Raising a Non-Tomboy

"Mama? Does this Clinique Black Honey Lipstain really look good on anyone?"

We have a budding makeup artist on our hands, folks.

Really, it's probably more accurate to say that we have a budding artist on our hands, considering that today E.V. pulled one of my paintbrushes from her hidden stash, paraded around with it proudly and then strummed her dad's guitar (rather melodically) with it--as her dress slipped down to around her waist. (Hey, nudity has always had its role in performance art.) But, for the sake of today's post, let's focus on the makeup aspect of her interests...

I suppose it's my fault. I have this weird thing where I physically can't apply makeup standing up. Since Amityville is low on bathroom space, that means I've taken to plopping myself down in the middle of our bedroom each morning with my makeup bag. Emma Vance always plops down next to me, rummaging through my case to see all the lovely little things Mommy owns. It's been this way since she's been mobile--almost seven months now--and up until recently, it's been rather innocent. HOWEVER, now that it's occurred to her what makeup actually is, i.e. fun grown up stuff that makes lovely marks of beautiful color, she's been more curious about it. It started out slowly with her handing me my makeup ("Thank you, dear. What a good helper you are!"), and then evolved into her trying to apply my makeup FOR me, which was cute until she'd jab my eye with an eyelash curler and then squeal out of pride. She started to become even more intrigued, carrying my powder around like a precious bauble and grabbing at my mascara wand as I applied it (and then, of course, trying to lick the mascara off her hands--logically).

The real trouble began when she realized that some makeup items had simple pull-off tops, tops that even a baby could operate! I give her props--the first time I found her pilfering my makeup all alone with her newfound uncapping skill, she had undone a lipstick and correctly managed to apply it to (near) her lips; on the other hand, shortly thereafter she mistook eyeliner for lipliner, and, well, let's just say that day she learned the Goth look isn't really "her." I'm pretty sure she's eaten a bit of my concealer stick and perhaps even some chapstick along the way. Oh, and then there was the time I forgot I left my makeup out, only to have her come running up to hand me my eyeshadow--minus the flip top and plus a few claw marks. (It took a loooong bath time to get her nails to not look like she'd clawed a dirt pile for fun...) With all of this makeup exploration, I've tried to take it in stride, although I do admit Amityville's poor carpet is taking the brunt of the abuse. Sorry, landlord! {nervous, apologetic laughter}

I wasn't really a tomboy or a super girly-girl growing up, and I've always wondered how long it would take to see which side of the fence E.V. would fall on. Well, here we are, nearly 14 months in, and her makeup obsession--coupled with her love for my jewelry and closet and her proclivity to declare "Pretty!" to anything she sees and likes (including her own reflection)--means I think we have a girly-girl on our hands. And I do have to admit, I'm okay with that, although my makeup collection may have another opinion on the matter...

Creating an all-in-one lipstick-eyeliner. (She's got a creative streak, this one.)

"Um, dear, I think you missed your eyes by about six inches..."