I was driving to work yesterday and my mind was wandering (that’s not as dangerous as it sounds) when I had an “aha” moment. I had spent the previous afternoon shopping with my daughter (she’s 12 going on 16), which had turned out to be quite pleasant (anyone who has ever shopped with a preteen girl knows that isn’t always the case). She had earned money from her dog-sitting job and she wanted to go buy a new dress. Now, clothes shopping can be a bit of an issue because I have conservative rules (by today’s standards) about what is appropriate and what is not for a young girl to wear.
I come from a pretty conservative cultural background, and though I have loosened up a lot, sometimes my daughter can’t see that. At times I can’t even explain why I say no to certain things, it’s just “there”. Lately she’s been pretty good about it though, I think she can see where I am trying and I am willing to discuss it and make some compromises when I can.
ANYWAY . . . one of the things she bought yesterday was shoes, actually the ones in the picture here. I knew her Dad wouldn’t be crazy about them (can you walk in those?), but they were on sale, they fit, and it was her money so I said yes.
It hit me on my morning drive that my mother had done exactly the same thing. I can’t remember her ever saying no to shoes or purses (unless they were too expensive). I think that’s why I love them, it was the one area of expression that had a wide range of “appropriateness”. It was very comforting to think of my mom like that. Last week marked the fourth anniversary of her death, and it was nice to realize I could still get advice from her.