The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

I recently took one of those annoying Facebook quizzes that you swear you’re not going to take, and then can’t sleep one night and end up taking it anyway. This one was rating how much of a “girly girl” you are. I had a vague idea that I wouldn’t ace this one with flying colors. Little did I know that the results would come back with a 0 % girly girl rating and a big question in bold asking if I was a woman at all. Nice.

Zero percent? Really? What does that make me then?

I’m not a tomboy, but I do like sports and being outside. I’m not masculine. Uh, and least I don’t think I am. I mean the blonde hair and the boobs tend to make me feel pretty secure in that one. So, zero percent, well it really took me by surprise.

This week, my youngest turned 5-year-old and I’ve kind of had this “I’m getting too old” feeling wash over me from the whole darn thing. I am not usually one who worries or dwells on age. I don’t mind telling someone how old I am, and I never have. Life is for living, not worrying about how much of it has gone by! But, having my baby turn school-age has actually played a number on me, I’ll admit it.

It has also made me introspective, as if I needed to be that any more than I already am. I’ve been watching as she plays with her neighbor friends. There are 5 little girls on our street going to the “Big K” next year. Five little princesses getting on the bus at the same time. It will be an adorable scene, and no doubt scrapbook worthy.

But, one interesting thing…four of the five of those little girls would classify probably at 100 percent on the “girly girl” scale. It is not uncommon for me to look out and see three or four girls in adorable sun dresses, dressy flip flops, perhaps donning tiaras as they dance about singing songs from Barbie and the Diamond Castle. And, then I see my precious little girl, right in the middle of them in her almost too small jean shorts and wrinkled t-shirt. Hair a mess and in her face. No tiara to be found. Flip flops well worn from running around. Fingernails a little dirty from who knows what.

So far, the girls on the street all seem to love her. But, I know what kindergarten can bring. I hate to think about the “she’s my best friend and you are not” stage that we’re about to enter. Right now, they almost always all get along. They don’t notice or comment on differences. I wish that we could freeze them like this for a good long while before they become into best friends, ostracizing others for being different, and the other catty games girls can play.

I was a girl once. And, I know how it can be. I tried out for pee-wee cheerleader with the girly girls and didn’t make the cut–which actually didn’t upset me at all once I realized what the job entailed. Those girls liked me enough, but I don’t think ever fully understood me. And, I did just fine. I never felt like being anyone but myself. I just wasn’t into that stuff, and I don’t think my daughter is going to be either. But, sometimes when you’re on the other end of “girly girls gone wild” it really can be hurtful. I was lucky to not be on the receiving end of that kind of cruelty.

So, my birthday wish for my non-girly girl is this: stay who you are–a vibrant ball of energy who loves playing Barbies but loves shooting Nerf guns with her brother just as much. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you have to be a certain way, other than who you are, my beautiful one. You are a princess in your own right and you will grow up to be a wonderful woman some day.

Me at Six, My Daughter at Five

Oh, and one more thing–I have it on authority that being a “girly girl” is sooo boring and totally overrated.