Save It for Later on Pinterest

I have to say, I have a million posts swirling around my brain.

There is so much I want and need to deliberate in the form of sharing here at Sperk*.  The high-quality responses I typically receive in the comments always surprise me and I am grateful.  Your stories and insight propel my initial pondering into compelling conversations, helping me to discover even more of what I am trying to grasp.  THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS.

To gather my thoughts into a cohesive and purposeful state, I usually read articles of interest via Twitter or Pulse News, or I will pin, pin, pin on Pinterest.  However, today, organized thought eludes me. 

I am thinking that if I share some of the content I have been curating at Pinterest (or using in desperation to bind an idea into a succinct bit of writing), it may be fruitful in helping me to work out whatever restlessness keeps me from focus.

 

I visited Delilah over at Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Mama this morning because I know she regularly shares her pins of interest in a category she calls “Pin…teresting.”  I was taken aback to find that she too is feeling restless.  She questions the change in weather in being the cause and I, too, am going to go that route:

Please enjoy this bit of a highlight from my beloved curating project over at Pinterest as I attempt to deal with the global warming that is transpiring within my brain:

For Fun: Vintage Dresses

Did you know that I love vintage dresses?  I do.  I really do.  If I ever acquire a ton of expendable cash, I'm going to line my mega walk-in closet with archival quality boxes full of them.  I may wear them, too!

                                                                       

Source: nymag.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

                                                                       Source: omgthatdress.tumblr.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

                                                                       

For Kids: Tech and EdTech

Summer is coming!  What are you going to do with your kids on a rainy day?  How can you be sure your students don't lose skills they acquired during the school year?  Check out my Tech/EdTech board for ideas on engaging your children over the summer.

Are you a fan of TEDTalks?  You'll love the newly launched TEDEd:

                                                                        Source: youtube.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

Kids too young for Facebook but dying to get social online?  

Help your children learn social media skills on PixyKids: Social media for ages 6-12:

                                                                          Source: pixykids.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

Maybe summer is a good time for your kids learn Spanish?  There's an App for that:

                                                                        Source: blogs.kqed.org via Sperk* on Pinterest

For You: Stories About Moms

Just in time for Mother's Day, I created a pin board of stories found around the blogosphere about mothers.  If you come across an great one, let me know.  If you would like to collaborate in gathering content, by all means, let me know and I'll add you to the board.

Me, My Mom and Elizabeth Taylor, 
by Jenna Petroff of Girls's Guide to the Galaxy via BlogHer:

                                                                                  Source: blogher.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

Stephanie, at People Do Things With Their Lives, 

shared this moving story about her mom this week 

in the YeahWrite #55 Writing Challenge:

                                                                        Source: peopledothingswiththeirlives.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

There couldn't be a pin board curating stories about moms

without this one from Ado at The Momalog:

                                                                        Source: themomalog.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

My brain now feels cooled off and clear.  Thanks for accompanying me as I sift through the stuff that obstructs clear and concise thought! Go check out my Pinterest profile for more curation-creation by Sperk*.

I Don't Know About Those Shorts

This morning, Sophia emerged from her room wearing new clothes her dad bought her over the weekend.  Her outfit was cute: short denim cutoffs, a black spaghetti strap tank under a sleeveless cotton screen-printed Beatles tee, and boots.  It looked like something one would have worn in the 1980’s to a Guns N’ Roses concert with the exception that she and her clothes looked clean.

I had no issue with the look.  I mean, I prefer her to go with the Land's End conservative approach, but that's not her and that's OK.

I had issue with the shorts.  They were short.  And I had issue with the boots with the shorts.  It was too oversexualized. 

She unrolled the shorts and they were better.  I was still uncomfortable with them but her argument was valid: “Mom, these were the longest shorts in the store.  Now they are rolled down, which makes them absolutely not cool, but I am willing to deal with it.”

She put a jean jacket over the tank and cut-off tee combo.  She changed out of her boots and put on her navy blue Keds.  I told her she looked cute and she glared at me.  I am certain this was her way of telling me she was filled with disdain because she had the strictest mother on the planet who wouldn't let her wear things that made her look good.

Little does she know, she looks best in her softball shorts, a loose tee, and sneakers.

After Sophia left for school, Antonia emerged from her room wearing denim shorts that came to her knee and a cute tee covered by a zipped hoodie.  On her feet she wore the new Toms her dad bought her over the weekend.  She looked cute.

We proceeded to have a conversation about how uncomfortable short shorts are in that they crawl up your crotch and you have to constantly pull them down out from between your inner thighs.  I added that I thought the school should just ban shorts all together.  I said, “The buildings are air-conditioned.  Shorts are not necessary.”

She agreed.

I helped her put on her 50 pound backpack by grabbing her long wavy hair and holding it to the top of her head.  I didn’t want it to get caught between the backpack and her back.  That would be painful.

She abruptly waved me off and proceeded to say, “Now I’m going to have to brush my hair.”

Her disdain for her hair is expressed every morning.  This makes no sense at all because her hair is jut lovely, I mean very lovely.

Little does she know, I think she looks best when she just grabs her hair and twists it up into a ponytail.

I’m trying to help them love themselves.  I tell them they look cute, but I don’t make a big fuss over it.  It’s like a passing thing: “You look cute today.  Did you grab your lunch?  Don’t forget you have rehearsal after school.”

Maybe they would realize they are beautiful if I made more of a fuss over how they look. But I won’t.  That was done to me as a teen and as a result my entire self-worth was based upon it.

Little did I know, I was also smart, creative, and funny.

Sometimes I have no idea if what I’m doing is going to produce a positive outcome—that outcome being two grown women that compassionately kick ass in whatever they do.  Until that time, they are just going to have to deal with long shorts and possibly consider getting hair cuts.

photo credit: Shandi-lee via photo pin cc

The Storybooks Got It Wrong

I switched off her desk lamp, turned to her closet with intent to shut its door and she said, “Leave it open. It helps me to dream.”

I was well aware of her obsession with fashion and her dreams of having a walk in closet the size of our small old house.  Without comment, I left the door to her dreams open and sat next to her on her bed.  I was smiling and ready for our nightly talk.

I listened as she recounted her recent birthday trip to New York City.  She described each Manhattan neighborhood.  SoHo was not what she expected, Chelsea was full of energy, Times Square was unreal, and Little Italy was crowded due to the number in attendance for the street fair.  However, one neighborhood was just right.

She said, “the Upper East Side was everything I pictured New York City to be.”

I was in agreement that the Upper East was lovely.  I added that it had one drawback--exclusivity.

Her eyes opened wide, and she said, “But I want that.  Not for the wrong reasons.  Mom, I can just see myself living there.  Dressing up my kids in cute little school uniforms, getting them into a cab.  I am wearing my Burberry coat neatly tied around my waist.  And everything is just perfect.  A great apartment.  Everything.”

I searched for words that would not sound judgmental, but would point out my concern.  I gently put my hand on her blanket-covered belly and patted it as I said, “It’s what’s in here that determines your happiness.  Don’t ever forget that.”

She said, “I know.  Mom, you aren’t going to cry are you?  You look like you are going to cry.”

I held back my tears and smiled.  I kissed her on the forehead and wished her pleasant dreams and a well-deserved rest.  

As I continued my nightly routine of emptying the dishwasher and folding laundry, I clung to her words.  I searched for the source of the tears she witnessed filling my eyes.  I looked around our tiny house and noticed the scratched wood floors, the chipped baseboards, and the water-spotted ceiling.  I was reminded that that I could not afford a plumber.  My body went down with a plop to the couch--the couch I bought 13 years ago.  It was old.  I cried.

Her fantasy on the Upper East Side paralleled life before I divorced her dad:  a lovely home at the end of a cul-de-sac, a pool, and daily commutes to a private school.  The impression of her smiling mom and dad was burned into her heart.  She was not an outsider gazing upon a smokescreen.  For her, the vision was real.  

Was I wrong to desire authenticity and divorce her dad?  In doing so, I destroyed her happiness.  Was she trying to recapture a time of contentment, a time she understood, by creating a picture-perfect life for herself in the future?

Later, as I tried to put myself to sleep, I saw a time when I will not be close enough to tuck her into bed.  I will not be there to listen to her dreams.  I will not be able to comfort her the moment when she realizes the storybooks got it wrong.

photo credit: jamelah via photopin cc

Parenting a Fashionista

My 13 year old daughter, Sophia, is infatuated with fashion.  It's my fault.  Last July, I was pining over a Burberry coat I found online, showed her the image, and that was it.  Ever since, she's been moving rapidly towards wanting to be editor-in-chief of Vogue Magazine.

Sophia is very serious about her desire to work for Vogue.  She has learned names of top designers and has lightly studied the history of style trends.  She has watched the documentary film, The September Issue, more than a dozen times.  Her fantasies of meeting the boys in the band Big Time Rush have been replaced with fantasies of meeting Anna Wintour, the current editor-in-chief of American Vogue.  

Her dad is also at fault for her obsession with fashion.  Last September, he took her on a trip to New York City.  Seeing designer clothing that can only be found hanging in stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue and The Polo Mansion coupled with the intensely spirited energy of Manhattan added fuel to the fire.  And because of his connections in the clothing industry, her dad was able to get her a tour of Kleinfeld Bridal where she met the entire staff and cast of Say Yes to the Dress.  Oh yes, she was definitely star struck. But today when talking about Kleinfeld's, she talks more about the $10,000 couture gowns than Randy.

Sophia with Randy and a $10,000 gown.

I don’t have issue with Sophia's dream to be a fashion editor and I'm supportive.  She can write.  She has a talented eye for recognizing and creating things that are aesthetically pleasing. She's ambitious, smart, and a hard-worker.  I believe she can do it.  However, I do have issues with the images of fashion models flooding her brain on a daily basis.

Dialogue is key.  Sophia and I talk about images depicted in her monthly deliveries of Teen Vogue. Our conversations usually consists of me asking, “Do you think this is trashy or artful?”  

She replies, “Trashy.  The girls look too made up and the short skirts serve no purpose.  I mean, it's like the purpose is to show their legs and not to show the trendy skirts”

I say, “I agree.  It’s oversexualized.  I don’t think it’s necessary for the image to be sexy.  It ruins the beauty of the skirts.”

The conundrum of the debate over a short skirt being sexy or fashionable is just that--a conundrum.  But I try.
 

When I disagree with her deduction of a photo, I not only tell her why, I point out my reasoning for having an opposing opinion.  This can be tricky.  For example, she found this photo of Dakota Fanning posing for a Marc Jacobs fragrance ad to be artful.

Dakota Fanning (photo credit)

Hopefully you can see my issues with this one.  It’s obviously oversexualized and inappropriate. The juxtaposition of Dakota Fanning's young innocent look and the phallic-looking perfume bottle is downright disturbing to me.  But I wasn't sure if she was aware of it's inappropriateness.  I mean, what kind of former knowledge does she need to have in order to view this photo as inappropriate?  I hopefully thought, “Maybe colors make this photo appealing to her.  Maybe it’s the vintage look.  She likes vintage clothing.”

I proceeded with caution when discussing the young woman with the phallic fragrance bottle between her legs because my opinions were strong and I did not want to squash her willingness to share her thoughts and opinions with me. Too much passion on my part could cut off all conversation.  I also didn't want to delve too deeply into a conversation about under age girls in pornography and the many things that could be considered phallic symbols.

These tricky conversations happen frequently.  Hopefully, they are helping her to become more skilled as a critical thinker when it comes to viewing images exhibited in her field of passion, fashion. But, I ask, are our conversations enough to combat the multifaceted, underlying negativity in these images?  I am only one person who has one conversation with her approximately three times a week.  I mean, really.  I have a lot to cover—homework, time management, chores, respect and manners--and feel like I stand no chance at competing with the multitude of images that come her way every day.

Last Monday night, as I was tucking her into bed, I asked her about how she spent her free time at her dad’s over the weekend.  She told me she watched three episodes of America’s Next Top Model and explained she liked the show because of its clips of photo shoots and not because of the clips of drama between the aspiring models.  That was good, I guess.  I understand the appeal (I’ve been known to spend the weekend on the couch viewing trashy reality TV).  She proceeded to ask me about the winner of Cycle 14, Krista White.

Krista White (photo credit)

She said, “Do you think she is too thin?  I mean I was comparing her collar bones to Tyra’s and hers stuck out like a whole lot more.”

Collar bones?  My girl is observant.

The conversation turned into a passionate lecture given by me which included my opinion of how wrong it was for Tyra to pick someone so thin as the winner.  "I mean Tyra Banks has to know these young women are role models to aspiring models at home watching on TV!"  Well, it was more of a rant.  And it was lengthy.   

I did calm down enough to ask her what she thought of Tyra’s body.

She replied, “Tyra is beautiful.  She’s normal looking.”

Tyra Banks is anything but normal looking.  She is gorgeous.  However, I was relieved that it sounded as if Sophia had a trace of a healthy perspective of body image.  But I was still worried.  Did my rant sound as if I was putting down an industry that has lit her fire of enthusiasm and has inspired her to dream?

Dreaming.  Fashion is fantasy.

This post, this topic, has no end in site.  It is one that continues on a daily basis as I navigate my way through mothering a fashionista daughter in our media saturated world.  It's interesting because I am finding my own opinions of the images I see of women have changed over time. For instance, I used to see Angelina Jolie as the epitome of beauty.  Today, I see her as an example of a person who needs to be treated for anorexia nervosa, and whose disease is ignored because our ideals of beauty have become sickly skewed.  And it makes me mad.  Nevertheless, I hope to not crush any of Sophia’s dreams of being a fashion editor.  Heaven forbid I become known to her as, “My mother the dream crusher.” 

 

There’s a balance.  I don't know if I will find it.  But I won’t give up. The information and connections to others available via the Web make giving up on any parenting issue an act of inexcusable fear.  

 To be continued. . .

This week is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.  For more information visit NEDA.

photo credit: pyrocam via photopin cc