This past week Justin Bieber turned 17. I know this because I was informed by Valentina that Justin was born on a Tuesday (“Just like me, mommy!”). On that day I wore a purple sweater. I explained to Valentina that I didn’t wear it to “honor” him, but to make her happy since the day before she had been Facebooking for everyone to wear purple on March 1. Besides, I didn’t want to be the cause of her morning pout.
I admit I can see how very cute the kid is. He was adorable at two when pounding on his toy drum set. What mother can resist his baby cuteness? I will say that my baby was way cuter but I’m big enough to admit that The Biebs was cute from the get-go. I tell Valentina he’s so pretty he could be a girl.
Anyway, I get fiercely defensive about Valentina and her crush. I tell her father to just let her be when he shows signs of getting sick and tired.
Valentina has NINE posters of Bieber on a wall of her bedroom. When she was a little girl (how I miss her!) she was into The Cheetah Girls, even Miley, and most recently Selena Gomez (not anymore because she “stole” Justin from her).
Her posters made me remember my dad’s reaction when I started with my crushes. In my day, it was all about Juan Gabriel, Julio Iglesias, Camilo Sesto, Sandro, Raphael and Emmanuel. They were very famous in Mexico in the late seventies and eighties. And I had their posters on the wall of my room. Until the day my dad walked in saw my lineup of famous hotties and without saying a word tore them off my wall. I was very saddened but he was my law and ultimately, the one I wanted most to please. I guess he had a hard time accepting that his Tita was growing up and no longer just his little girl.
Somewhere in my heart I know I can’t do that to Valentina. I don’t want to encourage her to be star struck. To the contrary, I want her to know how inaccessible these famous people are. I want her to know that getting to meet Justin is as probable as me winning the lottery and not living in debt. But her heart is also involved and I believe all these feelings over The Biebs are a natural part of her transitioning into adolescence. So this is what I honor when admiring her posters and her purple shirts and phone wallpaper, and the Justin music she constantly listens to on her phone. I even helped her think (hopefully with some semblance of objectivity) through the points she argued with one Nicholas Jacques on Facebook and whom suddenly stopped the debate when Valentina questioned the “artistic value” of Britney Spears, whom apparently he really likes. We're still waiting on his reply.
Any time I tell Valentina about the possibility of Justin knowing that she likes him, what does she tell me? Mommy, NEVER SAY NEVER!
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