MARY POPPINS
A coworker once told me that despite the fact that her daughters were now 13, 15 and 17, she had stayed awake past midnight on the night before Valentine’s Day setting up the traditional family scavenger hunt. Over her second cup of caffeine, she was lamenting the fact that she had started so many of these large and labor-intensive traditions when her girls were young, that she now felt compelled to continue.
My doppelganger Mary Poppins arrived in our cramped black-and-white tiled bathroom one night when my daughters were in the tub. Young enough to fit in it together and old enough to play with bath toys, they were having way too much fun to wash their hair. Again. A successful shampoo has always been an elusive goal in our house, requiring much cajoling, rewarding, crying, limit-setting, and general parental calisthenics. Desperate to avoid a battle, on a whim I stood outside the bathroom door and made loud swishing, wind-like noises, and sashayed into the bathroom, proclaiming that I was Mary Poppins, and I had come to wash their hair. I said this in a loud, crescendo, certainly inaccurate British accent.
Silence. (this is rare for my girls)
Undeterred, I explained again that I was Mary Poppins, that I had flown in from England using my umbrella, and my job was to sail around the world helping children take their baths and specifically, wash their hair. Hitting my stride, I described the large yellow dress that I was wearing, my favorite types of shampoo, and that I was actually their mother’s sister, which is why we looked so much alike. While I love the idea of comparing myself to the young, talented and gorgeous Julie Andrews, I suspect my kids think of my Mary Poppins as more akin to The Magic Schoolbus‘s Miss Frizzle, with crazy dresses and unconventional teaching practices.
The beauty of kids is that they will go along with just about anything if it is fun and silly enough. So, finding their voices, they asked me a few more questions, and then they started talking non-stop, introducing me to their lives, their day on the playground with the biggest slide in the world, their favorite princess movies, why they hated to wash their hair. It was seamless, they explained it all to me as if I really were another person! Plus, now having had a spoonful of sugar, they were willing, even eager to wash their hair with this “new” person helping them.
Through the years Mary Poppins has returned to the black-and-white tiled bathroom a number of times. Never often enough for her presence to be routine. Often the girls have asked for her, usually on nights when I am so exhausted that I can’t even remember how to approximate a British accent.
Most recently she showed up this summer, at the request of my two younger girls. Ever striving to be unique and independent, as soon as Mary Poppins arrived, my oldest marched into the bathroom to tell me that I was being crazy and that I needed to stop. Fighting giggles, I stayed in character as she explained that I was not Mary Poppins, but just weird, and then left in a huff.
But then a few weeks later my oldest and I were home alone, and she was due for a shampoo. While she is now old enough to take a shower and wash her hair by herself, before she started she softly asked if I could call Mary Poppins. Surprised and touched, and realizing that requests like this won’t happen for much longer, I complied, and Mary Poppins came blowing through.
As I stood in the steamy bathroom and my oldest washed her own hair, I listened to her talk. Not to boring old mom, but to someone else. I heard all about her plans for her upcoming school year in Costa Rica, and about how she was thinking about learning more Spanish, about the different activities she wanted to try. It was the first I had heard of any of it!
I have always heard that as your girls grow into teenagers, you need to be sure that they have a village of adults that they can turn to for help, in the likely event that they won’t want to talk to you. Could it be that just pretending to be another person could work in a pinch?! Could this possibly continue into the teen years? If so, this is the best tradition I have ever created, and it will absolutely be worth staying up after midnight for.