Why Hot Pink Toes Really Do Matter…

My toenails are hot pink this morning. I’m really more of a muted-color-type of girl. I don’t think I’ve ever had hot pink toes before. But, then again I’ve never had an almost-third-grade daughter before either.

Truth be told, I also know all the words to Party in the USA and have listened to Selena Gomez’ version of Magic like it’s the first time I’ve ever heard that song. I know about Jeggings, silly bands, and Twinkle Toes. I know that pink and green plaid skirts with knee highs are all the rage this fall. I’ve even taken the quizzes in American Girl magazine to determine what kind of friend I am. (Turns out, I’m a good friend but I’m not a very good quiz-taker because I don’t usually like the choices and want to make up another, more realistic option. Note to self: for the love of everything holy and decent, just pick one answer and quit obsessing about it!)

These are the things I do so that I can glimpse into Madison’s world. So that I can understand the things on her heart and feel the challenges that she faces as she grows.

Sometimes it’s hard to get out of my 40-year-old mindset. To stop thinking about bills that need paid, laundry that needs done, meals that need planned, and phone calls that need made. I have to be intentional about it. I have to really look when she shows me an outfit that she likes and listen when she wants to tell me about the book she’s reading. Sometimes it means I need to play the Jonas Brothers when I’d rather listen to Fernando Ortega or David Nevue while I cook. Sometimes it means hot pink instead of mocha on my toes.

This weekend was a rite-of-passage sort of weekend as we ventured to the mall together and she got her ears pierced. She was nervous but really wanted to do it so I pushed her a little bit. Worlds collided as she tried to be mature and brave but admitted that she’d like to sit on my lap while they did it. She was trusting me; believing that it would be OK because I had said so. A trust that was built on lots of intentional moments.

We had a great time together that day. After she got her ears done, we sat on a bench and shared an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and she beamed. We talked about third grade and friends and I savored every minute.

And, you know, here’s the bonus: not only do I get to forge a budding friendship with my daughter but getting into her world allows me to shepherd her through it. Listening to her music gives me an opportunity to evaluate the messages with her. Instead of giving her a list of music that I choose, I get to teach her to think and choose good music that will help her dwell on all that is lovely and pure. When we shop together, I explain modesty and she begins to understand why some clothes are OK and others are not. When I take a friendship quiz out of her magazine, I can ask her why some choices are better than others and help her become a better friend.

I wish I could say that I always do this well. The truth is I don’t. Sometimes I miss the moment because I’m too busy with other things. Or I fill our schedule up so that there is no margin for these natural moments. Or I tend toward legalism and lists of rules instead of heart change. Or I correct in a way that squashes her instead of developing her. Or I think I know what she thinks or likes when really it’s what I think or like.

But, for THIS morning I have pink toes. And a heart that is brimming with precious moments that Madison and I shared this weekend as we prepared for third grade.

Adding to my gratitude list after too many weeks away from blogging:

• Freshly pierced ears and a grin that won’t go away
• Mom and daughter talking about beauty – both inward and outward
• Dancing around in the living room when no one else is looking
• Hot pink toes
• Back-to-school supplies – I love new pencils & fresh notebooks and so does she!
• Checking out a new coffee shop together and thinking it might be our new haunt as we both lick the whip cream off of our steamers
• Making silly faces together for the camera
• Splurging on the purse that matches her new plaid skirt
• Holding hands as we walk across the parking lot – she’s old enough to cross without my hand but we both still like it
• Snuggles in her loft and a contented sigh as we reflect on the weekend – the sigh was mine

Thanking God for my daughter and the blessing she is to my life… even if it means hot pink toes for this mocha girl.