Body Image and My Baby Girl

Every mother thinks her children are irresistibly beautiful.  We admire the beauty of their tiny little fingers and toes; we marvel at the striking eyes that meet our gaze as we cradle them in our arms.  As they grow, we only find more to love about the little people we have known from day one.  We fill our homes and their hearts with a mother's all-consuming and unconditional love.  However, the world rarely harbors the same enthusiastic love for our sweet ones.

Recently, as I brought Faith up to bed, I told her she was beautiful...because she is.  Her eyes are a blend of golden honey and warm melted chocolate; her dimpled smile is priceless.  She hears compliments from me constantly: pretty, smart, kind, strong.  Why would she have any reason to doubt that she is, in fact, adorable?  Her response to me, "That's not what my friends say."

Seriously?  She is four.  Who are these friends and where are their parents?  Who tells this kid she's not pretty?  But, then I stop the rapid roller coaster that is my train of thought... 

I ask her, "Well, do you think you're pretty?"

"No."

Hmmm...certainly not what I anticipated.  Where is the high self-esteem I thought we were fostering?  Do daily compliments of intelligence, appearance and compassion wane in the face of a fellow four-year-old who is wearing a cuter dress?  What now?  So, I bring her into our bedroom and we plop down in front of the mirror. 

"Look at yourself in the mirror, kiddo.  What do you like about yourself?"

"Well, I like my earrings."

Ugh, nope, earrings don't count.  We talk about how earrings are removable, changing.  We need to find things we like that are constant, unchanging.  The teacher in me knows that I have to model this activity for her.  So, I do.  I look at myself in the mirror knowing I need to pick three parts of me that I like.  Okay, this is SO much harder than it sounds.  When I look at myself, of course, I am first struck by what I dislike.  Yep, I'm still overweight...shocker, right?  Oh, yeah, and my hair? It's still in my daily pony tail, bangs bobby pinned back.  And, since this is the summer of SPF 75, my "tan" looks quite mid-January.  So, I look harder because I know there is much more to me than that.

"Well, Faith.  I like my eyes, a lot. I like how they're a mix of blue and grey.  Also, I like my feet and my toes."

She laughs, "No, you don't. Your feet are dirty."

"Yes, I do.  Even if my feet are dirty, I really like them.  Your turn."

"Well, I like my toes, too, because I can use them to scratch my ankles.  And I like my skin, and my hair."

Our conversation continues, and she ponders about whether or not her hair counts as something unchangeable, because after all, Aunt Nora did shave her hair off before.  We talk about how some of her classmates tell her they don't like her outfit, and now we have the What's-on-the-Inside conversation, and we pick a couple of internal qualities we admire in each other.  We chat and chat...my goal is to capitalize on this teachable moment, hers is to hold off bed time.

Eventually, I tuck her into bed telling her I love her more than the sun, and knowing that tonight's talk is one of many to come.

There are certainly moments in my day and and days in my life where I also feel like a child comparing myself to others, and knowing that I'll always come up short.  And, yes, there is much about me that I need and want to change, but again there is so much more to me than that.  I am assertive and intelligent, and I have done amazing things.  My job as Faith's mom is so much bigger than to love her and compliment her.  So, no matter how hard it may be to find the good things in the mirror, I know that it's my job to show her and teach her what it is to be a confident woman who loves who she is.

South Haven: The Land of Blueberries and Fanny Packs

The last time Kevin and I camped alone was in the summer of 2004.  Married just over a year, and with an adorable chocolate lab in tow, we headed to the Northwoods of Wisconsin...I brought a book, Kevin a fishing pole.

Since that trip our family has grown by two children and decreased by one 130-pound brute of a chocolate lab.  We have become busier, our patience has worn thin, and quiet time is at a premium.  So, in need of some time away, I hit the Internet and begin browsing.  Of course I begin with an idealistic Caribbean cruise, then mosey my way through links for quaint Bed and Breakfasts...but who am I kidding, there is no way I'm leaving my kids long enough to go on a cruise, and there is no way Kevin and I are social enough to pretend to enjoy eating breakfast with strangers.  Hmmm, what to do, where to go?

I hate making decisions like that, so when I ask Kevin what he'd prefer, he tells me, "book it, and tell me when and where we're going."  In those moments I contemplate downtown Chicago hotels and ritzy restaurants because I know how much he LOVES the big city [insert eye roll here].  So, after much frustration and a great deal of campsite investigation, I settle on Van Buren State Park near South Haven, MI.  Apparently we can't eat breakfast with strangers, but we are completely comfortable with community showers and bathrooms...what is wrong with us?

After packing our little square car to the top, our get-a-way begins.  This time instead of a book and a fishing pole, we have a Kindle and smart phones in tow.  We dropped the kids at Grandma and Grandpa's and they barely noticed we left...as long as you don't count Connor's kicking tantrum.  Two and a half hours later we arrive at our excessively sunny camp site looking forward to a bit of sand and solitude. 

And that's precisely what we got...no children to chase, no noses to wipe, no arguments to settle.  We took a few trips to the beach for sunsets, strolls and even a swim.  We walked the pier to the light house,  rode our bikes through the campground, ate quiet, simple uninterrupted meals, picked enough blueberries to last us through September, saw more fanny packs than we knew existed, ate huge ice cream cones and enjoyed every minute of our campfires. 

Nothing fancy, nothing over-the-top...yet, completely wonderful.

A Grownup in the Park

The majority of my days are spent playing make believe and trying to keep my little ones happily fed and entertained. I am Faith's biggest fan at her "concerts" while Connor clings to me expecting telepathic recognition of his grunts. Some days are struggles: we whine, we fight, we cry. Other days are awesome: we share, we laugh, we nap. I am fortunate to have them in daycare a few days a week, so I do get plenty of "me time." It's a happy balance between lovin' my kids and keepin' my sanity.

Last night, however, I spent a rare evening moonlighting as a full-fledged adult. Twelfth Night at the Peabody Estate in Oakbrook? Food, wine and outdoor theater? Yes, please.


My recent forms of entertainment have been narrowed to annoyingly sweaty trips to the zoo, tiresome outings to the children's museum and cranky backyard swim days. Yet, there I was, sitting in a park with friends drinking wine, anticipating Shakespeare. What a pleasant departure from the ordinary. I felt almost giddy about sitting in my own quad chair only a stone's throw away from the stage. The play was wonderful, made even better by the ambiance - the hot, sticky outdoor ambiance.

Am I going a little over the top about something as simple as this trip to see a play? Probably, but this excursion really got me thinking. I was genuinely excited about what I was doing, and it wasn't just about the play; it was about me.

Gulp, I said it...it was about me.

I took time to do something that made me happy, and it was more out of the ordinary than reading a book, watching the food network or checking facebook. There was no guilt, as my children were happily tucked in bed and Kevin had told me to "have fun." I was out to see a play with Jen, my wonderful friend and fellow English teacher, and I enjoyed every minute.

Come to think of it, last night was my opportunity to be happily fed and entertained...no make believe required.