And the Tradition Continues

I got my ears pierced when I was four. My dad had vetoed my mom's attempts to paint my nails or pierce my ears, so when they divorced, it was the first thing she did. (No, Chris, I have no idea where I got my sassiness.) I still remember sitting in the seat in the mall, and hearing the countdown before the guns shot me. I remember the pinch, saying "Ouch" under my breath, and getting cheers because I didn't cry. Now that I think about it, I'd react more than that right now if somebody shot me in the ears. I guess drama queen-itis develops over time?

Before Addison was born, probably the Very Exciting Day I found out she was a "she," I turned, in all seriousness, to Chris and said, "You do know that I want to pierce her ears when she's a baby, right?" I was all prepared to defend my decision with things like, "She'll be too little to remember it," or "She won't be able to pull on her ears and bother them," or even "What if she's bald as a cue ball, and is slightly ugly, then people will know she's a girl right off and not say something we all regret!"

I didn't have to. His response, and I quote, was "Of course." This was also what he said the day I came home (before she was born) with butterfly wings and a tiny pink cheerleading costume. My husband, who has many meritorious traits, fully "gets" the girly-ness of girls. I never have to justify shopping for clothes; usually he's the one who has to explain to me that there are stores out there besides Target for making Trendy Clothing Purchases. He spends too much on me for Christmas, and he actually said "yes" to my suggestion that we just "browse" in the Tiffany's at Pebble Beach this winter. He and I both know "browsing" isn't a real word in my vocabulary; it's just a code word for "Spend Lots of Money." He doesn't even laugh at me when I come out of the bathroom with my face totally burned from at-home chemical peels. He's a keeper.

So Wednesday was the big day for Addie's ears. My pediatrician's office does it (You didn't really think I'd let some teenager at Claire's shoot my daughter in the lobes, did you?), and I scheduled it for the same day as her 4 month shots. I figured we'd get all of the Impaling with Sharp Instruments over in one fell swoop! Fun day for her;) It only took four of us to hold, position, and shoot, and lo and behold, two tiny gold hearts with "diamonds" inside. I was totally going to go with little pink rhinestones, but on the one day out of the month that she isn't clad in pink, she wouldn't match. Oh, the horror.

Chris called me in the early afternoon: "How did it go? How did she do? And why haven't you sent me a picture yet?" I got right on it, except that I forgot to attach the picture to the email. Thirty seconds later, from the man who can take three days to reply to my email: "Where's the attachment?" I rectified the situation, and sent out the picture to him and a few (dozen) friends and family.

Thank the Lord for putting me with a man who understands that my excessive Girliness is natural, and for patiently putting up with it! Because heaven help him, but there are TWO women in this house now, and he's in big, big trouble. I can hear it now, "Daddy, can we just look in Tiffany's today?"


(Hey, Aunt Barb, please note that my daughter is wearing BLUE. Not a shred of pink on her. See it? See it? )