How to Be a Queen

(Disclaimer: This post will make very little sense to you if you are unfortunate enough to not be acquainted with Ian Falconer's Olivia.)

Olivia and I go way back.

 

Actually, she hasn't a clue who I am, but I have loved her with all my heart ever since she moved the cat. (For those of you who are wondering, why yes I did name my second daughter after a cartoon pig.) (And yes, they are shockingly similar in personality.) I first discovered her as a teenager while reading to two of my favorite small humans (who are not small anymore, but rather breathtaking young women.) Olivia gave us many perfect, joyful moments together and in return I gave her a spot in my heart.

Skipping forward a few years, my college roommate gave me a stuffed Olivia for my birthday one year and logically she accompanied me to Haifa, Israel after graduation to work at the Baha'i World Centre. Where I met my future husband. Before Sisay and I got married, I was very forthcoming with him: there was no me without her. He accepted, though in retrospect he had no idea what he was getting into.    

Not very far into the deal it turned out sharing his wife with a stuffed animal wasn't actually working for him. It wasn’t his fault. How could he--how could anyone--have predicted such a thing? It just doesn't often come up in life. Who knew it was even possible for a grown man to be jealous of a stuffed animal? 

One afternoon, when Olivia and I were having too good of a time together, Sisay lost it. ‘Her or me!’ he declared. ‘Either she goes or I go!’

I wasted no time. I took Olivia in one hand and repeatedly slammed her body in a cabinet door. 

At which point his true feelings, previously masked, bubbled to the surface. ‘I didn’t mean like that!’ he said as he grabbed her from my hands and cradled her. 

But it was too late. I had killed her. 

This is a true story. 

Like actually. Except for a slight distortion of the emotions at play. (He wasn’t jealous. I don’t think.) But there was something disconcerting about his wife playing so exuberantly with a toy. And it did make him uncomfortable. Naturally. I’m uncomfortable right now telling you about my love affair with a 3" plush pig. 

But the thing is. I miss her. I really really miss her. And by her I mean me. I still have the doll. She’s seen better days, yes. A winter spent buried under snow and moldy leaves in our garden one year has left permanent mildew stains all over her body. But the day I slammed Olivia in the cabinet was the day I killed my inner child. And I want her back. I want to play the way my kids play. I want to laugh more and run more and play more hide and seek. I want to wake up in the morning and be excited because, hey, it’s a day! But mostly I want to slip into those crazy giddy moods I used to have where my voice would suddenly sound like a three-year-old and everything was hysterical. (These were the moods that freaked my spouse out.) (Exacerbated by the fact that a family member has bipolar.) (These were also the moods in which I felt completely uninhibited and utterly hilarious.) 

I want to feel that kind of joy again. 

And here is where Olivia reenters my life in a big way. Remember when I came to the realization that I thought I was a princess? And then to the realization that I had to stop waiting for a prince to come rescue me? It's very important to know who you don't want to be. But it's also pretty important to know who you do want to be. In Olivia and the Fairy Princesses, Olivia is going through an identity crisis. She can't figure out who she wants to be until she suddenly has an epiphany while lying in bed one night:

'I know...I want to be queen.'

I think she's on to something. Queens are in the business of sovereignty. Plus they're girls. So basically they're all powerful bosses who have the capacity to create life. That's exactly what I need to do. I'm going to become queen, take the reigns of my own life, reincarnate my inner child, and reclaim my joy. 

My real children deserve that.