“Mom, look, Ariel’s going to marry Prince Eric and he’s defeated Ursula the sea witch and now they’re going to live happily ever after”, Cameron said, eyes all-bright and beaming at the prospect of yet another animated fairytale coming to its conclusion of sweethearts and rainbows.
I’m stuck questioning myself in this myriad of fairytales. I have always said that I would raise Cameron honestly. Protected from the nastiness of underbelly of life, as best I could but, honestly nonetheless. So how do I tame this wild belief in fairytales and demon-slaying princes?
The truth is she’s far too young to be jaded by my cynicism. My heart breaks though, when I think of the future. Of teenage crushes and the emotional crushing that beckons beyond that. Of love notes passed under desks and then crumpled into the bin once the infatuation passes.
How do I temper this fairytale mind? I don’t live the fairytale life. True, we’re happy as our little family of Mama and Cam, prancing around and singing ABBA loudly, whilst pigging out on ice-cream with sprinkles.
But the thing that sticks in my throat, beyond Cameron’s DVD collection, is my own collection of love stories and soppy chick flicks. There’s a moment in Love Actually that sums up the extraordinary thing. What’s the extraordinary thing, I hear you ask? It’s that moment where that man of your dreams, or flavour of the week, does the extraordinary thing. In Love Actually, it’s when Keira Knightley is serenaded by flashcard by her husband’s best friend at her front door. In Bridget Jones, it’s when Mark Darcy rescues Bridget from an impending doom in a Thai jail.
That’s the extraordinary thing. Every great love story has it. It’s when the Prince searches the country, desperate for his glass-slipper mate.
But, to me, the thing is. The thing is, that being swept off your feet often means you lose your ground. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of extraordinary things happen in my life – I have been incredibly lucky and blessed in that department. But, real love? Enduring beyond the extraordinary thing? Can I really tell my daughter that it does exist?
The truth is that I can’t answer that question. To me, the extraordinary thing has to be lived and loved every day. That’s enduring love. That’s the love I see between a friend of mine and her husband. That’s the love I want for my daughter, one day, when I let her out of the house. The extraordinary thing should be every day.
Maybe I’m setting impossible standards for my child. I’d like to think I’m not but, life experience shows me that I might just be. I’d like to think I’m promoting an attitude of not compromising herself for anyone else. I’d like to think I want to set the bar so high, that her prince (or princess, I’m not fussy) is truly worthy of her immense and awe-inspiring love.
They better be. Or else I’m setting my stun-gun to “annihilate”.
Totally agree! I had a ‘mom of the week (NOT!)’ moment a little while ago when I threw the Cinderella book across the floor shrieking – that doesn’t exist! Whoopsie – MOTHER FAIL! Hehehe. But yes, it SHOULD be an everyday thing. My current squeeze does little things that show me he loves me daily. Works for me. 🙂
I believe that if you don’t aim high, you won’t achieve much in life… so I really believe that these fantastic stories are character building, and essential to growing up.
I refused to “settle” and I got me my prince charming.
I think you’re doing an awesome job. Little girls, no matter how old they may be, are allowed to believe in fairy tales.
xxx
The bar can never be too high.