To that bitchy lady in Home Depot…

About a year ago, I quit being affected by those disapproving looks at the grocery store… until, yesterday.

Yesterday, we were in Home Depot picking up some paint samples.  First of all, picking out paint colors stresses me out.  How many freaking shades of yellow can there be?  Bring along two cranky kids with you, and you’re asking for it, right?

It started out when I let Sophia down from the shopping cart while I was speaking with a group of men about picking out blinds.  After losing Sophia around the corner, I let her know the consequences of what would happen if that happened again.  The men who were consulting with me all either nodded or said, “I totally understand.  My kids do the same thing.”  

Moments later she disappeared around the corner again, testing me.  I grabbed her and put her in the cart–consequences for leaving my line of sight.  The screaming and falling apart began.  I finished my business in the blinds department, and we quickly moved on to pick up the paint and get out of the store.

I was un-phased by Sophia.  She acted bad; she got consequences.  This is my every day.  But, the horrible glances I got!  The woman getting our paint gave each of the kids a sticker.  It was nice, but it did nothing for Sophia’s meltdown.  She begged me to get out and “try again.”  (That’s her new thing.)  After I said, “No.  You ran away from me in the store.  Your consequence is that you will stay in the cart until we leave, ” she continued her yelling fit.  Just as we approached the cashier, an older woman with the most disdainful look of disapproval I have EVER seen scowled directly at me.  It cut me.  I wasn’t angry at her.  I didn’t yell, “Whachoo lookin’ at, B#%$^?” like I wanted to, I just stared back at her with wonder, watched her pass by, and then laughed out loud.  Her look was deeply passionate and so angry.

I am a GOOD mother!  My daughter ran away from me in the store.  I will not tolerate the possibility of her getting lost or kidnapped or otherwise hurt in a home improvement store.  So, I am giving her the consequences!  Yah, she’s screaming.  She’s 3.  She doesn’t like consequences any better than you do.  But, I am a GOOD mother!  I am doing what is best for her.  Control my daughter?  Is that what your disapproving look says to me?  Well, Scowl-face, thank you.  I’m doing just that.  I am teaching her how to behave.  I am sorry that it intruded on your day.  

Why is it that a kid’s tantrum can cause passerbys to go so bitchy on a stranger?  I haven’t been able to get her ugly mugg out of my mind.  Why is that?  Do I feel sorry for her?  Maybe, I wonder what’s going on with her that she would intentionally throw such a look at me.  Or, maybe it’s the fact that I say it doesn’t bother me, but it clearly does.

Well, then there was today.  Sunflower Market was our fourth stop this morning.  We picked up some groceries on double savings Wednesdays.  Crowded market, but worth the extra savings.  Sophia was upset with me for not letting her ride in the cart since Abby was in the baby seat, so I let her ride in the large part of the cart.  She was pretty tired from being dragged around 3 other stores…  About 5 minutes into her joyride amongst my groceries, I saw that she had pulled the top off of our gallon of milk and was holding it!  As I saw the milk about to slosh out, I snapped at her, “You can’t do that!”  I ripped the milk and cap from her hands and yanked her up out of the cart and onto the ground.  Sophia, of course, went into meltdown, i.e. Screamfest 2011.  This woman walking by only feet from me gave me the warmest knowing look–a kind smile and eyes that said, “I understand how the same kids you love so dearly can also infuriate you.”  I wanted to hug this woman!  How is it that two women can act so entirely different to similar situations?  I could blame it on the scowling woman’s age:  She looked to be in her 60s, where the woman in Sunflower looked to be in her early 30s.  I could blame it on the days they were personally having, their upbringing, their own parenting expectations (or lack of them).  But this is nothing new.  You know if you’re a mom of young children, you get these looks all. the. time.  Why is it that other people’s kids’ behavior create such a reaction in onlookers?

Unfortunately, I can’t deny that I am completely un-phased by a passerby’s scowl or smile.  After all, we live in a community.  And, we all must want each other to succeed… right?

To those women looking onto young mothers trying to parent in public:  Stop thinking about yourself and how much the crying bothers you.  Think about that mother.  Think about how much she wants to raise a respectable member of society.  Think about how she disciplines because she loves.  Avert your eyes if you must.  But, if you can muster up enough unselfishness, give her a look of compassion. Don’t you want someone to smile at you when your trying your hardest to be the best you can be?

Lemme brag on my children.

For those of you that only come to my blog for my children…  You know who you are.  😉

My girls have had a complete turn-around in behavior lately.  Sophia has turned into this wonderfully sweet little girl.  She’s acting like a baby so much less.  She’s throwing fits less.  She’s back-talking less.  She’s playing by herself and with her sister very well.  I’ve seen her talk to Abby, consider her needs, and try to help.  I’ve been brought messages like “Abby told me she pooped.”  I’ve seen her get her feelings hurt because of Abby’s attitude.  I’ve seen her feel love when Abby says “sorry” to her.  I’ve seen her choose to do the right thing (share, apologize, hug, etc.) all by herself.  I’ve seen her offer to help me and actually help me.  I’ve seen how much it means to her for me to let her help me. I’ve seen her persevere in learning to read and ride a tricycle.  I’ve seen her broken heart when a friend chose to play with others instead of her.  I’ve seen her memorize bible verses and sing new songs that I didn’t teach her.  I’ve seen her love her daddy more than anyone in the whole world.

Now Abby.  She is now a toddler!  If she wasn’t already…. She’s just started playing by herself and is finally “into” something.  She’s super into babies and wants to do everything with babies.  She now must take one (firmly gripped with a bottle in hand) EVERYWHERE we go.  Feed the baby, change the baby, put the baby in night-night.  All by herself, without direction from me.  I have heard this child use new words every day and communicate full ideas using up to 4 word sentences.  I’ve seen she and her older sister play by themselves for an hour actually talking to each other like best friends.  Here’s a story for you.  I told Abby if she hit sister one more time, she would go to time-out.  She walked away and sulked.  Then, she came back less than a minute later, looked right at Sophia and said, “Sorry,” clear as day.  Unbelievable.  Unbelievable what she’s learned just from watching.  I never would have dreamed of asking her to say “sorry.”  I would’ve thought she was too young for it.  What a nice surprise.  She’s since said “sorry” a handful of times.

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The excitement that fills my heart to move on to this new bigger girls’ stage!  OH!  I can’t explain what it’s like to witness these girls growing up.  The girls that they are becoming warms my heart like no other feeling in the world.  I guess, you know, if you’re a parent, too.

Learning about myself.

I have been learning some valuable things about myself–some of them seemingly trivial but all of them important to me.  As I’m on this journey to figure out who I am, I’m figuring out who I’m not.

• I’m not schedule-oriented.  It doesn’t make me feel less stress to have my day scheduled…. I tried something with Sophia, a very cute picture schedule for our day.  I hoped it would help her feel less anxiety, but I didn’t respond to it very well.  I like more flexibility than that, and most of the time I have NO IDEA what we’re going to do from hour to hour.  I may still use it sometimes, but for the most part it makes me feel trapped.

• I also realized that I’m not the free-spirit “messy house” gal either that I used to think I was.  A messy house doesn’t help me feel more creative or energetic or “free.”  Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve gotten my house deep cleaned and straightened up.  NOW I feel free.  I found “homes” for all the toys, and we know just where to put them away.  It’s so easy to get things straightened back up, and the girls are playing a lot more.  I’ve actually seen the empty floor (or kitchen table) become a new place for creativity–getting out different toys that they haven’t played with in a while and playing with them in new ways.  Having the kitchen table cleaned off regularly means that we can spread out any number of crafts or projects whenever… and, easily put them away.  I’ve also seen the girls jump to help keep things straightened.  Sophia often comments on it, “Wow, Mom it’s cleaned up.  This is great!”   What was happening was not that I was living amongst filth, but I was living in just enough stifling mess that I felt trapped to do anything about it.  Increased clutter contributed to my lack of energy or motivation, and I think the kids were trapped, too.  There was a “I-don’t-know-where-to-begin-so-I’m-just-gonna-sit-down” problem.  I learned something similar about myself about 2 1/2 years ago when I made a New Years’ resolution to clean my kitchen every night before I went to bed.  It isn’t an understatement to say that it changed my life….  How can I start the day fresh and free when my sink is full and my counter is crusty?
• I’m not a mother of 4… or 5…  I realized over the last month (through much ‘baby fever’) that, though I may long to have a family of 6, the mother in that picture is not me.  I am flourishing with these two sweet little girls, but I believe that a few more might do me in.  I love how much attention and love that I’m able to give each of them right now.  I think it’s right.  It’s an important decision to make (an important thing to know about myself) before I spend the rest of my childbearing years longing for a large family.
• That I can be a morning person.  If I put my coffee in a travel mug while I cook breakfast, I can still enjoy it for the next hour.  It isn’t necessary for me to spend an hour waking up with coffee…though, I will continue that ritual from time to time as I do like it.
• I can say “no” to my kids and I don’t have to feel guilty–i.e. “no” to junk food between meals, “no” to “carry me.”  I can ignore tantrums (completely ignore tantrums!) and they go away.  I can parent WITHOUT screaming, and I can spank without being angry or feeling guilty.  I can simply give consequences and move on.  (Wonderful book!  Probably should devote a whole post to it, but please read this book.  Even if you don’t “scream,” it’s about reactive parenting and taking care of yourself first.  Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.)
• I can eat healthy foods and find time to cook them, I can exercise and find time for it.  And, I can feel better because of it. I can feel good in my own skin.
• I can stop reading a book 30 pages into it and say “not worth my time” without feeling guilty.
• I can reflect on my insecurities and be pointed to the Father.  My insecurities are almost always rooted in poor theology–what I believe to be true about God and His Kingdom.  And, if I can reflect on what I know to be true about Him, then I can begin again in a much better place.

Knowing these things about myself is empowering.  Knowing who I’m not really takes the pressure off of me to try to be someone I’m not.

Vacation.

I have a few pics from our recent Southwest CO vacation.  Yes, we drove from one end of the state to the other.  We had to drive around the range to shorten our drive to 7 1/2 hours (no stops).  Can I give you some travel tips with toddlers?  I feel like we’ve mastered it.  Pack the car the night before.  Leave as soon as the kids wake up.  Eat breakfast in the car.  Pack lots and lots of children’s books within arms reach.  Picture books read on audio are also awesome!  Children’s music like Yo-Gabba Gabba may also when they’re getting restless.  (As long as you don’t mind listening to it over and over.)  Bring plenty of healthy finger food snacks.  Bring a packed, picnic lunch to eat quickly at a rest stop while the kids run off their pent up energy.  Resume drive at nap-time.  Put on loud Mommy and Daddy music with a good beat… and kids pass out.  Voila–8 hours have passed.  Kids wake up, and you’re there.

Eat this, then that.

Humor me.  I’m rejoicing in a small victory today.  Lunch time woes.  Both of my kids have it.  “Lunch?!  I hate lunch! I want to throw lunch in the trash!”  Interpretation: “I only like to eat sweet, snacky foods–fruits and snack crackers and cookies.”  Today, my patience paid off–for BOTH of my children!

Lunch for the children today was meager: pile of tomatoes, pile of real mozzarella cheese, and 1/2 wheat bread slice.  I would’ve made a grilled cheese with tomatoes, but they wouldn’t eat it all together like that… They each ate the bread.  They each ate the tomatoes… and then, the cheese was left.  They looked at what Mommy and Daddy were eating and started losing it.  “I WANT a SANDWICH!”  (Of course, I know better… We’re eating fancy paninis, complete with pepperoni, cheese and veggies.)

They see the whole grain chips and hummus we’re eating.  My 19-month old: “Chip.  Chip.  Abby chip.”  It started with Sophia hollering and beggine and continued on to Abby.  The easy thing to do would be to just give in–give them each some chips.  After all, they’re whole grain.  Or, I could simply have put chips on their plate in the first place.  However, I had a sneaking suspicion that neither of them would eat this foreign looking cheese.  I was right.

Since Sophia asked for a chip first, I told her that she would need to eat some cheese before she could have any chips.  After flipping out and yelling awful things, she finally asked to leave the table to go play.  5 minutes later, she was back.  She ate a piece of cheese and got a chip.  10 pieces of cheese and 10 chips later and lunch was finished.  Abby didn’t quite understand the concept so well, though we’ve done it many times.  (Either that, or she’s stubborn as a mule.  I think she’s stubborn as a mule.)  After 10 whole minutes of screaming her head off for a chip, she asked to be all done.  Then 10 minutes later, Abby came back to the table and asked for a chip.  This time when I said, “Cheese first, then chip,” she ate the piece of cheese and then ate the chip.  (Sophia helped.)  10 pieces of cheese and 10 chips later, and she was also completely finished with her lunch!  AH!  Victory is mine!

It’s a simple rewards based system that teaches children the importance of eating what’s more healthy first before moving onto the junk.  Some people don’t like to reward with food, but it’s such a simple concept that is effective.  As long as your rewards aren’t crap and as long as what you’re using to teach them to eat is truly healthy food, then I think that it will teach them good eating habits.

Another trick we use with our eldest is dessert rewards.  When she completely finishes her (well-balanced) plate of dinner, she is rewarded with a (reasonable) dessert.  Dessert is usually fruit, sometimes a fruity popsicle, or something sweeter like chocolate or a cookie.  I want to teach my kids to eat EVERYTHING, appreciate foods with different flavors, textures and colors…  I think it’s working, little by little.  The trick is having the patience to be okay with screaming for a few minutes.  My kids sure can throw fits!  I bet yours can, too.  😉

An homage to a long lost friend

Cowboy.  That stinking cute animal has been the thing I love to hate for almost 2 years, now.  Cowboy has been that over-loved, stuffed cotton dog that has been the bane of my existence every day at 1:00 and every night at 6:30–sometimes spending up to 1 hour looking for the blessed thing!  The emotion I have spent being angry with that little stuffed animal!  I have retrieved her from all manner of hiding places, washed her after trips into the potty, cleaned her when her face was green with snot.  And, of course, consoled Sophia countless times for said trips to the washing machine.  “Cowboy needs a bath.  She’ll be back soon.”

I have thanked God for Cowboy every night.  Yes, that’s right.  Sophia would add Cowboy to the list every night when we thanked God for Mommy, Daddy, Abby and Sophia.  (Nighttime talks.)

Cowboy has been with us in nearly every picture that has been photographed in the last year.  Cowboy has gone with us on nearly every trip the store.  She’s been introduced to every stranger we met along the way.  Cowboy’s been on every camping trip and every hike.  How many times have I said, “Let’s leave Cowboy in the car so we don’t lose her.”

I have listened countless hours about how much Sophia loves her, how she’s her best friend.  I have spent every trip out worrying about that stuffed animal as if it were a 3rd child of mine.  I have said, “Do you have Cowboy?”  or “Where’s Cowboy?” so many times a day that I’ve nearly lost my mind over that animal!  How many times have I snatched up that stuffed animal and hid her in my bag so that Sophia wouldn’t lose her?  I have felt so much anxiety about keeping up with her that now that that anxiety is absent, I feel empty somehow.  Cowboy was my daughter’s best friend.  Ugh.  I’m nearly sick to my stomach about the loss of this… this… lovey.

“Cowboy” now is this word I dare not say aloud.  A word that I used to use and hear, literally, hundreds of times a day!  It’s now a word that brings up heartache at my daughter’s first loss.

If this sounds over-dramatic, then I fear you haven’t been a mother to one who was so attached to a doll…

Thankfully, though… it seems that it has been harder for me….

We lost Sophia’s lovey at a huge shopping mall this weekend.  He got dropped somewhere along the way… and, well,… nobody noticed.  Until it was time to go home, many hours later.  No one is blamed for the disappearance, other than the fact that she got dropped and lost.  (By the way, Cowboy is a girl in case you hadn’t gathered.  This is very important.)  Sophia was so exhausted from the trip that she conked out in the car while Will and I took turns going back into the mall looking for Cowboy and leaving our name and number with all the stores that we went to.  Her falling asleep meant that we didn’t have a huge, dramatic scene, but it meant that the drama would be post-poned… and, we would have to tell her about it after there was nothing we could do.  As we pulled out of the parking lot and drove the hour-long drive home, the reality was looming and settling in and the loss was real.  Will and I both cried as we imagine the devastation that Sophia would feel when we had to tell her, the difficulty it would be for her to soothe herself without Cowboy.  She’s too young to deal with this kind of loss.  It’s too soon!  We mourned that loss for the next hour.

By the time we arrived back in Fort Collins, we stopped and got popcorn and a movie to watch together, hoping to soften the blow.  After we got home, we sat Sophia down and told her what happened.  She cried.  She told us that she missed Cowboy.  But… she seemed to understand… (I fear that I’ve been warning her that this day would come.  She’s kind of aloof sometimes.)  She’s asked about Cowboy only a few times (bedtimes), none of which I have heard.   It’s so strange how this word has disappeared from my every day.

I’ve noticed something different about Sophia, though.  Since the loss of Cowboy (3 days), I haven’t once seen her suck her thumb.  She’s acted more grown-up.  There’s no whining about “where’s Cowboy?”  She’s wanted to cuddle with me more–not something she’s ever been that crazy about.  It’s been very strange.  It’s the complete opposite of what I expected.

Today, I heard this: Sophia walked into her room. “I’m going to get Cow– uh, Piglet.”  Officially, Cowboy has been replaced.  Replaced with a larger stuffed animal that used to be Abby’s before Abby attached to a Pooh Bear…  And, she’s sucking her thumb again… I’m. Left.  Feeling… Well. Strange… I guess, I feel bad for Cowboy getting replaced so quickly, though I’m relieved that she didn’t feel the loss more strongly.  Is it her age?  Is she not old enough to really understand the loss?  Or not old enough to have fully developed attachment as I see it?  I mean, Cowboy has been around longer than Abby!  Abby knows that Sophia and Cowboy go together like french fries and ketchup.  She would constantly take Cowboy to Sophia when Sophia didn’t have her….  And, now what?  Is this it?  Do we now live life as before but with Piglet?  At first I was encouraging a new attachment, but keeping up with Cowboy was getting out of hand.  And Piglet’s at least 3 times the size that Cowboy was, maybe 5…

Well, it was really good for me to look through all those old pictures.  (There are many, many more.  These just happen to be what’s on my MacBook.)  Well, it was good for my grieving… though, I probably won’t show Sophia for a while…  I do feel a lot less angry about Cowboy making it into all those pictures, now… funny, how things change.  Maybe, this will help me let him…er, her go.

Rethinking my parenting style

That last post is actually from a few days ago… I’m finally opening back up the laptop and catching up…  I just hit publish because I thought it might inform where we’ve been and where we’re going (hopefully).

What a week.

I don’t feel like I can keep up.  This week: A 104.3 fever.  A call to poison control after a Tylenol incident.  Bite marks on Abby’s foot.  Keys in an electrical outlet.  Dealing with, “YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING?!”  Overhearing, “I’m gonna cut your head off, Abby!”  Putting Abby in time-out for hitting me with a book while yelling, “Hit!”

I think I may have plateaued on the hill of how much parenting sucks sometimes.

Hey, it’s good birth control.  Call in that vasectomy.  Stat.

I’m in a fog this morning.  Overwhelmed with where we are (i.e. where I am with these kids).  I mean, how is it that they’re 3 and 1 1/2 and I suddenly feel like I woke up with two crazy wild kids and when did it start getting so difficult.  Let me tell you something, parents-with-kids-less-than-3-years-old: Don’t fear the terrible-twos.  They ain’t nothing!  Nobody told me what 3 was like…  Mouthy, sassy, independent, boundary pushing, button pushing little monsters…

Okay, okay…  that’s enough.  Sophia’s figuring out who she is, how she fits in, what to do with herself.  That’s that.  I need to take control.

We actually started a new plan, yesterday.  I realized that I have sluggishly fallen back into a natural parenting style (post 18-months ago) that is not only lazy and ineffective but also counterproductive and bringing the worst out in my daughter.  Yes, I believe that part of my daughter’s behavior is my problem, too.

She’s probably gonna yell at me if I yell at her.  She’s probably going to swing at me when she’s mad, if I occasionally spank her when I’m angry…  She’s probably going to cower when I say, “I want to talk to you” if I’m always focusing on what she does wrong.  She’s probably going to yell and back-talk if I always answer negatively to her requests…

Yah, I’m being negative.  Coupled with not enough sleep and a touch of illness, our attitudes and behavior have snowballed out of control for both of us.  By the way, I just found this book at the library.  I’ve got it on reserve.  Anybody read it?

After another great conversation with my Mom, Will and I started something new with Sophia, yesterday.  Basically it’s a behavior therapy program.  It’s very similar to the therapy that I did with preschoolers with autism.  Sophia is rewarded for good behavior with stickers and get’s a prize of some sort when she gets so many stickers.  We ignore bad behaviors (for the most part… still working that out.)  So, 5 stickers gets her a treat or a show and 25 gets her something really special like ice cream or a movie night.

It has COMPLETELY turned around her behavior (and mine, honestly).  She hasn’t had a single tantrum since we started (less than 24 hours ago… but, that’s saying something lately.)  She also hasn’t back-talked or hit or been mean or anything.

I tell you what, though, it’s been completely exhausting pre-empting her every move, ready to reward every little positive thing.  It’s so alternative to my nature.  My nature is to focus on the negative, to nit-pick, to expect perfection and judge every detail that doesn’t measure up.  I know this about my sinful nature… It’s not pretty.  It’s been exhausting trying to find ways for her to “help” me so that she can get rewarded.  This is having on my “A-game” every minute, and it is REAL HARD!  But, this is parenting.  And, I’m learning about parenting my 3-year old.  What works and what doesn’t.  What seems to be productive for us to relate to each other and for her to learn.   What I was doing was shutting her down emotionally and sending her into desperate behavior measures…

Now, we’re not going to do this reward system until she’s 15… My hope is that it will remarkably turn around her behavior in just a few days or weeks, and then we can drop it for a more natural verbal system of rewards for good behavior–kind of re-train both of us.  What it’s doing for me is changing my focus.  I’m now focusing on everything that she is doing RIGHT.  Having such a positive attitude is helping her also focus on what she’s doing right and how pleased mommy is with her.  Her attitude is COMPLETELY different.  She keeps telling me how much she loves me, asking what she can do to help me or if I will do things with her, smiling again, and just altogether acting happy.

It’s worth the hard work.  I can change my natural inclination to parent as a perfection expect-er….  

Confessions of an angry mother or How often I want to throw in the towel

I think I may retitle my blog, “Confessions of an angry mother.”

I have never used more self-control in my life.  More than a sugar junkie at a free chocolate festival.  More than a 3-year old and an open bag of marshmallows.  More than a 16 year-old boy alone with a stack of dirty magazines.

Okay, I don’t know about any of those, but I have seriously never used so much self-control… and it be so stinking difficult.

I’ve been having a hellacious time with my 3-year old lately.  Shew.  The terrible twos are NOTHING compared to the tantrum threes (or whatever we’re calling it).  The talking back.  The yelling.  The screaming.  The drama.  Sophia has no idea what to do with her feelings.  She’s so angry.  She’ll take swings, or she’ll draw back to take a swing.  We’re doing a lot better about not getting into power struggles, but every once in a while I find myself in another with her because I’m trying to follow through on a bad idea…

My current thought on parenting:  Discipline bad behavior immediately and concisely (usually via a time-out). Move on as quickly as possible.  Ignore tantrums and other outbursts like hitting.  But, sometimes I have NO IDEA WHAT TO DO!!!!  I just can’t keep my cool and think clearly in the moment.  I need to chant this mantra so I have it at the ready (which would probably be appropriate in most situations): “I don’t like that.  Let’s have a time-out.”  I feel like I need to start meditating or something.  My anger just keeps escalating at inappropriate times.  Sophia knows Mommy’s anger button all too well.

Okay, there’s that pep-talk to myself….  Self-control was what this post was going to be about.

After an enlightening conversation with my wonderfully wise mother, I realized a few things.  One of which is this: Sophia needs more positive attention from me.  She’s been telling me that she wants to learn to read.  This afternoon I decided to give it a try.  After a near mental breakdown trying to figure out how I’m going to find any time to spend one-on-one with her, I let her spend 30 minutes before naptime playing a letters game with me.  She was, literally, a maggot in hot ashes.  She kept saying how much fun she was having, how happy she was, while we were playing this letter game.  All the while, she was literally bouncing off the floor to the coffee table to the couch and back again.  Over and over and over.  She did not, could not, stop moving.  She was doing okay with the letters game, though not as well as I’d hoped.  Eventually, I couldn’t take the bouncing any longer, so we moved to her little table.  The bouncing syndrome was lessened a bit, though she couldn’t at all sit still.  Then she couldn’t remember “G.”  “G.”  We’d only gone over it and over and over it.  And, then she couldn’t remember “J.”  We went back and forth and back and forth.  She was happy as a lark.  I was patient as a saint.  She still couldn’t remember “G.”  She couldn’t remember “J.”  If I had had someone else’s child, I know that the anger wouldn’t have fueled my head like it did.  I spoke softly, and sweetly and graciously, and it took EVERYTHING I had.  I felt hot, burning anger.  What the $%(*# is my problem?  It’s just the motherflipping alphabet.  And, I was trying to get an overtired, overanxious 3-year old to sit still and think.  I think my daughter is part wild-animal.  If I don’t let her out to run wild, or at least walk her, she bounces off the walls, bites my head off, or both…

Sophia loved this time, though.  She was SO happy.  She was enjoying the game.  And, other than being completely unable to sit still, she was being “good,” i.e. she wasn’t being “bad.”  This speaks to how much she longs to spend time with me.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just send them all to playschool and go get a a day job?  Yah, I’m pretty sure it’s in my DNA.

Oh, but I love spending time with the boogers.

I cried because I was so beautiful–a rant.

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about, nothing new to parents of a little girl: Do I tell my daughter that she’s beautiful?  Immediately, my gut response is “You betcha!  Absolutely!”

Start now and never stop.  Tell her through those awkward pre-teen years.  Tell her during the difficult teen years.  Tell her when she starts dating and gets stood up for the first time.  Tell her when she realizes her “first love” was a d-bag.  Tell her when she gets married and is walking down the aisle.  Tell her when she feels like a whale pregnant with her first child.  Tell her.  And, then tell her some more.

Does that make me a bad mother?

I want my girls to feel beautiful.  Are they going to feel beautiful just because I say so?  No.  I realize that there’s much more to it than that…

Comments on appearance is such an icky topic.  It always brings up weird stuff in people.  For me, it brings up the wicked teenage years when I lost over 30 pounds at the vulnerable age of 16.  I got comments on my physical appearance for the first time in my life.  It was off-putting.  It was always the same people over and over, too.  I just got tired of it.  Talk about something else!  And, some people, honestly, I didn’t believe.  Like, once I got the strangest compliment from a gorgeous and popular, thin girl in my high school.  (I think she was dating the quarter back at the time.)  She actually told me, in line at the cafeteria in front of God and everybody, that she thought I had a great butt.  Maybe, I’m just not “girly” enough, I don’t know how girls talk to each other, but this was weird… right?  I had such a horrible self-image, and all of these comments made me more obsessed with my appearance and more obsessed with keeping my body a certain size and shape.

What is the message that my daughter is getting when I tell her she is beautiful?  There’s a difference in my story.  No one told me I was “beautiful.”  Well, at least that’s the difference that I see.  People were commenting on my new thin body, on new muscle tone, downed pant sizes and tight buns, apparently…  But, none of my peers, or teachers or friends ever said, “You are beautiful.”  The only ones that ever did were boys…  and those I clung to like a starving tick behind your dog’s left ear.  I fully invested myself in these relationships because I didn’t have enough self-esteem to believe it myself.  When I put on make-up and voraciously fixed my hair, it was to do just that: “fix” myself.  When I dressed up, I never thought I looked good, I always hated the first 10 things I put on and settled with number 11.  (That’s all normal teenage stuff, right?)

There was a definite shift in my thinking when I was pregnant with my first daughter.  I felt the undeniable feminine beauty of housing and growing a child.  I was becoming a mother and knew that this was beauty that could neither be denied nor taken away.  Becoming a mother is a lot like being a child of the King, my relationship with God can’t be taken from me.  It is.  And He is mine.  And, it is beautiful.  So it is with being a mom.  The God-given gift of carrying a child in your womb is one of the most inherently beautiful miracles of the world….

Where was I?  Oh, yes.  When I stepped on the scales at the labor/delivery ward to be induced on that fateful day 3 years ago, the number jumped passed two bills…. And, I knew it would… Did it sting?  Sure, how couldn’t it?  Did I feel beautiful?  Yah, I did.  A mighty beautiful and swollen, pregnant mama carrying within her the mostly beautiful baby girl her eyes had yet to see.  This began a beauty revolution in which I wanted my girls to know that they’re beautiful–that they are God-made and He said “It is good.”

Let me tell you where my thoughts are coming from.  As you can imagine, my little 3-year old is a parrot.  A parrot and a mirror.  She repeats everything she hears.  She takes it on.  The most hilarious thing that she says is a quote from a book that I am not recommending… maybe, you’ve heard of it: Pinkalicious.  It’s a bit of a sensation, I think… Oh, what a book.  We’ve read it 18,000 times.  We’ve nearly worn the jacket right off that library book.  We’ve had it for well over a month and read it more than once a day sometimes… Shew.  I like to hide it sometimes.  Anyway, in case you haven’t read it, it’s about a girl who turns pink from eating too many pink cupcakes.  This is what she says about being her favorite color, “I cried because I was so beautiful!”

So, out of nowhere, I will hear Sophia say this.  She often hollers it out throughout the house.  It’s quite hilarious because she’s quoting a very funny moment in a book.  But, I also here her calling out things like, “I’m pret-ty!  I’m pret-ty!”  She also told me in the library a few days ago about “the most beautiful little girl in the purple sweater.”  It’s sinking in.  She’s commenting on other kids…

Here’s why I don’t think it’s so bad.  I’m a thoughtful person.  I know that beauty is not just what I see with my eyes when I look at my daughters.  I know that it’s also about what I know about them, about who they are.  It’s also about what I feel about them because I know them.  It’s about who they are and who they will become.

The problem is that my girls really are physically beautiful.  (Is that a problem?)  Well, they get comments all the time.  Abby’s red hair is a magnet for all gushy,over-talkative,pseudo-aunties.  Often during said gush session, Sophia will yell out, “My hair’s beautiful, too!”  Or, “I’m pretty, too!”  Just yesterday a man on the square told us that our girls looked like they came out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  Nice.  Lovely.  Yes.  I eat it up… But, what are these messages sending them?   Will they stop?  And, what happens when they do?  When they go through those awkward years of 11-14?  I’ll still be telling them how beautiful they are.  Will they believe it?  And, what about when they’re 16, 17.  Will they believe it or will they look for boys to tell them that?  And what about sibling rivalry?  I didn’t have a sister, but I’ve seen enough made-for-TV movies to fear what jealousy may exist between the two of them…

I’ve read all this stuff like “When you tell your daughter she’s beautiful, make sure you say ‘inner beauty.'”  Or, flat out, “Don’t tell your daughter she’s beautiful.  Tell her she’s smart, she works hard, she’s good at ________.”  Or, “If you do tell her she’s beautiful, be sure to greater emphasize her other characteristics.”  What the #@#!#%$!  Besides this being totally confusing, I want her to know she’s beautiful!  Is that so bad?  I want her to know that I think she’s beautiful!  I also want her to know that she’s smart…  and strong… and kind… and loving… and nurturing… and independent…and interesting… and worth knowing… . I also want her to know that she’s loved… and adored… and cherished… and enjoyed… and loved by the King…  I want her to know that the Father thinks she’s beautiful.

It’s like beauty is this thing that some people have and some people don’t.  That’s just not true in the eyes of the Father.  That’s because the Father truly sees.  He truly sees the whole person, the whole forgiven beauty that is His child.  I want to love like He does. I want to foster that in my girls.

But, how do I do that?  How do I navigate the ugly stigma that is attached to “beauty”?  I don’t want to tack on “inner beauty” to every compliment like some caveat or some over-used cliche that my girls will need therapy for. I can’t (won’t) keep my girls out of our culture.  At the same time, I don’t want my girls to be obsessed with their physical appearance, worried that they have to look just so or worried about when it will fade.

That’s what they say, right?  “Beauty fades.”  May I respectfully say, “Bull $#*@!”  My grandmother was the most beautiful woman I can remember in ALL OF THE WORLD!  Not a touch of work done.  White as a ghost and very overweight in her old age.  But, skin as soft as silk and a heart of pure gold.  An absolute gem of God’s pure light.  And, her husband loved her boundlessly, with a lifetime of faithfulness to prove it.

What can I do other than thoughtfully parent every age, hoping to nurture my girls into strong, beautiful women. Beautiful women who know who they are, know they are loved by me and loved by God.  What else can I hope for?  Does telling them they are beautiful sabotage that?

I don’t think so.  What do you think?

Ultimately, my daughters will have to navigate within themselves a feeling of beauty–of inner beauty, of outer beauty… everything.  They’ll have to navigate within themselves every kind of self-feeling.  I’ll nurture what I can.  But, I want my daughters to know that I think they’re beautiful.

A Mother’s Wish

I want to make a memory of today, of something I just witnessed.  I want to make such a vivid memory that I can recount every detail to my girls when they’re adults.  My mind is always so foggy, my memory so disjointed and unclear (thyroid symptom?)  I fear I won’t remember.

Today’s been pretty rough day.  It began abruptly at a 5:45 bang on our bedroom door, followed by a 5:46 climb into bed over the top of me.  Yup.  Sophia.  She needs some boundaries. (By the way, I was up past midnight last night; so, I did not welcome this sweet face so early.)

As I groggily came downstairs at about 6:30, I was met with the unmet tasks of yesterday–horribly crusty kitchen with a sink full of dishes, 2 new shrubs to plant out in our front flowerbed, the next week’s grocery shopping, 2 loads of unfolded laundry, and a houseful of tornado-toddlerdom, i.e. every kind of toy everywhere.  (I’ve been taking some time off from housework.  Still recovering from a recent stomach illness.  More on that later.)

This might not be so bad if I had woken up a bit cheerier… or let’s say, if everyone else had, too…

So, Sophia went to bed after 9 last night, and she woke up before 6.  She is CRANKY today.  She is every bit of 3 years old today. The way she is talking to me sends my head spinning, my eyes rolling, and body shaken.  I tell her to do something, and she yells at me, “NO! I DON’T WANT TO! THIS IS MY KIND OF LIFE AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!!!!!”  You can be sure that this kind of behavior is met with time-outs and apology sessions…

How’s Abby today?  She’s getting new words every day.  Just a few days ago she finally started verbalizing “no” and doing it very well.  Now, she yells (in a very sweet 18-month old voice) “NO!” after I tell her to do something.  Then she rolls all over the floor laughing.

WHAT the WHAT?!

Where was I?  Was there a scene I wanted to savor?  It wasn’t them helping dig the holes for the shrubs… or them helping me get new soil mixed in… or even watering them…  though, it sure made me think a lot about how God is working on my patience…

About 20 time-outs later sometime after cleaning up lunch, I hear, “Abby’s hugging me, Mommy!  Abby’s hugging me!”  I look around the corner, and both my girls are on the ground.  Abby has tackled Sophia from the front, arm tight around her neck.  She sitting on her knees, hugging her heart out, laying her head on Sophia’s shoulder.  Sophia’s smiling ear to ear, trying to be patient enough to hug her back, her legs wrapped around behind her.  There is only sheer joy.  “Abby’s hugging me, Mommy!  Abby’s hugging me!”

They’re becoming best friends–following each other around everywhere, wanting to be just like each other.  They’re playing together better all the time and also doing their share of fighting and wrestling.  It’s the most beautiful thing a mother can see.  I want to savor it.  I want to pause and make this memory of this moment last forever.  I want to tell my girls when they’re in the late 20s about this day.  I have a feeling if I remember it, I will tell it through choked back tears.