Girl Gone Mild

Last night, I had dinner with a new friend whom I just met this week. We'll call her Amber. She's 18 years old, a freshman in college, and is in a sorority. She's also gorgeous, friendly, and has a cheerful voice; definitely not the kind of girl who would have been friends with me (a dorky band-nerd who was - let's face it - kind of aggressive) in high school.

It would be all too easy to make the honest mistake of prematurely writing Amber off as a naive, superficial, dim-witted former cheerleader with nothing but boys, parties, and fashion filling her spoiled little head. But that's exactly what you would be doing - making a huge mistake.

As Amber and I sat and talked over salads and pizza that later made me regret having a stomach, I stood pleasantly corrected about the unfortunate stereotype with which I had previously, ignorantly associated her. It wasn't that I assumed she was an idiot or anything, I was just... prepared for her to be. (Sidebar: Let's be honest. Aren't most 18-year-olds know-it-all morons? I definitely was.) But Amber is no idiot. Articulate, intelligent, and with uncharacteristically-low-for-a-teenager use of the word "like," she told me about her family, her friends, her sorority, and her plans for the future - all with the calm self-assuredness of someone who has her act together.

I found myself excessively impressed with this girl and her well-adjusted, down-to-earth theories about sororities ("It's doesn't make me who I am, I am my own person and I don't have to share their opinions"), parties ("I'm not a big drinker; I don't like to lose control of myself and act like an idiot"), and sense of self ("I don't like to conform to what the group does; I know what's right and wrong and I don't just go along with things"). Yes, Amber is pretty in the way people with perfectly symmetrical faces tend to be, but without those pesky senses of entitlement and superiority that usually accompany great beauty. And yes, she's very friendly, but every word is genuine and sincere. She carries herself with self-respect and humility, and denounces most of the risky and self-destructive behaviors that this generation seems to find acceptable (i.e., drinking too much and dancing naked on a table, dumbing oneself down to attract men, and taking one's clothes off for Girls Gone Wild cameras - all of which are somehow justified as "the New Feminism" or "just knowing how to have fun," but are really huge, unappreciative steps backward for womankind).

I know many very respectable, accomplished, brilliant women, who make me proud of my gender and embody the reasons why women have made such great strides in the last 100 or so years. It's not that these women are hard to find, they are just hard to find at 18 years old - an age characterized by confusion, the need to belong, conformity, and constant search for one's identity, values, and true self. Basically, Amber is exactly how I wish I had been at her age. This girl has a clue.

The experience of getting to know this new friend can really be summed up in one word: Refreshing.

Babies Break Your Heart

I once had someone tell me, "Being a mother will break your heart again and again." She was the corporate trainer at a bank where I used to work, and although I'm not sure how that subject came up in the middle of learning about Regulation CC (or, "Reg CC," as we call it in the biz), those words have rung true again and again.

Since the moment I had Ellie, I've been wrapped around her tiny little finger. Her rosy little cheeks, big blue eyes, huge gummy smile, warm little belly, and familiar baby smell completely hypnotize me into a baby-induced stupor. I know it sounds cliche, but I honestly never thought I could experience this kind of love for someone.

There are poignant moments I've experienced with Ellie that still make me a bit tearful. Her first immunizations, where she belted out the cry that says, "How could you let them do this to me? You have betrayed me!" Walking into the bedroom and seeing Wes lying on the bed with Ellie propped up on a pillow in front of him, listening to him read her a story (which was as much for his benefit as it was hers). Actually, watching Wes with her pretty much anytime - the love he has for her, the tenderness with which he handles her, the way he always seems to know exactly what she's trying to tell us - amazes me. The first time Ellie smiled, it was so pure and beautiful that it made me cry a little. And her first laugh... it really did break my heart. I really do love her more than my body can absorb - fellow moms, you know what I mean!

My heart was broken again last night, about every thirty minutes or so, as Ellie woke up in a screaming fit because her poor little nose was running and she couldn't breathe. It wasn't serious, she isn't in need of a doctor or anything, but just the idea that I can't do anything at all to make her feel better except hold her and suction her nose (which she does NOT like) is torture. It makes me feel so helpless, and it reminds me that I can't protect her from everything. That seems unfair; babies are so innocent and perfect. I hate knowing that one day she will have to grow up and experience disappointment, loss, and pain along with all of the joy.

I give thanks every single day for Wes and Ellie... they truly are the best reasons to wake up that I could ever hope to have. And although Ellie continually exceeds the allotted amount of cuteness any baby should have, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Show Better Leadership

Here's a link to one of my favorite blogs.

Show Better Leadership

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