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 Paradox of Beauty

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My girls have hair appointments at a salon somewhat randomly chosen from a list generated by that trusty search engine, Google.  I am nervous about this afternoon’s pending trip to the selected beauty establishment in the Short North, a trendy, artsy neighborhood here in Columbus.  Why be nervous?

First, this means I must style my own hair and find something presentable to wear other than my favorite red plaid flannel jammie pants that I’ve sported all week.  (Yes, my older daughter, Sophia, is planning to submit my photos to TLC's What Not to Wear).  Second, this means I must convince my girls that after five months, they do indeed need their hair trimmed.  For some reason, they think if they get a trim, their hair will cease to be long.  They do not understand that without regular pruning, their long flowing locks will turn into thin frayed wisps.  Lastly, I am not looking forward to meeting a new stylist.  The last two hair experts we’ve loyally employed turned out to be unstable professionally.  Oh, things always started out great. But one stylist stopped listening to what the client wanted for she could not hear over her own talking, and the other refused to return money paid for tinsel extensions that fell out in one hour.

The trip to the new-to-us salon cannot be avoided.  Next week Sophia is performing in her middle school’s musical.  She has the lead.  She can’t have stringy Marcia Brady hair and convincingly portray Winnifred the Woebegone.  Antonia, my younger daughter, complains every morning that she hates her hair.  This fascinates me because, although it does need shaped up, she has a gorgeous head of hair with perfect color, texture, and wave.  Are the talks about self-talk failing? 

So, haircuts, here we come.  

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Maybe it’s not the actual experience of the haircuts that I am dreading.  Maybe it’s that I despise the fact that I see my girls beginning to be crushed by the societal standards placed upon women to be pretty.  You know what, my girls are pretty—with hair or bald, new clothes or hand-me-downs, a broken out forehead or clear skin.   I am frustrated that they do not see their own beauty, honor it, embrace it, and give it the merit it deserves.  

This brings me to a heavily debated question.  What merit does beauty deserve?   

If beauty deserves no value, why am I concerned about my jammie pants?  I can chalk that one up to wanting to teach my girls what it means to be appropriately dressed and taken seriously.  Yet, left to be answered is why we celebrate celebrities and movie stars but put down the woman we pass on the street who needs to lose ten pounds?   

Maybe I'll make a statement against the value of beauty by rolling to the salon just as I am, right now, sitting at my kitchen table with no make-up applied, hair wild, and a Chihuahua comfortably cuddled in my lap.  Possibly too extreme.  I will continue to contemplate until it is time for this little dog on my lap to be let outside.  While he is frolicking in the winter sun, blissfully unaware of his beauty, I'll give in to societal standards by applying  my make-up and doing my hair.  The jammie pants?  That's a rough one.

  

Throw Out the Gold Stars

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When I began raising my daughters I was a proponent for the support of self-esteem development to the point of keeping them from situations that could be disappointing.  They received gold stars for making the bed, brushing their hair, being nice to each other. . . .   Bad idea.  I am still a believer that self-esteem matters, but my view has changed on how to be supportive, especially now that we are living in a world where everyone, even your child, is plugged in.

Technology and the internet are great tools that help us get a lot of our needs instantly met.  Kids, too, are able to satisfy most of their needs and desires through use these outside sources--resources found via the computer.  And I am sure you’ve experienced what occurs when the computer runs slow, or heaven forbid, Facebook is down—grunting, yelling at the screen, and the laptop snapping shut.  Is this how we want our kids to handle the failure of getting their needs met?

There are times when my daughter’s needs cannot be immediately met—Sally won’t be available to chat or her softball team loses the tournament.  She won’t always make the Honor Roll and I won’t always be home to fix the home network.   It is impossible to protect her from "losing" or "failing".  It's too exhausting and unrealistic.  And it causes the development of an emotional handicap, similar to not being able to handle the disappointment of hearing the word, "no".

In losing and failing, kids learn to deal with uncomfortable emotions.  When parents are there to be supportive when their child is experiencing uncomfortable emotions, the situation can prove to be an experience that increases self-esteem.  It teaches him that he is loveable no matter if he wins or loses and perpetuates his willingness to take healthy risks in the future.   More importantly, it prepares him to be ok with feelings that aren’t pleasant.  This is important because we do not want our kids to run from unpleasant feelings to drugs, alcohol, sex, the internet, food, and the like.

Losing is also an opportunity for children to explore their talents.  By all means, let your child try as many activities as she wants, but then use the not so successful experience to help her discern, "Is this my kind of thing, or do my talents lie elsewhere?"  If she always wins, how will she know what she does well?

And, no, we do not have to print out an award every time our kids complete a task.  Yes, when engaging in activities such as sports or theater, preparation and participation should be acknowledged as accomplishments because every activity requires self-discipline, commitment, and courage.  However, it is unrealistic to be extrinsically rewarded for every attempt our child makes (like getting a trophy for trying).  We must teach our children to honor themselves from a place within which supports the development of intrinsic motivation.  Otherwise, kids will only choose to participate if they are guaranteed a gold star.


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Judge it Mercilessly

I had a phone interview yesterday with a prospective employer.  I was nervous.  I thought I was more nervous than one would normally be during a phone interview.  Tomorrow I have a face-to-face interview with another prospective employer.  I am nervous.  In my mind, I am more nervous than normal.  But, what is normal?

According to Merriam-Webster's online dictionary nor-mal is: according with, constituting, or not deviating from a norm, rule, or principle.  

What does the typical stay-at-home mom with a 13 year tenure usually feel like when she reenters the workforce and changes careers?

Probably like me.

What am I going to do about this nervousness before it becomes a paralyzing issue?

I am going to start by coloring my hair.  The last time I did my hair it turned out deep blue.  It is noticeable only in certain light and from proper angles.  But I do not want to spend the entire interview with my head propped in a certain way.  It seems that would be odd and make the interviewer uncomfortable.

I am also going to focus on positive self-talk.  Remember Stuart Smalley?  Well, he was onto something.

During one of the nightly talks I have with my 13 year old daughter as I tuck her into bed, she expressed severe worry about what people may be thinking about her.  It occurred to me that the pressure to fit-in in middle school is as real as it was when I was a teen, if not worse.  I told her,

“The only thing you should judge about yourself is your self-talk.  Judge it mercilessly.” 

I have no idea where those two statements came from.  If the message was in my arsenal of parental sayings, I wasn't aware of its presence.

I have been following up by asking her about her self-talk.  She’s been answering with descriptions of combating self-doubt like a true lady warrior:

“Mom, I realized that if I wear something nice to school, I feel good and am able to concentrate all day.  I don’t worry about how I look.”

OK.  Awesome.

Or, “If I hear myself putting myself down, I say, ‘that’s not true’.”

I can surmise that she is putting into practice valuable life-skills.  I couldn’t be more relieved.  Check mark in the column labeled, tools to give daughter so that she does it differently than I did.

Negative self-talk has plagued me like consumerism and debt has plagued America.  Even when I was performing successfully in my first career—dance—I had the compulsion to constantly and harshly self-criticize.  It was rare for me to embrace a triumph or celebrate a victory. I have carried this auto-negative behavior with me right into the second act.  

Why?  I could look around the room for someone to blame.  I could blame the nature of the performing arts industry in which I was an active participant for many years.  I could blame the president, but he probably is having the same issue.  So, the fact that I spontaneously came up with that little tidbit of motherly advice was a moment of parenting grace.

For tomorrow’s interview, I'm going to color my hair and get a new sweater in honor of my daughter's new-found skill of self-care.  It was she who said, “. . . if I wear something nice . . . I feel good. . . .”

I am going to update my resume because the last time I looked at it the self-talk that occurred was, “That looks like the work of a kindergartener.”

Lastly, and you won't find this tip on Monster.com, I am going to watch clips of Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman .  Yeah.  Wonder Woman.  Because there was a time when I believed I could be her when I grew up.  If I get the color of my hair just right, I will be.