Dear Harper, on your 4th birthday

Dear Harper,

You and I have had quite a year. QUITE A YEAR. If you'd have told me I'd have a girl as "girly" as you, a child with whom I'd spend hours fighting about clothing, a child who gracefully flits about from place to place like a prima ballerina, I would not have believed you.

I would have told you that gender is manufactured, that it's nurture -- not nature -- that decides these things. I'd tell you that because I encouraged you toward balls and cars and running around outside that I could never have a girl child who doesn't believe in "too many" ruffles, "too much" glitter, or "enough" pink or purple. I would have been wronger than I'd ever been in my life. I don't say this insultingly, just honestly: I cannot believe a child of my body and blood is into frilliness and fanciness as much as you are. It dominates so much of who you are right now, so that's why I'm writing what I'm writing.

But then... I'm speaking as my adult self. When I think back on my childhood (now fuzzy, as there just isn't enough room up there any longer), I remember fighting with my mom at age 4 because I didn't want to wear pants. I remember obsessions with leotards, Annie, Grease, and gymnastics. I remember wearing out the flower girl dress and matching barrette with flowing ribbons I showed off at my aunt and uncle's wedding. I remember my bride costume -- MY BRIDE COSTUME. (I later decided I would never marry, then along came your daddy.)

But I am calmed. Because even though I must have been a walking embodiment of twee, I grew into a feminist with my own mind, rules, and ideas about life. And so shall you.

So this is to say that I don't think that "girly girls" are weak. You, my darling daughter, are anything but. (See: hours of fighting) You know what you want. I simply -- frequently -- disagree. This leads me to my next point about you. You have inherited my control issues, and for that, I am truly sorry. There are good points to this, Harper.
Stuff gets done.
You'll have a clear vision of what you want.
Your need to be right about all things means that you value and retain knowledge (although not always wisdom).
You'll surround yourself with people who have met your high expectations, who have proven they can deal with your crazy shit and planning and need to have things just-so, and you'll therefore have close friends to whom you are devoted.

But this also means that when things don't go your way, you don't react well.
It means when people disappoint you, it makes it extra difficult to get over.
It means that when you want something done your way, and then it's not, that you have hard choices to make about whether/how you can deal with it.
It took me years to accept your father's way of doing things around the house and with the kids. I'm still working on it, and I probably will be for life. I hope I can provide you with the coping mechanisms you need to have a content, fulfilling life in spite of this little personality trait. But ultimately, daughter, it's up to you.

When you are happy, nothing compares. You walk around singing, dancing, twirling. You play with your dolls for loooong periods of time lately, and that is awesome. You are pretty excited about Wonder Woman (who, interestingly, you keeping referring to as Super Woman. Every time, every day, several times a day). You love your sister and you adore your brother. You are so darn smart, so inquisitive, so imaginative. You have a smile that lights up the world, just lights it up. You're kind to your friends. You launch yourself at Daddy when he walks in the door.

Who will you be? What good will you do in the world? Will you always choose skirts and dresses? Will you go cheerleader or goth? Only time will tell. But I love being your mother, and I am proud and hopeful and excited to share your journey with you. I hope you know you can always lean on me. I know you know that I'll always offer unsolicited advice. I love you beyond all measure, beyond my wildest dreams. Be you, Harper, just be you. And the world will continue to love you too.

Love,
Mommy