I Love Full Circle Moments

I LOVED Barbies.

I was so disappointed when my friends stopped playing with them. I played in secret a few more years. Until finally one day, I just…stopped.

The magic was gone.

I didn’t give them another thought for over twenty five years. And in that time, I grew up and got married and finished medical school and began raising four little boys.

But then…

I had a little girl.

This summer for her birthday she unwrapped Babysitters Club Skippers with babies and kids and all the gear. Even a teeny tiny wipes dispenser that really gives out little white squares of wipes!

She was delighted!!

And my heart leapt a little.

(See, I’m old enough I played Barbies before they ever created kids or babies, so I used my Strawberry Shortcake dolls or happy meal toys to create ‘kids.’ I ALWAYS wanted babies for my Barbies.)

“We would’ve LOVED these!!” I told my sister.

And now…

My daughter asks me to play every day.

Last week she stopped mid-play and said, “Momma?? I need a ‘mom’ Barbie.”

And I suppose I could’ve bought her one. But for some reason, I called my mom. “Are my old Barbies still up in the attic?”

The next morning, she sent me a picture of all my Barbies dressed in their original outfits sitting next to one another out on the deck with Ken and Dallas, my horse.

Again, my heart leapt because…there they were!

Peaches and Cream. Dream Date Barbie. Pretty ‘n Pink. And all the rest!!

My mom washed the clothes and wiped down my old Barbie furniture from the Dream House and sent everything our way.

When we unwrapped that big box, my daughter squealed!! “Momma, did you know they would be this PRETTY???”

I turned my beloved Barbies over in my hands a few times and ran my finger down the braids tied with my old hair ties as I told my little girl their names. Then I watched with pride as she put babies into the arms of the dolls I loved. (Gosh, they’d been waiting to be mothers for so long!!)

It felt like a full-circle moment.

Because there with my little girl…

I couldn’t stop thinking about my own mom.

My mom in her work suit with the broad shoulder pads coming in after a long day at work. “Momma, will you play Barbies with me?”

She’d stick some hamburger in the microwave for dinner then slip off her panty hose and lie next to me on the floor with her eyes half-closed as she held up a sagging Barbie. I could never imagine why she was so tired. And my face probably flickered with the same look of disappointment my daughter gives me when she says, “Come on, Momma. Plaaaaay.”

I thought about Christmases. And the Barbie Dream House on Christmas morning.

I thought about how she always tried so hard and the way I sometimes hoped for a more perfect version. You know, a mom who said just the right things. Gave me just enough space. Showed up at just the right time in just the right way.

I thought about how often my face probably still flickers with a bit of disappointment.

Then I thought about her and my dad digging around in the attic.

I imagined her pulling those nearly 40-year-old toys out of dusty boxes. Washing and dressing them. Remembering exactly who wore which dress. Then boxing them up for my little girl who squealed when she saw them.

And I realized in that full-circle moment, if she’d been the ‘perfect’ mother I never would've learned how to be human.

How to be so very tired…and show up anyway.

How to keep trying even when the look on my daughter’s face says I’m not doing it quite right.

How to wait patiently to become exactly the mother my children need. Even if it takes 40 years.

Now whenever I hear, “Momma, will you play Barbies with me?”

I’ll lay on the floor and hold up a sagging Barbie with my eyes half-closed…

And think of her.

My fully human mom.