Pink, is my favorite crayyyonnn...

(Becky! This blogs for you!! LOL!!)

Colby has gotten so much more blog time than Elizabeth, so this blog is for her, too.

Six years ago, when I found out I was having a baby girl, I was ecstatic. I could not have been happier. There was only one issue.

I hated pink.

Hated it. Pink was not allowed in my house. That was sincerely ok with Marty, since he is not a fan of pink himself. We painted the baby room blue and white, and put up a classic pooh border. I bought blue classic pooh bedding. There was not an ounce of pink in the room.

Until the baby shower. What is it with people that they think that if you are having a girl, everything must be pink and frilly and bow-ey? I am not a frilly kind of gal. Everything that could be taken back, was, and I bought plain, no frills clothing. In green, and blue, and yellow... Blue jeans and red tops. Little teeny black slacks, and white button ups.

My MIL did send one pink sleeper with Paddington Bear on the side, and the material was so soft, like powder in my hands. I kept that one. That one pink outfit. I figured she would have grown out of it by the time she was able to pick and choose colors, thus the "pink crisis" would be averted.

Boy was I wrong. Instead of the polished, no frills girl that I ordered, a princess arrived. No matter how hard I pushed the camouflage capri's on her, she clamored for the pink ones... with glitter... and lace. Oh my. Even better if you can find something with pink feathers. Or flowers for buttons. Petticoats!! Dresses!! Pink shoes!!

When she was about two, she invented this whole pink world. It was hysterical. If she asked for a toy and I refused to buy it for her, she did not pitch a fit... she would very calmly look at me and say "Dats okey. I gots one at my pink house." and she would calmly walk away from the doll, or book, or toy that she was asking for with such a grownup air of nonchalance that I almost wanted to run over and grab her and say "OK!! Mommy was just kidding! You get to pick TWO dolls!!"

Even her teachers at her preschool started asking me about this "pink house" that she had. Over the next few months, it got bigger. Not only was her pink house full of toys, she also had 7 dogs, 1 cat, 6 brothers and 6 sisters at her pink house. And she would tell stories about all of them. "Yesserday at my pink house, my dog Lois grabbed a bawl away from my brother Davey. It was sooooo funny!" Or "My sisser Mandy got a bad cut on her keener. (her word for finger.) It bwed and it bwed. We took her to the Dr and she got a banaid." The stories got bigger and bigger. My aunt asked her one day how you got to the pink house, and she replied "Well, you gots to walk in the gween woods till you get to the pink woods, then turn wight." We asked her how long you had to walk and she said "I dunno. I drive my pink car, I don't walk." (Marty just walked up behind me and said "OH!! The pink house! I miss the pink house!!")

Somewhere along the line, as she grew up, the pink house stories that were once so abundant began drifting away. At first I didn't notice it, and when I did, I would prompt her. "So, what is going on at your pink house today?" and she (I think totally for my benefit) would tell me some story or another to appease me.

Until Colby came. I guess with the arrival of the real baby brother she had waited for for so long, the imaginary pink house lost a bit of appeal for her. I remember the death of a dream like it was yesterday. Colby was about a month old, and I was still a bit in the throes of PPD. Elizabeth was having to drop out of daycare, and I was feeling like a bad mother for that, and both babies were growing too fast for me. One night while Marty was working, and Colby was sleeping in the bouncy chair beside the bed, Elizabeth and I cuddled up reading a book. After we finished the book, it occurred to me that I hadn't heard anything about the pink house in... I have no idea how long. I gave her a hug, and said "Tell me a story about your pink house before we go to bed."

She looked at me for a long moment, as if deciding how to break it to me. "Well, mom... I can't." she sighed. "Why not??" I asked, almost fearfully. I don't need this right now. I need my baby to tell me a story about the pink house!!

"Well, mom... see... the pink house burned down." "WHAT??? It burned??" I am horrified for many reasons. Maybe this is Marty's fireman influence coming through. "Yep. It did. The woods burned too."

"What about the dogs?? What about the cat??"

"Well, they all got sick and died. That was before the fire though." (Our dog, that Marty and I had had since our first year of marriage, had recently had a stroke and died.... I guess that is where that came from.)

"What about the pink car???"

"Well, it was kind of crappy. It broke down." (CRAPPY!! My word!!)

I am afraid to ask the next question. After a deep breath, I blurt out, "What about the CHILDREN?"

"Oh, they all got adopted. They have all new moms and dads. I asked them to come live here, but we didn't have enough room."

And that was that. No more pink house stories. Now when we bring up the pink house, she rolls her eyes and says, "You are embarrassing me!! I was just a baby then!!" How sad. I miss the pink house, too.

But, some good has come from my little pink fairy. I have come to love pink. I search out pink whenever I am buying her something because I know how much she still loves it. I have even bought a couple of pink things for myself, and you know what? I like it. Pink looks good on me. It makes me feel girlie... I am not used to such. And in the next couple of months, I am going to give Elizabeth Colby's room, and put Colby in Elizabeth's room so that I can give her the pink room of her dreams... the one that only a few short years ago would be a nightmare for me. And I am excited about it. I can't wait. It's going to be so awesome.

Hopefully she doesn't decide that pink is too babyish before then.