I wish I could be all cynical and hate things like Disneyland and Anne Geddes calendars and cancer stories about your mom and a lime popsicle and vapid romance novels. At least I do really hate half of those things.
If I ever started smoking (I have no immediate plans to) it’d only be so I could be like the too-cool and unsentimental Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not. Or, if it must be Disney, that great cartoon villainess Cruella DeVille — what greater proof of cynicism than a desire to wear puppies?
I never thought I’d get married — too busy enjoying traumatic, unrequited crushes on the Adam who thought I was a shrew rather than the Adam who asked me to the junior prom. Wasn’t that a nasty shock, learning his last name after a friend of a friend had passed on the invitation from, simply, Adam.
And thanks to Cody Braithwaite for breaking my heart in 6th grade, and 7th grade, and 8th grade. Then my family moved. If you’d kept your promises of undying love in the 5th grade, my kids would be freakishly tall, and I might never have met Dick. I still have your family’s home phone number memorized, -5303. I think.
No, I planned to be a doctor or lawyer: the basic career options for someone with above-average grades and enough passion and imagination for absolutely nothing. Instead I found Prince Charming at 20 and popped out the first of three princess-pony-ballerinas at 23.
That early fairytale-ending imprinting can be impossible to shake, even when devoured alongside copious amounts of Andrew Lang and Hans Christian Anderson’s early reality-television-fairytale versions.
Happily ever after really is a lie. It’s irritating ever after and cheering up ever after, and ever after not packing the diaper bag (him), ever after moaning when we’re sick, ever after irrational tantrums (me), ever after making me laugh, ever after being interested in what interests him and what interests me.
At great risk of passing on the ever after virus, we took our girls to Enchanted at the dollar theater. Sally wore her Cinderella dress and laughed a lot: often with the audience, sometimes all by herself. Susan wore a Mrs. Santa costume from last Christmas and said the end was too scary. Spot screeched and tripped on fallen popcorn and slid around on old soda stains and screeched some more.
I looked over at Dick and saw him with Sally’s head on his shoulder, his arm around her. I felt all mushy inside, like I wanted to squeeze both of them to me forever and never let Sally grow up. And thinking that if only she can find a Prince Charming of her own like her dad, I will be happy to let her go. Maybe.
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Emily H. (2)
Marcy (2)
Beth (1)
Big Mamma Frog (1)
Brandi (1)
ohhhhh, sweet post. it is always nice to read things about fathers who love their children and blatantly let it show. and there’s something a little more special about a father with his daughter. guess i’ll never see that here, but aaron is pretty great with our boys.
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I want to show my girls Enchanted so they can see one more princess who sings while she cleans rather than whines. In actuality, though, Giselle sings while animals around her cleans, right?
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That was a really sweet post…it even made me misty eyed. That was such a great movie…my favorite part was when she showed off her sewing skills.
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I believe in happy ever afters because my life is a happy ever after. maybe what it takes is a hard life in the beginning and then a perfect husband to make it all better. that’ my tale. the opposition in all things really helps. I’ve had the really bitter, so now i prize the really sweet.
you had a pretty easy life growing up, so now it seems hard at times…
sylwia
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Enchanted is one of the most romantic movies I’ve seen in a LONG time! But, my 7 year old daughter cried at the end because Giselle and Prince Edward didn’t get married. I tried to explain that they didn’t really even know each other and that Giselle and Robert were best friends and when you get married you should be best friends with your husband. I concluded with, “Honey, everyone was happy at the end of the movie.” to which she tearfully replied, “Except ME!”
She wants to buy it on DVD, so I’m thinking she’s okay with it now.
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T — well, he’ll always have the fathers and sons outings. too much to ask for one of each, i guess.
M — that is my favorite part. I wouldn’t mind having cockroaches and rats in the house, if they’d clean!
T — i liked the sewing out of curtains too (shades of Sound of Music also), but it did bother me that all of her dresses but the first one she sewed were so low-cut, off the shoulder. i mean, no cleavage because Amy Adams is like a size -2, but I want my girls to see beautiful, modest dresses. is that so much to ask? huh?
S — ?
JSM — i love your daughter’s response. so classic!! what does she think of Shrek (esp #2), where they decide to stay ogres instead of using the magic to be beautiful people?
i’m gonna have to get some of the songs off itunes too. and am counting down until the dvd is available.
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Make your own fortune cookies sounds like fun. I understand, too, about all the work to save so little.
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