Girly Girl

I attended an event on Saturday that was entirely out of my comfort zone. Insecurities plagued me all week as I anticipated the obvious awkwardness others would witness, demonstrating personal areas of weakness I’ve been desperately trying to hide from all other capable moms.

My four year old daughter, Mary Mac, accompanied me to the elaborate affair, reminding me that if she could brave the whole new world we were about to enter together then I could certainly put on big girl pants and do the same. I am the adult after all.

Hand in hand we walked through the entrance doors, surrounded by good friends for support, and stepped over into little girl heaven that those carrying the Y chromosome could never understand.

We were at an American Girl fashion show.

I knew this day was coming. Mary Mac’s early devotion to baby dolls of every kind laid the groundwork for inevitable interest in these high-end, secure-a-second-mortgage- to- pay- for kind of dolls. I never played with dolls much as a child and have been fascinated in watching someone with my DNA exhibit such a love for them.

My daughter is primarily interested in the Bitty Baby which is the infant version of the American Girl, and a little less pricey, but nonetheless, it does appear that Santa may have to see a few more patients in the office before Christmas day arrives.

My good friend, Ivy, graciously invited a group of my college girlfriends and our daughters to be her guests at this fundraiser. There were little girls in abundance dressed in sassy pajamas and sparkly slippers, carrying an American Girl doll in one arm and token gift bag in the other. Most girls and their dolls showcased matching outfits, skin and hair color and for a moment briefly resembled a scientific conference highlighting the benefits of human cloning, minus the angry protestors congregating outside.

(There were a few dads picketing in the parking lot hoping to safeguard the chunk of change that would soon fly out of their wallets, but they were a very peaceful group so the law did not have to be summoned.)

Much to my surprise, I found myself delighting in the atmosphere of baby doll land, clapping for each of the runway models and conferring with Mary Mac about each of the dolls featured. At one point, I even squealed out loud– yeah, you read that right – when my name was called for one of the door prizes given out among the 200 or so in attendance.

The conclusion of the event almost convinced me to purchase my own personal American Girl doll with coordinating outfit, skin and hair color. But they have yet to make one with mismatched sweatpants and sweatshirt and dirty ponytail covered with a baseball hat. I hear it's a possibility in 2009.

It was a great way to spend the afternoon with close friends and their precious little girls, but more importantly, a moment to relish in the delicious goodness and joy of being the mother of a baby-doll loving daughter.

The Mamas:



The Babies:



The Runway Models:








Mary Mac and Me:


Catherine and Elizabeth:


Kate, Tricia and Lauren


Lydia and Tey


Cousins:


Placing tickets in the prize box......


.....she won 15 minutes later!