Mismatched Socks

Yesterday, as we were about to leave for a family trip to Target, Gabriella made a grand entrance into the foyer, announcing that she was ready to leave.  In a dress that was a tad too short, wool shoes that barely fit because they had seen their prime during colder months, and mismatched rockstar socks, she was surely a sight.  So proud of what she had put together, I couldn't help, but be proud too.  After all, she is getting better at dressing herself from head to toe...a clear sign that she is growing up.  Tear.

I must be honest, though.  For a second (ok, maybe longer), I thought about asking her to change.  Having this thought cross my mind made me check myself.  Why would I ask her to change?  What would be the purpose? At what point in our lives do we stop feeling confident in mismatched socks and out of season shoes?  At what point in our lives do we learn to care about what others view as acceptable or appropriate?  

For example, I have stayed away from public pools for a long time...since I had Gabriella.  For those of you that keep asking me to join you, now you know why.  :)  My fear is that someone might see that I have not been able to have three children and maintain my early 20s weight.  Shocker.  Why do I care?  Why does it matter?  Why can't I wear the things that make me self conscious with the same kind of pride that accompanies GG as she wears mismatched socks?  Ugh.  I wish I had that kind of confidence.  The kind of confidence a 3 year old has...

She'd never know that I want to be like her in that regard, though.  And I suppose if I'm being a good example of self-confidence and assurance, she never will.  It can just be our little secret...  hehehe 

I hate to think of the day when Gabriella starts matching her socks.  Until that day comes, I will gladly see God in odd, mismatched pairs that will adorn her feet and be a cause of her smile.

Love,

Mary