May 13th, 2010- a day that came and went, forever changing my life. That was the day that my first daughter was born. My firstborn was a boy, one that I love and have repeatedly thrown myself into his world to connect with him. So many times there is a wall in front of me and I knock it down with a stern self-talk, I will spend time with my boy.
But, Sonora Grace is completely different. I love to spend time with her, we giggle over goopy eggs and slimy mushrooms while we make dinner, and take turns eating raw cabbage right out of the bowl of prepped coleslaw. I invite her almost everywhere I go, for fun. We have a solid parent/child relationship, and there are boundaries- one minute we’re laughing together, the next she is over my shoulder and on her way to the bedroom for time out. I can hardly stand to be without her though, because I know her. I miss her. I want to help her figure herself out so she can be happy again, it is my greatest joy as a parent.
A folded down toilet lid is the perfect perch for a toddler watching momma get ready for the day. Sonora sits on it several times a week and watches on as I brush my teeth, comb my hair, and apply my makeup. I usually brush her cheeks with powder, and allot us each a mist of body spray. Usually, she is content just to watch me. Sometimes she makes small talk and I happily engage. The mirror captures the majority of my attention, and Sonora, perched on the toilet watches me, her mirror. I am who she wants to be, doing the kinds of things she wishes she could do, so I kiss her nose and say, “Very soon you will wear makeup just like momma, but right now you are perfect the way you are.” This morning our routine commenced and she was raking her fingers through my makeup bag, and retrieving different items I needed. She found pink nail polish and nearly fell off the toilet lid, “MOM! I found pink nail polish! Will you paint it on both of us?!” She was elated, and I pouted, “I don’t have time for nail polish, honey. We’re in a hurry.” She kept rattling my makeup bag and pulled out two matching earrings, which I didn’t even remember I had. She stood up on the toilet seat and held out the dangling [faux] diamonds, “Mom! You should wear these in your ears today!” For a moment I wondered if my pierced ears would still tolerate earrings. She dropped one behind the toilet, where I warned her to retrieve carefully, as her brother frequently misses the water when he aims. She giggled, grabbed the earring, and washed it in the sink. “Here, Mom! Wear it!”
The idea of wearing earrings was annoying. Painting my fingernails sounded like torture. I know I conveyed all of this simply through my body language, and Sonora just sank back onto her seat and made faces. It made me think about her, so full of creativity, and a portrait of pure femininity. She wants to paint her nails. She wants to wear earrings. She wears skirts everyday. Then, there’s me, a total female failure. What really struck me is that I used to love those things. I used to really care. It’s not like I stopped caring overnight either, I have just trained myself. I have just reevaluated what is important to me, and what isn’t. Even though I used to love painting my nails, hence why I own a million colors, I just haven’t had time. Even though I love doing my eye makeup for 30 minutes, I’ve dropped a few stages from my routine as the “Hurry up, Honey! We’re late!” became more frequent, and that has happened with more children. We’ve also been very frugal in the last few years, meaning my makeup has typically been the cheapest I could find. Some people don’t care, and that’s fine. The truth is, I actually do care, I just laid that part of myself down. I stopped getting haircuts. I stopped wearing earrings. I stopped wearing eye shadow, and toner. I stopped caring. I realized as my daughter was watching me, eating up my every move, startling at pink nail polish and clutching my old earrings, that somewhere deep down I was her and it was really painful that motherhood had caused me to give that up. Especially since my kids don’t need a robot to raise them, but a real person, who has likes and dislikes, emotions, and preferences. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I thought to myself, I really want to embrace femininity again.
I was thinking about frugality as well, its one of my excuses for buying $1 synthetic brushes, and frequently using the same lipstick I wore the day I got married, which was 5 years ago. I wondered if I actually stepped out and bought nice makeup, if the money would be there. What if makeup is a need? Sure, it doesn’t put food on the table. But really, can our heart have needs? I guess I could argue that my heart needs a $500 Louis Vuitton bag, but that’s actually not how I feel. I am grasping for pieces of my DNA that God specifically crafted, and realizing I’m not living in its fullness. I love being feminine. I love to look beautiful for my husband. I love to have my little girl look up to me. I love spending an hour on my makeup. And I actually, with a passion, hate the makeup I use. It is so cheap, and makes my face break out, so I try not to wear it unless I want to look nice. In my heart, I am a little girl, who loves to wear sparkly dresses, strappy sandals, and trendy chunky bangs. Today I rescinded the decision that it’s too hard to be me, that it takes to much time to let myself do things that I enjoy. I didn't do it just for me, but for Sonora and Cori, who I want to teach to value themselves, not for vanity's sake alone, but for letting that little girl inside live on.
I’m a proponent of setting boundaries for my kids to protect my needs, and I am going to start setting a new boundary, for myself- I, Summer Krismanits, take care of myself. My birthday is this month and if anyone is curious, I am asking for makeup, a haircut, and earrings from Target.
And....not to negate Biblical inner beauty, just feed your soul, ladies. That's what I'm thinking.
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