Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Tip: Maribou feathers + scissors = BAD IDEA.

We have been blessed. Rowan has 2 female cousins who are older than she is, and every few months, we receive bulging boxes from Montana filled with clothes. I rarely need to buy anything, though I sometimes snag a bargain that I know will be cute on her, and I always have more clothes than she can wear. So many things are adorable and fit her perfectly. But some of it isn't my style, so it doesn't get worn often. Then, I feel the inevitable guilt.

It's perfectly good. Practically brand new!

But it'll look weird. Or silly. Or too girly. Or sparkly. Or (insert random reason here).

But it's hardly even been used? Certainly she could wear it once?

So some things never get worn, spending their time at the bottom of the drawer until they are (phew) too small and relegated to the plastic bin in the closet.

The other day, I pulled out an adorable pair of Osh Kosh sage green cords. The shape, the style, the color--all great. But? They had some weird crocheted flowers attached to them that had shrunk into little pink and orange globs. Stuck to the legs. So, while Rowan was in the bath, I pulled out my seam ripper and voilà!!! Plain pants!

I felt so powerful.

Then I grabbed the coral polka dot baby blazer. With the dumb bows. Pluck! Pluck! Bows begone!!!

I dressed her for church in the sage pants with a pink turtleneck and white sweater. She looked great, sans crocheted pink and orange blobs. (I'm saving the blazer for another time.)

I was SuperMom.

Monday morning came, and I searched her closet for something comfy to wear. And I saw it.

The black velour jogging suit. With the embroidered pink butterflies. It was so cute, and it looked brand new. Likely never even washed. And she looks so good in black.

EXCEPT that the hood was lined. With feathers. Pink maribou feathers.

I couldn't do it. Her face would be surrounded by pink fluff that belonged on Blanch Devereau's bedroom slipper. I just couldn't put my strong, tough little girl in something like that.

So while she was in the bath, I grabbed a scissor, and started to work on the stitches.

Man, this is really hard to get at. All these stupid feathers. Those women in that Chinese sweatshop must have been really determined. Fluff and fluff and... SNEEZE. Oh, this sucks. Fine, I'll just cut it. Oh, NO! Fluff! And Fluff! And FLLLLUUUUFFFFFF!!! Oh, NO!!! What have I done???

It was everywhere. On my jeans, stuck to my sweater. In my hair. Infiltrating my contact lenses. Up my nose. In my mouth. On the floor, stuck to the shower curtain, floating in the air. And then? It crossed the barrier into her bath.

And she did not like it. Not one bit.

For the very first time in her life, Rowan asked to get out of the tub.

She clung to me, naked, screaming and terrified.

Of pink maribou feathers.

My tough little habanero-sauce eating girl, taken down by fluffy, rose-colored birdie bits.


PutYourFlareOn said...

Pleeeeeease tell you got a photo of the feather mess?

The Bold Soul said...

I am picturing Rowan, much later in life when she's moving to New York City for the first time to become a world-famous musician or dancer, and one day she'll decide to explore the Village. On Halloween. When every drag queen in the city is out in full costume... complete with PINK FEATHER BOAS! Suddenly, she will freeze in place, utterly terrified... and she won't know why...

Anonymous said...

Funny! But seriously, who thought it was a good idea to line a hood in feathers in the first place?!?!?

Anonymous said...

TOO Girly?Too Sparkly? Wait till she is at that age where anything with sparkles is great. They all seem to hit it....don't think they actually carry the love of sparkles into their teens though

La Rêveuse said...

I know it's coming, and that's why I am doing my darndest to avoid it until then. No princesses, limited pink, limited sparkles. Tasteful pink sparkles at the mo. (If that's possible.) And plenty of cars and orange and blue and mud. She has baby dolls, but she also has matchbox cars, and so far doesn't seem to have a preference.

Anonymous said...

Know what you mean my girls were both pretty good with cars or dolls and my grandaughter is tougher than all grandsons put together but she does love her frou frou too. She is the one that has had the most to deal with medically and is such a trooper....and she is always the one who wants to try the highest slide, the fastest speed on the jetski, waterskiing at 4 and give her the biggest roller coaster ever and she is happy. Ryon always says we are going to send the boys to girl scout camp like her to toughen them up! Ha! She hates pink but loves tourquoise or aqua....no pink please.

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