Friday, August 13, 2010

Ear ye, ear ye

I see no reason to poke a couple of holes in perfectly good flesh.

My daughter, and apparently the rest of the planet, disagrees.

She just turned 10, and she decided she really, really, really, really - no really - wanted her ears pierced. I have been against this since day one, as I am a father, and it should be in my nature to be against anyone poking holes in my children.

My wife and I had discussed the ear piercing timeline on numerous occasions. My wife said she was comfortable somewhere around 10ish. I said I was comfortable some time around when the earth crashed into the sun. Don't get me wrong: I'm not anti-piercing. I'm just anti-piercing when it comes to my daughter.

So on her 10th birthday, we had this conversation:

ALLIE: Daddy, I'm going to do something today that is going to make you mad.

ME: You're going to cheer for Auburn?

ALLIE: Daddy, I'm getting my ears pierced today.

ME: Roll Tide. And no.

She stared at me for a second, contemplating whether to go with sad-daddy's-little-girl eyes or foot-stomping abject defiance. She went with the prior. "It's up to your mother," I said.

A short while later, we were in Claire's, which is the single greatest store in the history of 10-year-old-kind. If they were to make a Claire's equivalent for me, it would be called The Bama Football, Bacon, Beer and Baywatch Store.

Despite her resoluteness in wanting her ears pierced, she showed some signs of nervousness. And by signs of nervousness, I mean she said, "OK, I don't want my ears pierced." Then a split second later, "OK, I do." I, of course, helped by saying things such as, "They should be done heating up the rusty pen they use to poke your ear."

Ha! Of course I didn't say that. I would never have done that. My wife was in earshot.

Allie climbed into the chair, and the woman came over to prep her ears. She had picked out a lovely little set of earrings in her birthstone, which is whatever August's birthstone is. The woman cleaned Allie's ears with a little alcohol wipe, and then marked each ear with a purple dot.

"It's to help her aim when she gets a running start," I assured Allie.

The woman then took a little white gunlike thing and told Allie that she just had to check one more thing on her ear and to hold still while she just looked and CLICK!

Allie had a startled look. "Wait, what..."

The woman said, "Hang on..."

Other ear. CLICK!

"Wait, did you... Ow!!!"

And, just like that, ears were pierced. Allie looked at the woman, who handed her a mirror. "See?" she said. And there they were - pierced ears. She said it hurt a little bit, but the look on her face when she stared at her earrings showed that it was worth it.

She is now taking part in a detailed ear care regimen that involves cleaning and turning the earrings and commenting every 11 minutes that her ears are pierced. She also has found out that, when you have newly pierced ears that you are very proud of, your little brother will repeatedly say, "Allie, your earrings fell out." And every time she takes the bait.

So despite my reluctance to let her get her ears pierced, it makes me happy to see how happy it makes her. She is so proud of them, and it does make her feel quite grown up. In hindsight, I'm glad she got them pierced. And, as I look forward, I think I'm good with additional piercings. As soon as the earth crashes into the sun.

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

Big Ten

Ten years ago, 9-11 was just the number you called in an emergency.

Ten years ago, there had only been one Bush presidency.

Ten years ago, Mel Gibson was everyone's favorite, fun-loving, good-guy actor starring in "What Women Want."

And 10 years ago, I became a father.

Wow, what a difference a decade makes.

Allison Nicole came into this world on Aug. 6, shortly after 2 in the morning. She entered the world in a manner which would be consistent with how she would carry herself in life: late.

She was supposed to be here in July. My wife went to the hospital to be induced and 24 hours later, no baby. This was not how it was supposed to work, my wife said in a tone that cannot, by any objective standard, be considered nice. We were sent home to wait. And wait. And find excuses to go to the store, lest I be reminded whose fault this was and how it was hot and how AN INDUCTION MEANS A BABY COMES OUT OF YOU!!!

But eventually she made her debut, and we even have a picture that I would certainly consider a rarity: A baby 20 minutes old, her parents, and all six of her grandparents.

As for this birthday, there is some debate in our house if Aug. 6 is the actual start of double digits. If you asked her, she has been 10 for several months. I noticed this a while back when someone asked her age.

ALLIE: I'm 10.

ME: No, you're not.

ALLIE: I am, too, practically...

And then she did a little hair flip for emphasis.

Yes, my little girl is quickly steamrolling toward teenager. And, as someone who has three older sisters and got to witness all three of them as teens, I say to you: Help me.

Ha, I kid. Of course I look forward to my daughter's continuing maturation and growing independence. Why, I can practically feel the celebration bubbling inside of me just thinking about her dating and driving and going to college and, that does it, she gets locked in her room.

OK, deep breaths. Still a ways off from that. Let's just focus on being 10 for now. I know I have a lot to look forward to, as she still somewhat likes being around me. Granted, she has developed the "Dad, you're embarrassing me" look when we're in public. It's that look where she purses her lips, wrinkles her brow, tilts her head and, through clenched teeth, mouths "DAD!" Just one example of when I have seen the face: When I used the cute little nickname I have called her all of her life - Alliebear - on a school field trip.

I also have to be cautious about what I write in my columns. My daughter on occasion will read my column (hey, somebody has to), and I will see her slowly lower the paper. "Daaaaa-aaaaaad," she will say in a low tone. "Why did you write that?"

So I try to be sensitive to the concerns of a tween. I don't want to make her unnecessarily embarrassed. Granted, there is necessary embarrassment, which will include such gems as me singing to a Hannah Montana song when her friends are in the car or suggesting that I will show up to the next school dance to put on a break dancing demonstration. Always nice to be offering these suggestions and glance in the rearview mirror to see the head tilt, the teeth clench...

And while a decade is under the belt, I always look at my kids' birthdays not with longing for the past or lamenting the stages that are behind us. Rather, I see each birthday as another step to an important life stage. There are so many wonderful moments awaiting her in life, and I want to be there to share them, to congratulate her, to cheer her on, or just to have her know that I'm there. And, because this is life, there are bad times coming. I certainly hope they are few and far between, but I want to be there to console her, to cheer her up, to stand strong for her and beside her, and just to have her know that I'm there. She's only 10 now, but she's still my little girl. And she'll always be my Alliebear. Just don't tell her I told you...