On my seventh birthday I became the proud guardian of Barbie. My Barbie had long, dark brown hair, and when you moved her legs, her arms moved as well. I LOVED her. With the help of my crafty grandparents and parents, I created and collected boxes full of accessories for her. Clothes, furniture, and linens mostly. And of course Ken, the overly tan male barbie with plastic hair, followed by Skipper, the teenager, were later added to the family.
My sister had a collection of barbies as well. Her accessories were even cooler. She had the RV, the horse, and the bicycle, if I remember correctly. Together we played and played, inventing elaborate story lines and turning all sorts of household supplies into useful items. Dish pans were transformed into swimming pools, plant stands turned into stairs.
When I outgrew Barbie, she disappeared into the trunk in my room, along with all of her clothes and furniture. The trunk that held all of my childhood memorabilia. It has accompanied me to every home I have ever had, including the barn. Over the years I have sorted through it and thrown stuff away, but never Barbie or her luggage. I have always held on to her, secretly hoping I would one day have a daughter to pass her on to.
And that's what I did this weekend. Lola loves to play with the barbies at Carla's house but I hadn't given her mine yet. On Saturday, however, the two of us were upstairs reorganizing my clothes when I pulled out Barbie and everything that comes with her.
Lola was delighted! She has played with nothing else since. The glue on the furniture is old and not holding up anymore, and the pile of 'to be fixed' furniture is rapidly growing. But Barbie is still her fabulous self. She hasn't changed a bit!
It was so much fun watching Lola play with my barbies. We emptied the boxes onto the floor and she sat amidst it all, picking everything up and examining it carefully. She even took the barbies to bed with her.
I caught myself being very protective of Barbie though. I spoke of "my barbies" to Lola and watched her like a hawk. Thirty six years of guardianship is not easily surrendered. But the time has come to let go. I am not lending Barbie to Lola after all, I am passing her on, as I had always dreamed of. She is Lola's now, and she can do with her as she pleases.
Except cut her hair. Or polish her nails. Or use make-up on her. Or markers. Or crayons...
6 comments:
Stopping by from SITS...
My Barbies always had haircuts! I thought that was what you're supposed to do with Barbie! LOL!
This is so sweet, Hanneke. It makes me love you even more--Judy
Why am I logged in on my granddaughter, Emma's account?! Who knows what she's been doing on my computer! Judy
Stopping by from SITS...
Ah yes, passing on of Barbie to the next generation is a right of passage indeed. Good for you for making the leap. And yes, I would agree that there should be rules, such as no cutting of the luscious Barbie hair.
I had to stop by and say hi, after reading your comment on Days of Whine & Noses that you had your daughter at 41. I had my twin boys at 41 as well. I've always said they would either keep me young or kill me, and 14 years later I'm still here, so maybe that means I'm young!!
I didn't keep all my Barbie stuff (wish I had, since I had the #1 Barbie. She was born in 1959, when I was 5 years old),but even now I like to sew Barbie clothes, recreating all the original outfits that I couldn't afford back then. I totally understand why you can't completely let go of your Barbies:)
I LOVED Barbie when I was a kid. Just read the above comment...I'm 38 (almost 39) with no children. I keep hoping maybe a miracle will happen but my boyfriend suffers from depression (which most of the time is under control) and isn't sure he can handle raising another child from birth. He has a daughter already. Anyway, I feel like the odds are against me but you and the above commenter give me hope.
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