Monday, May 14, 2007

Pretty Frocks and Herding Flocks

I'm a tomboy mom. Matching socks to skirts, headbands to shirts, and making sure everything is in order just isn't me. I remember the oohs and ahs when we shared that we were pregnant with Briar. The word girl would barely be out of my mouth before women would squeal about a daughter.
Oh the dresses! The hats, the dolls! Years and years to come of pink this, pink that girlie, girlie, girlie. Pant, pant, pant. And then the inevitable I always wanted a girl, longed for one in fact.
I'm not trying to make light of unrealized dreams, I just never gave the gender much thought beyond suspecting that my mom was right, I'd be a mother of boys.

Ha! Here I am with two girls. And while I have never really gotten on board with the super frilly, dress 'em up and show 'em off pageantry that being a mother of girls can become, I have bought dresses and skirts. When I manage to put something other than jeans and a tshirt on Briar she literally preens in front of the mirror. Avery doesn't care much one way or the other, though lately she has been a bit fussy about longer skirts or dresses as they seriously impede crawling. The thing of it is, the times I remember are so few and far between that most of theses dresses get about 3 wearings in before they've been outgrown.

I try to compensate in other ways, like buying awesome jeans. Ok, I'm kind of kidding there. I mean that while I may fall short in the perfect outfits, I do pretty well in the perfect experiences. Whether we are taking a walk and stopping along the way to run our fingers along moss covered rocks or traipsing on people's lawns to get to the stone goose statue in a garden to plant a big wet one on its bill, we have a good time. This weekend we went to Jon's farm again.

The drive out to Jon's is beautiful and filled with mounting anticipation, and then silence. As Briar chatters about seeing Jon's animals and making sure they're ok, Avery kicks and squawks with delight. About 15 minutes before we arrive she passes out, the sweet sputters of infant snores lap along the inside of the car like a lazy afternoon tide. Moments late Briar wages a simply for show fight against sleep, by the 3 minutes to jon house mark she is out.

Saturday we made an effort to keep Briar awake. She had been looking froward to the visit for a week, Avery had been saying: daw-kee, daw-kee around the clock. We were all so very excited. We pulled into the driveway and by the time we opened the doors in back, both girls were clamoring to get out. We grinned at each other over the car as we each took a girl out. Our eyes clearly saying that this was the right thing to do, the right way to spend a Saturday. And indeed it was.

We spent several glorious hours out on the farm. Avery communed with the donkeys and dogs. Briar danced along the periphery of the flock in the meadow. Both girls got good and dirty. Sheeps trumped sequins. I know that there is a place for dresses and sparkles, but Saturday, down on the farm the girls made memories that will shine in their souls for the rest of time.

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