Friday night was one of those magical evenings…the kind where, as a mother, you take your only daughter, in a house with four sons and a husband,…and go see Disney On Ice with the Brownie/Girl Guides troupe.
This is a memory worth eleventy-billion words because of the nature of how much I overcome just to be able to get out of the damn house…
It was incredible, truly.
It was also a testament to how much willpower it takes to refrain from having a panic attack (read: losing one’s shit) surrounded by eleventy-billion people, mostly being small dependents and spoiled “get its” and “want its”.
Nonetheless…our seats were literally smack at the end of the arena, in full sight of the entire “stage”…it was FRABJOUS!
There was Mickey (cool)…and Minnie (nails down a chalkboard)…and Goofy (I can relate) and Donald Duck (annoyance)…then shit got real…
Lights were blinking, kids were screaming…and out came Nemo! \m/
Then…out came Dory.
I caught the reaction of my daughter’s BFF’s mother out of the corner of my eye…
Good…I wasn’t the only one…
The costume department either didn’t realize, or maybe even did it on purpose…but Dory’s googly-type eyeballs were…right smack on the boobs of the skater adorned in her fishy glory.
Thank the gods they didn’t bounce. Just sayin’.
I took a good couple of minutes to just sit and watch…my daughter.
The way her eyes lit up when the men lifted their partners up in the air…
The way she got fidgety and excited at the fantastic costuming of “It’s A Small World”…wherein a single overcoat had 15,000 hand-sewn mirrors to display…
And I looked at her and thought to myself: “I made her. I grew her and I sustained her and here she is in all of her childlike glory…” and was a little leaky from my ocular orbs.
I don’t get a lot of “Mom and daughter” time. I aim to change that. I’m simply much more comfortable with boys…likely stemming from my own tom-boy childhood spent playing more sports than my male friend counterparts ever did.
But when I do…I watch her. I see how she’s an extrovert…loves dancing and singing and acting…and I am so fiercely proud at how she can hold her own with four brothers in a way I will never know (being an only child, myself).
I listen to her stories (which, to date, her record has been 52 minutes straight of talking…) and answer her questions. I support her love of “bling” and she supports my love of “Colour!!”
Missing many of my matriarchal figures now in my life, I often feel lost and lonely.
Then I look at my daughter and realize that she is going to give me the gift of longevity, even if it isn’t mine to have, simply by carrying my blood, my virtues and my legacy.
Generations. Future. Forward. Hope.
And for a quick moment in time, I can truly be comforted in knowing that each memory I make with her will continue through time.
Even if it’s of Dory’s googly-eyed boobs. 😉