Class Picture!

Vi's class picture, 2011.

This is the morning before she got her ears pierced. Oh, you want to hear that story? Okay.

Vi has been asking to get her ears pieced for almost a year. At first, I thought, "No way. She's too young. Why would such a little girl need earrings?" This is such a good example of KGOY (Kids Getting Older Younger, a concept that has been on my radar since reading Peggy Orenstein's 'Cinderalla Ate My Daughter,' a book I highly recommend). Earrings are for big kids and grown-ups. Right?

Right? Or am I picking some arbitrary age-bracket?

After a few months of replying to the request with "I'll think about it," or "Maybe when you're older," I started really considering it. This wasn't some strange notion of hers about needing earrings to be a princess or beautiful. This was a rather well-rounded kid who happens to like jewelry. Vi likes the DP's (Disney Princesses) a lot, indeed. Just about as much as Disney wants her to. She also likes Star Wars, Superman, begs to see "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Spiderman," and has no fear of creepy-crawlies or roller coasters. She plays with such a wide variety of toys that when people ask me what she's "into," I struggle with an answer.

Even if she is well-rounded - how do I talk about things I think are beautiful without her thinking those 'things' are requirements of beauty? I try to tell her how beautiful she is when she's as far from 'princess' as possible - when she's muddy, climbing a tree, with messy hair in her pajamas, holding frogs, making compost. When she is dressed up in her "glass slippers" and covered in lip gloss, I tell her she looks fancy, and I try to avoid the word pretty.

There is something special to me, however, about the ways we dress up as adults. The things typically associated with women in our society - dresses, jewelry, pretty shoes, make-up, a nice hair-do - are fun for me. I played dress-up as a kid, but I don't think I was overtaken by a specific concept of beauty. I got my ears pierced when I was 8, after admiring my big sister's lovely lobes. In high school and college, I chopped my hair off, wore baggy clothes, and adopted a rather androgynous look. I didn't wear make-up, but for some reason I still wore jewelry. On top of that, I continued piercing my ears to mark special occasions. I have my original two, then one from my semester in Spain, one from a particularly special date, and one from when my dear grandmother Vigolia died. I have a total of five holes in my ears. (I stopped there. No gauged holes, no nose, no belly, and certainly nothing else!)

For a year in college, I somehow ended up managing the front-end of a day spa and salon. I think I was somewhat of a pet project of the cosmetologists, as they re-made me from a Supercuts and L L Bean non-model into a girly-girl again. It was admittedly fun, playing dress-up and having professionals play with my looks. I feel, though, that I lost some of myself that year. The ideals about self-image and beauty I want Vi to embrace are better demonstrated than simply spoken.

(This motherhood thing involves so much self-exploration. I'm exhausted.)

Dan and I talked about earring readiness. That she wouldn't do well with the pain, that she wasn't ready to take care of the holes and studs. We agreed that setting an age limit seemed, again, arbitrary. When I noticed other kids with pierced ears, I asked their parents about the experience. It just wasn't a big deal to any of them.

I told Vi it would hurt just like getting a shot at the doctor's office, to which she responded with tears, and she said she didn't want to get a shot. Some time passed, and she started talking about it again. This time, it was more like "I want to get my ears piered (she still leaves the 'c' out when she says 'pierced - very cute), so I will be brave at the doctor's office when I get my shot."

Well, it turned out that we didn't opt for any shots at this year's check-up. (Another topic for another day.) At the end of her appointment, she cried to me "But now I can't get my ears pierced!!" As if the two were inextricably linked. It was one of those upsets that was sad and endearing at the same time. I assured her that, when the time was right, she could still get her ears pierced regardless of her vaccination schedule.

She kept bringing it up. Not daily, not relentlessly, but in a matter-of-fact way. It wasn't "Can I get my ears pierced?" It was "When I get my ears pierced."

On school picture day, she woke up determined to get her ears pierced. She actually wanted to get them pierced on the way to school. Yeah, right, I thought. Actually, I think I said that out loud. On our way out of school that evening, out of the blue she said to a teacher, "Good night, I'm going to get my ears pierced now." Her teacher raised her eyebrows and looked at me for confirmation. I said, "Uh...um...that's not really the plan for this evening. Should we talk about doing that? Uh....let's wait until Daddy gets home and talk about it." (And I thanked my lucky stars to have a co-parent...both for the ability to discuss with him and the opportunity to delay the conversation.)

We got home, and she kept referring to the evening's timeline as it pertained to getting her ears pierced. "And then, after dinner, we'll go to the mall." "Before bed, we're going to the mall." And so on.

Dan came home, and I informed him of her intentions. I was so stunned by her determination, that I really didn't have an opinion on the matter. This kid has always been in charge of her own timeline. (For better or for worse.) She seemed to know that today was the day.

We turned on YouTube and found some videos of the experience. Dan and I were appalled at the parents bribing their kids, as if the piercing was somehow more important to the parents than desired by the child. We also cringed whenever the videotaping Dad said, "You're okay, it's not that bad." Yeah, right, Dad. Nice minimizing of your child's feelings. Even seeing some kids crying, she was undeterred. "NOW can we go to the mall?"

So, we shrugged, and went to the mall.

It went down like this: She picked out studs (so, so pretty, delicate little CZ and white gold daisies! Studs have come a long way since 1986). The piercer (Piercing specialist? Technician? Employee?) explained that she was working alone, and would have to do one ear at a time. I knew this could prove to be problematic, but we proceeded. She sat Vi down, marked her ears, cleaned them, explained the process clearly (and quite sweetly) to Vi, counted to three, and click! Pierced Vi's left ear.

Vi let out a delayed cry. Parents, you know what that means. The longer it takes for the actual sobbing to start, the longer it will go on. And go on it did. Oh, did it ever go on. When she was again calm, we delicately approached the topic of The Other Ear. This was hard to navigate. On the one hand, did it really matter if she only had one done, and we had to come back for the other? On the other hand, we had just spent $50. Would she EVER want to come back for the other ear? Would we just leave this stud in, or take it out? If we left it in, what sort of comments would other people make that might sway her decision in ways that go against my albeit mixed values on the topic? It would be upsetting to me if she made the choice based on teasing, or because some well-meaning adult said "Don't you want to look pretty?" Again, this was not supposed to be about being pretty. What exactly IS it about? I asked myself.

I actually heard myself say something unexpected: "We can go get ice cream if you do the second ear." Yikes. I had become one of the YouTube parents. Yuck.

In the end, after about 20 minutes of what I am proud to say was mostly calm, non-pressuring discussion, of course Vi came up with a solution for herself. She asked the employee for rubber gloves and an alcohol swab so she could pierce her stuffy's ears. After play-acting it out a few times, she told the employee that she could do the second ear while Vi pierced her dog's ears. 1, 2, 3 click! Followed by another set of delayed tears...which lasted less than a minute. She moved on to earring-to-earring smiles.

I still don't know where I fall on my inner controversy of beauty or what this experience will mean to her in the long run. I assure myself that this was her choice (and then immediately second-guess my judgement, with a little bit of "Why would you allow a four-year-old to make such a big decision?!?" Which I follow-up with "It's not THAT big of a decision. Calm down.")

I must say, though, her little ears really *do* look pretty. And I Can. Not. Wait. to go earring shopping with her.