Grasshopper New Media Presents...

The mothers out there get this already, and a few of you dads do as well, but the rest of you, well, maybe what I’m about to say will hit home for you: Your daughters love stuff that bores you to distraction. Yes? Is this true for you? If so, you have two choices, either remain at arms-length from purses and clothes and make-up and hairstyles, or fall in love with them.

I get that it’s awkward. I get that this stuff isn’t what you know or care about. I’m a guy, and before I had kids, there’s not a chance in Hades that I would have ever paused a second at the makeup counter at Macy’s. It’s not that I’m indifferent to women, or that I don’t like them. Heck, I’ll admit it - I *love* women. They’re beautiful. And I’m glad for whatever magic makes that happen, however they find their true voice.

On the other hand, I used to feel distant from all of the ingredients that went into whatever a women chose for her beauty regimen. It was alien to me.

But then, bam, I had a daughter.

At first, she was alien to me. But I discovered that I didn’t appear alien to her, that she loved who I was, she loved my choices, even if she wouldn’t choose them for herself. She loved to see me in a suit and tie, even if she’d never wear one. She loved to see me in a baseball cap, even if she’d never wear one. It was clear to me that it was about the love, not the like.

One evening, a fateful conversation: My daughter had learned how to use the toilet, but in the middle of the night, she still required an escort. It was three in the morning, and it was my turn. So I walked her to the bathroom, waited dutifully outside while she tended to business, then walked her back to her bed. Instead of going to sleep, however, she was wide awake. So we talked for a good long while, maybe an hour. We talked about the things she liked, about her activities the past week, about her list of favorites, all of that. And, at some point during the conversation, I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Without batting an eyelash, she looked at me and said, “When I grow up, I want to be a pony.”

In that instance, I realized that my little girl had no limitations, that in her head, she could do anything. And it hit me so hard, like a freight train, this sense of admiration, this sense of complete awe. And so I was able to genuinely reply, “That sounds fantastic, that will be fun,” as if it were very possible. As if I truly believed that, if she set her mind to it, one day I’d wake up to find out that, for her first day of senior year, she’d decided to turn herself into a horse.

Now, obviously I didn’t *really* believe it, but I did see myself in a new way. I’d learned that it wasn’t about me, that it was about her. I’d come to the realization that my life as a featured player had come to a close, and that my new job was to be a supporting player in her life. And damned if I wasn’t going to be the best supporting actor the world had ever seen.

So I let her lead. I let her teach me about what she valued, and I learned to let go and to truly love the things she loved. Now, I don’t wear make-up or use hair spray or put on dresses, but I find that I truly enjoy talking to my daughter about them. I enjoy clothes shopping with her, and I’ve learned to read fashion magazines and I’ve learned some elemental color theory and I’ve learned some basic trend-spotting. I’m not her mom, so she doesn’t nick camisoles from my closet, but when she tries on different outfits, she comes to me and genuinely seeks my opinion. We talk about her hair, we talk about the shade of her lip gloss vs. the shade of her eye shadow, we talk about her choice of leggings. And I speak from the heart, because I love her and have learned to love what she loves.

It’s not easy sometimes, and there are certain things I don’t fully understand (truthfully, I’m not a fan of make-up and have always thanked the heavens that my wife doesn’t wear any), but at least I have some knowledge of it, and that little bit of knowledge, combined with an undaunting respect for my daughter, lets me create an atmosphere where she can become the woman she wants to become. And, to me, that’s everything.

by Stu Mark

Photo graciously provided by Esther Kirby, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

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