PASSIONATE HOPES AND PLEASE

PASSIONATE HOPES AND PLEASE

As I was "just browsing" in a Home Goods the other day, something happened between an excited young girl and her annoyed looking mother. I can't shake their exchange from my mind.

My heart went out to the girl. She was so hopeful, expressive and passionate for the item that she wanted her mother to buy.

I could hear her sweet, sing-songy voice describing what they could do with the ten foot tall, six feet wide ornate iron arbor which had gorgeous gates and cost over $300.00! Her fantasy was beautiful!

 I smiled at the girl, who was focussed on convincing her mom, but her mother's eyes met mine, so I smiled even wider at her. 

The mother's reaction threw me. Her expression started to appear angry and she snapped something at her daughter in a soft voice, which I couldn't hear, but I recognized the tone immediately. My heart sank.

I felt like I knew that girl. In fact, the first time that I saw that arbor, I wanted it. It was the prettiest piece of outdoor decor that I had seen in ages. It had a romantic, old fashioned quality to it!

After checking the price, I knew that even though my husband could replicate it, it could cost more in supplies and time. Then, my grown-up self reminded me that currently I don't have that sort of cash and that there was really no place in our yard for it right now.

I put it in the back of my head as a possible "Some day fantasy idea." I have lots of those!

I recognized the hopeful spirit, the romantic imagination and the determined "sales pitch." I could feel her disappointment and confusion about why wasn't her mother envisioning the same idea? She was young, but not defeated, she stood her ground. I knew that I was just like her over 50 years ago.

She didn't crumble when her mother snapped at her. Instead, she said "What do you think Daddy would think about this? Should we ask him?"

The mother angrily mumbled something and quickly walked off. The girl followed her.

I was angry with a couple of things. 

I was angry with the mother's reaction. The girl was young, but not too young to be given a thoughtful explanation. Even though they didn't appear to be strapped for money, if they were, that would be an honest and best reason not to buy the arbor. It could be said nicely and not with a phrase I came to learn "We can't afford to WASTE money on THAT!" ...(implying how stupid and selfish I was)

From the "just so" (expensive/upscale) appearance of the mother, I feel she was worried more about how she looked... Is that why she snapped at the girl, because I smiled at her? Did she think I was laughing at her? Did she think the piece was so ornate that it was gaudy? Was she embarrassed that her daughter publicly wanted it?

It was the attitude of the mom that angered me. I knew it too well and hoped very much that I didn't use it often on my own kids, as it was used on me.

I recalled how my mother, 50 years ago, would be short and demeaning when I expressed my opinions, yet 10 years ago, that same mother would hear me say how pretty something was and buy it for me immediately, whether I wanted it or not!

In my case, my mother was very young, had five kids in nine years and was on a tight budget fifty years ago. Ten years ago, she lived comfortably and was extremely generous.

Although, she still decided what she should buy me. She still didn't like all of my tastes, and often would say "Oh, you like THAT better?"

I never asked her to buy anything for me as an adult, I had my own money by then, but she would show up with stuff that I didn't need or want but she wanted me to have it, and it had to be displayed when she visited!

The other thing that I was even more angry about was my reaction to the little girl and her mom.

I had expected the mother to smile back when we made eye contact, acknowledging how her daughter had a youthful, but unrealistic imagination. When she snapped at the girl, I kept walking and smiling. I was biting my tongue, for I wanted to cry for the girl when I heard that familiar tone.

I wish that I had told the girl that I thought it was the most beautiful piece and that I wished that I had a place for it. I wish I told her that maybe one day she could get one for her own home when she grew up, the same way I gently told my youngest son that he could have a dog when he grew up. 

I wish I said, as I often say to mothers who's babies are crying in the supermarket (and it always brings me near tears when I say it!) "I know that it's hard to believe, but you will really miss this one day."

I wish I also said, "Cherish these moments. Encourage her passionate confidence and hopeful spirit, girls tend to loose it in their teens and it's so difficult to gain back".

June 5th, 2016