Backseat Expressions

Every Thursday I drive my three children plus one to church for an evening of youth activities.  There is always a theme, and it is generally lots of fun.  This past Thursday the theme was "Red Carpet," and the suggested style of dress was "dressy."  Sophia and I looked through her closet and found her prettiest spring dress with eyelet lace and a pink sash.  We pulled out faux pearls, a fancy flowery headband and her super-fabulous "high-heeled" shoes.  She was set and gorgeous.  Emma, however, had something else in mind... ultra tight black leggings, black leather boots and a short black t-shirt with a leopard print peace sign on the front.  I sighed and could not conceal the look of disapproval on my face.  "I'm not sure that's appropriate for church," I said, "And I'm also not sure that's what was meant by 'Red Carpet,' Emma."

She regarded me with mirrored disapproval, "MOM!  Can't a rock star be on the red carpet??"  In the end I persuaded her to go with a beautiful blue and white floral dress and some sparkly ballet flats.  Very nice and respectable, but not at all "Emma."

On the way to church Emma and her friend who rides with us each week sat in the backseat of the van.  I felt a sense of dread creep down my spine when I saw that her friend was dressed like a mini-skirted, female version of Michael Jackson, and I listened silently as Emma pulled on her sensible dress and grumbled to her friend,  "Do you know what I WANTED to wear?..." Emma described the "rock star" costume that was lying rejected on the chair in her bedroom.

"That sounds so cool!!  You should'a worn THAT!!"  the friend replied supportively.

"I KNOW!!" she cried, "It's like my mom is totally against me being cool and expressing myself."

So there I sat like so many other moms* overhearing a significant backseat conversation that my daughter assumed I was oblivious to.  And I felt a little ashamed of myself... not for eavesdropping (since I plan to listen in on those backseat conversations until she has her own car), but because she was right.  I DO step in and prevent her from expressing herself too often.  I am sure that I could have assisted with the rock star costume and made it more church appropriate while still allowing Emma to be cool and expressive, but I didn't.  I am still learning.  Since she is my first born, she is the only almost-nine year old I've ever tried to mother.  Lucky Emma.  She has so much to teach me.

And so later that evening I apologized to Emma for suppressing her inner-rock star.  I am slowly learning. Be patient with me, my dear.

*My beloved best friend, Jenny, can you even imagine half of the nonsense Evangeline overheard us discussing in the backseat of the Chrysler during our middle and high school days??  Aye Carumba!