Aunt Judy's Jeans and a Reindeer Shirt

As we race across the black asphalt to the school doors, Eva turns around and looks up at me.  "I'm so excited, Mommy," she says.  "You're coming to my show today."  In the car she told me that some kids would be wearing stars but she'd be wearing a hat and Harmony would have bells.  Eva's little purple shoes slide on the ice and she makes a happy "Whoooooooaaaa" sound as she catches her balance and then begins skipping.  Bubbly and excited and full of energy.  Climbing the stairs towards her classroom she doesn't seem to notice that every girl in the hallway is decked out in some bright red taffeta skirt and white tights and patent leather shoes.  A threesome I don't recognize twirls for each other in front of the office door, but Eva just skips past them in her red reindeer shirt that is probably already a size too small and the jeans she got from Aunt Judy over Thanksgiving.  Earlier I tried to talk her in to dressier black pants with white polka dots, but she insisted that she loved these pants from Aunt Judy the best.  What Eva wears when we leave the house is not one of the battles I've decided to tackle. 

At Mrs. Norton's classroom we are greeted by Stella and "the dad."  Most mornings we guess who will be there with Stella, "the mom or the dad," and even though Becky and Ryan are our friends, at pre-school drop off we call them "the mom" and "the dad."  Eva turns for her "kiss-and-a-hug" and then I walk away as she says hi to Mrs. Murray.  In the halls are more girls in frilly silvery holiday dresses, and I pass Harmony on her way up the stairs. 

"I'm in so much trouble," I say to Jamie.  "Every girl here is in a frilly dress.  I didn't know."  Harmony's very proud of her full dark red skirt with black lace.  Her big sister dressed up for a choir concert a few nights ago and Harmony could not wait to be girly too. 

"I might have one at home if you need something," Jamie says, and I tell her I think Eva will be fine.  I'll think about it.

But as I get in the car I start to cry, and I'm not sure why.  Is it because even at 4 my little girl is already going to start getting the message that looks are important, that what she wears will be studied and scrutinized and compared?  Is it because my little girl is growing up and entering the world where other mean girls might hurt her?  Is it because I feel like an epic failure of a mother because I didn't think that a pre-school singalong warranted purchasing an ensemble that included patent leather shoes that will never be worn anywhere else?

At the office I do the thing I do now when I'm troubled and torn... reach out to my community of facebookers, friends who will give it to me straight and tell me what I should do, whether or not I will actually listen to them.  Most people seem to say Eva will be fine.  She's strong and independent and she has a mind of her own.  But put a dress in your bag just in case when you go back for the singalong.

So I have the dress (minus the patent leather shoes) in my bag and my camera in my hand as the show starts.  But the dress is not needed.  My brilliant little angel with a white hat that is supposed to turn her into a dove walks in to the church and points her reindeer-covered belly at me and smiles while she sings from the front row.  And when we go to the basement for cookie decorating, she slurps up frosting and Mike & Ikes and runs circles around me as she seeks out all her friends.  And only then do I notice how many other little girls are in leggings and long-sleeved t-shirts and how many other mothers look exhausted but happy to spend a little extra time with their little girls who will be growing up way too fast.