Justice for the shirt. It was hot and my girl was not happy about shopping. After a half-hearted attempt to find the shirt amongst the dozens of racks and displays, I approached the counter, showed the texted photo.
The young woman was truly remorseful as she checked and found none in my daughter’s size. She was helpful as she contacted area stores. The closest stores that were likely to have it were each a good 45-50 minutes away. Way further than I wanted to drive. Way longer than the amount of time I wanted to give up on our weekend.
We don’t always get everything we want in life and that is an important lesson to learn. Our children need to know that life will sometimes disappoint them, and that they are capable of handling those disappointments. That they can come out on the other side and things will be fine. And that sometimes those disappointments will be great blessings.
I told the sales clerk that the other locations were just too far for me to get to.
As I turned to leave, she tore off the receipt paper, on which was printed the list of stores most likely to have the shirt, along with the item code and store phone numbers, just in case I changed my mind.
My daughter has a wonderful, sensitive soul. It is her kind heart that makes her so special. It is also her sensitivity that can result in a meltdown, especially when she is hot, tired and hungry. So as we left the store, I told my daughter that it was sold out. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would she be crushed that she didn’t have the coveted shirt. Would she be the odd-man-out in the group?
And that’s when the popularity gremlin came out in full force. Mentally, I was already plotting: If I could find the shirt, we could have them hold it and go out after early morning cheer practice the next day, and probably be home by noon. That wouldn’t cut into our day too badly. I was trying to decide which store I wanted to call first, based on which route would be the least painful to drive. That’s what moms do, right?
I no sooner had started to share my plan with my daughter when she interrupted me to ask, “Why do we all have to look the same?”
As I stammered for the answer she said, “We come in all different shapes and sizes. Why can’t we just wear what we want?”
I assured her that she didn’t need to wear the same thing, but that some of her peers thought it would be fun to dress alike.
She told me that she only thought it was fun to dress alike when it happened by accident, and she really didn’t want to waste part of our weekend driving to store that was far away.
With tears in my eyes and a heart full of wonder and pride, I voiced my support for her individuality and gratefully crossed the additional shopping trip off my life.
It is not the first time that my daughter has chosen to forego the crown and be her own unique self. I continue to be awestruck at her ability to do so. I thank God for giving her this gift, because it didn’t come from me. I pray that she will never see beyond my façade and never acquire my attachment to fitting in. I love her all the more for it.
I also live with fear in my heart over it. I know that she will be ostracized for her choices. I already see how the “popular” girls treat those who don’t fit into the molds they have already created in their minds. How they treat the girls who can’t do a cartwheel, or don’t wear clothes from Justice or whose moms have to work full time. I have already held my crying child in my arms, as she struggles to understand why she can’t just be accepted for who she is.
I don’t know how to answer questions that I still struggle with.
I believe that one day, in the somewhat distant future, she will be a beautiful young woman with such depth and light that will attract people who appreciate the wonderful gifts she has to offer. I pray that until that time, I will be able to support her, to keep her soul from getting crushed by the turbulent waters that seem way too deep for someone so young.
