That pink thing
When I was pregnant with Jordan, I was ADAMANT that I keep my little baby daughter away from the color pink. I hated the color. I didn’t want to force my child into some kind of gender assigned color coordination. It was wrong. My child was going to wear green and yellow and heck, BLUE but you were not going to put her in pink.
Until she was born.
Oh my. When she was born, some of her clothes didn’t fit right because of her little arm. Her little arm would pop out of those stretchy necklines… And I worried about her getting cold. So we bought outfits with zippers up to the neck instead. My mom bought pink… And I suddenly melted. My little girl looked so DANG cute in pink.
Now when I go through her pictures, there are very few without pink. Every time I take her into work, my news director makes fun of me. It’s true. Jordan has so much pink. I completely folded. I relented. I accepted a little piece of girliness when Jordan was born. Now I’m pretty accepting. I still wouldn’t wear pink all the time for myself. But Miss Jordan looks good.
By the way, Jordan got to return to school today. Her brother isn’t AS sick as yesterday, but I’m staying home with him today to make sure he gets better.
Oh girl! You know me. I was NOT a pink girl. Not at all. Not at all. I didn’t wear pink, on purpose anyway, until I was pregnant. Then, something really weird happened. I fell in love with pink. Of course, I had a boy. I thought it was just the pregnancy hormones. However, I’m not pregnant, but I’m still wearing pink. Go figure.