mirror, mirror

Tonight I watched Katie posing in front of the mirror in our hallway. She spends a lot of time doing that lately. So much, we put a full length mirror in her bedroom. The hope was that this would prevent half-naked prancing in the hallway. Yeah...she likes the hallway one better. She came out with hair up, blue pajama top. She skipped out with pigtails and red pajama pants. Back to the green and white pajamas. Then she took a shower...and started all over again.

I found myself wondering, "what does she see when she stares into that mirror?" I know what I see when I look at my daughter. I see a beautiful girl, who can look pretty ugly when she's angry. I see a talented kid, who all too often coasts by with the bare minimum effort. I see the enthusiasm of childhood, tempered by the onset of teen angst - being too enthusiastic would be uncool. I see the shadow of the toddler who never left my side, and frightening glimpses of the woman she will become. I see the battle between wanting to be accepted and being true to herself. I see the pig-tails and mascara, the stuffed animals and texts to boys, the elation and frustration, cartwheels and high heels - all in equal, scary measures. When I look into her face, I see the baby I carried and the soul I have known since before she was born.

What does she see?

I was in a workshop last week when I was asked to say three words that would be said by co-workers at my retirement party. Now, first of all, I hate these types of questions...."if you were a root vegetable, what kind of root veg would you be?" ummm...turnip? Oh, is that bad? Anyway, I was so stumped by that question, it was embarrassing. I stammered, stuttered, and couldn't think of a thing. When pressed to say how I thought co-workers see me, I answered "insomniac, overly-demanding, quiet." The people at my table were shocked, as they said none of those were words that would have come to their minds - well, maybe the insomniac part...that's legendary. One person even went so far as to say she's concerned if that's really how I see myself. Other people described themselves with such hope, such optimism...

I look in the mirror every day. If I'm not seeing myself, then who do I see? I think a lot of the person in the mirror is the girl I was TOLD I was the whole time I grew up. It was summed up in two words, "not perfect." If it's not an A+, then it's not perfect. If there's one thing out of place in your home, then it's not perfect. If your hair is messed, then it's not perfect. I look at the things I have done, and see only the mistakes...keep looking for perfect.

When I look at my children, I don't see what they have done wrong (well, yes, I do, but I don't see that as who they are). I don't measure them by how many mistakes they make, or how many others have done better. I expect my kids to be true to themselves, and they're for sure not perfect. I don't want perfect - I prefer lovable and learning. Perfect kids wouldn't go with my imperfect furniture anyway.

When Katie is prancing in the hallway, I have two hopes for her. I hope that - and I really do mean this - she is wearing something more than a bra. But even more, I hope that she sees what the rest of us see smiling back at her - all her imperfect glory. All the possibility. All the dreams. All the lovable mess that is her.