A doll with her period?? AM I the ONLY mom who needs a break from all this reality??

This Llamily doll now comes with feminine protection. Shall we make another doll with zits and yet another with mood swings as well?

  OK so I'll be the first to admit I'm a TAD old-school and quite eager to share my opinions with family and friends. I'll also say that this past year I've done my best to TRY and hold off on oversharing these said opinions, especially on really harsh political posts on social media, etc. Today, though, I could NOT hold off and I raced to my blog to post on it!

 

Apparently, there's now a doll you can buy your little girl to help her prepare for her first period. (I'll pause so you can absorb that and maybe giggle a little, like I did...)

 

Now....before you go on to chastise me by saying this is all good for the girls and how much "easier" it will be for these poor little souls to understand what is happening to their bodies, let me just stop you right there.

 

I'm sorry but folks, is there NOTHING in life anymore that can be just...explained and then experienced as it happens without a lot of fanfare? Can't anything just be straightforward anymore? Must there be a ceremonial doll or special gift for EVERY single rite of passage?

 

Why can't a mother & daughter just...oh, I don't know...talk about it & be ready, & that's all?? Or am I being TOO old-school? 

 

My daughter, Marly is 10, and while many will frequently comment on how composed and mature and wise she appears to behave, she is still, after all, only a 10-year-old child and she is also heading into those t'ween years with reckless abandon. She now becomes more embarrassed than she ever used to and I'm doing my level best to keep the dialogue between us open! That being said, there is no way I could ever, with a straight face, hand her a doll that comes with feminine protection and expect her to think I understand all that is going on inside her little head these days.

 

  

Is it me or is there just TOO much reality in our lives anymore? I mean we already see women in labor, we see couples in every imaginable sexual position and we see people having plastic surgery, transgender reassignment, we see famous families and Amish families and 600 lb people and hoarders and runway models and singing and dancing and ....have I missed anything or anyone?

 

Remember sitcoms? Remember escaping into the Carol Burnett Show for an hour and laughing away your troubles? Can we not have to have EVERY thing be ...well....a THING?

 

A girl's first period is always going to be...pretty major and I am in no way trying to diminish it. But MUST we BUY stuff to make it special?? I'm all for capitalism but must it always be about how someone can make money off of it?

 

I have nothing but memories to remember how I was prepared for that time in my own life, but I still remember it 40 plus years later. Our talk was prompted by a note sent to all mothers of 5th graders. I remember the day mom drove me to school and how all the boys were ushered out of the classrooms so that we mothers and daughters could spend the mornings seated in little chairs together to watch a  black and white movie that I think was probably made around 1957, about the pending visit of our monthly friend.

 

We all watched, kind of in dazes, as the school nurse drew V-shaped diagrams of on the chalkboard and our moms nodded with fixed smiles on their faces. It was all so confusing.

 

The whole thing concluded with us all receiving little pink gift bags and 28-day calendars that we couldn't wait to begin using. :) We all whispered to each other every day, checking in,  on our insane race to womanhood. Who would be first? Who would take the longest?

 

Those of us who were among the early bloomers (and I was one of them) would roll our eyes and look down on the other mere mortals who didn't understand our cramps and discomfort. We felt we were in solidarity with our moms and teachers. We were now WOMEN, after all. What little we knew then.

 

But there were no dolls or reality movies or parties to mark the occasion. My mom took me out to dinner and bought me some girly things. But that was it, and it remains a sweet memory. I hope for Marly's sake that day doesn't happen for a few more years...I was HER age when it happened to me... but I for one, will neither mark the occasion with public fanfare nor buy her some silly little doll to prepare her.

 

Love it or hate it, and I realize, despite the years of whining that without it I'd have no daughter at all, our time of the month is a part of life and as we ladies all know, our girls certainly won't need a silly little doll to serve as a physical reminder of what will remain a huge part of their feminine lives for years to come.  But if you do buy the doll, please, for your daughter's sake, present it to her in a place where NO ONE else will see it! ;)

 

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Thanks to Social Media, Mom Cheerleaders Help Us All Get Through The Summertime Body Blues

Me, in all my glorious 17 year-old-bikini self...and to think I thought I was "fat!" (sigh...what I wouldn't give now...)

It all started with me not wanting to wear a swimsuit to my daughter's recreational day with her dance team a few weeks ago. I lamented with my friends on Facebook that I was not "ready" to wear one while I was among the other dance moms. I explained that I had been through two surgeries and a move from one house to another within the last year, all of which prevented me from resuming any sort of fitness regime. In my post I added, in a joking manner, that I was also pasty white and would look horrible. I didn't expect so many replies but I was so happy to see my fellow moms cheering me on, urging me to be proud and wear what I wanted to without feeling badly about my 50-year-old post-baby body.

The next week I had a few friends tag me in posts about moms wearing bathing suits. It made me realize I'm not alone in this insecurity and it helped me go easy on myself. It got me to thinking about the roles we play in each others' lives. This week I realized one of the things I love most about Facebook. Say what you will about the drama and poisonous political rants we've all fallen prey to, but when I feel like venting about something as trivial as hating to wear a swimsuit, I love the support I can get from my friends out there.


Last month I started a health kick where I was eating ONLY fruits & veggies. The first few days were hell but I took strength from friends who encouraged me when I choked down a kale smoothie or said I hated trying to run in this heat. Their encouragement sticks with me now as I continue on in my now-modified health kick...I wasn't kidding anyone, least of all myself, when I said I'd NEVER eat bread again, but I'm definitely doing with LESS then ever before. :)

Whether we're busy moms or models, body-builders or couch potatoes, NONE of us are ever completely satisfied with our bodies. I now shudder to think about how "fat" I thought I was at 26, when I jumped from a size 5 to an (gasp) 8! Or how traumatized I was when found myself wearing a size 12-14 after giving birth 10 years ago. Like age, I should have reminded myself that a clothing size is also just a number. While I'm not gonna lie... maintaining a healthy body weight is important for our health... it's also equally important that we cut ourselves some slack and focus on what we aren't, we should celebrate what we ARE.

Instead of berating myself that I'm never going to be the toned cheerleader I was in college or that my middle is softer than it once was, maybe I should applaud the fact that my body created and carried a human being and that I gave birth well past the age considered medically "safe" or "normal." I should consider it a bonus that I'm able to keep up with a child at my age.



Me in all my old-lady post-baby glory, 2012, before my breast reduction.

If you hate something about yourself, and you can do so, then change it! I did....I spent most of my life carrying around a very large "rack." It prevented me from wearing certain types of clothing and doing certain physical activities. So I had reduction surgery. But first I had to fight with the insurance company to explain why I needed it done. Best decision I ever made.  I contemplated a complete "mommy makeover" at the time. I could have easily had a tummy tuck since I was told I was the perfect candidate, that I was mostly in decent shape except for that middle section and emergency  C-section pouch. It was a big decision for me, we'd have had to pay an additional $5k upfront. I consulted friends who'd had it done. They all swore it was worth and I believe that. But even if I had  to undergo the cost and the painful procedure and recovery, I had to ask myself would it have been worth all I'd have wanted to put my family through at this point in my life just to say I finally had a flat tummy? Did I really want to disrupt my family during those weeks and months I'd need to rely on others to chauffer my child to school, dance and music lessons? My answer was no. Again, I'm not gonna lie.... today there are many days, especially as I'm trying on swimsuits, that I wish I'd had the tummy tuck. What looks great and perfect for me on a hanger almost always disappoints me.

And that's where my cheerleader moms from Facebook come back in. They lift my sagging spirits (and tummy LOL) and encourage me to own and love my body TODAY not to dwell on the body I hope to have after I get back in shape or the body I'll never have again. When I'm blessed enough to see these girls on trips home to Michigan, I never notice what size we all are. I'm too busy focusing on their beautiful smiles and lovely peals of laughter. That's one thing I love about being in this 5th decade of my life. We're all there in the trenches together and the judgments of our 20s and 30s is now long gone. It's really a peaceful time where body image is concerned. I might have had a toned body but I was so stressed out trying to maintain it that truthfully I'd never go back to those days now.

In the end, we're all pulling for each other because as moms we rarely have the time to focus on ourselves. I do so appreciate the beautiful ladies in my life, (many of whom I've known since I was a tiny size 3) who remind me to love myself when I get too busy to remember to do that on my own. It's such an important lesson for my own daughter who at 10, still has NO IDEA how much of a love-hate relationship she's already embarking on with her own little tiny dancer body.

One thing's for certain, as I help her to navigate her impending journey through adolescence, I'm going to let her hear how much I love and respect all the things my old bones have been through and I'll also remind her to surround herself with beautiful, happy, lifelong female friends like I have done, so she'll have her own cheerleaders later on in life, when she needs them.

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Say Cheese! Don't Let Your Vanity Rob You of Tangible Memories of Today....

One of the few family pictures with Mom, Daddy, Brother Mark and yours truly,
 Easter Sunday, 1969, at Gramma Lena's house, Detroit

 

Today,on Easter Sunday, 2015, I'd like to take a moment to share some personal advice, for whatever it's worth.Consider it my personal public service announcement to you for your own future. It's short and it's sweet. Here it is: No matter what YOU might think you look like, please don't let your self-consciousness over a few extra pounds or wrinkles, bad teeth, a terrible haircut or even your disdain for yourself in that awful Christmas sweater stop you from posing for pictures with your family. And don't YOU always be the one to take the pictures, either.Whether you're all together on major holidays, at weddings, reunions, birthdays or any other such family gatherings, get someone to stop and take a picture with YOU in it. It might sound redundant in an era of endless "selfies," but all too often, there's at least one person in every group who won't allow him or herself to be photographed.

 

Growing up, that person was my mom. With thick, dark, blue-black hair and huge black-brown eyes, I thought my tiny, curvy mom was beautiful. She, however, still only saw herself as the little girl in a wheelchair she once was. No matter how pretty or well-dressed she ever was, and believe me she used to be a looker in her day, Mom was always the first person to dash when we gathered for photographs. And that was when she was still very young and vibrant. As I became a teen and then a young adult, my sweet mom became even more emphatic in her protests of being included in pictures. Personally,I never got that. Call me a ham or whatever you'd like but even as a child, I knew that pictures lasted a lifetime and that I'd always want to remember the great times I enjoyed.

 

Now that I'm in the fifth decade of my own life I do get where Mom was coming from...in a huge way. Most of us don't like ourselves in pictures to begin with...(I'm sure that's how the edit features of our smartphones came to be in the first place.) For me, posing in pictures these days, quite frankly, is humbling, especially for a woman who spent years performing in theater productions as a singer and dancer and as former college pompon girl and even a local beauty queen. Dare I say it just might be harder for someone like me to face the harsh reality of time passing, only because of how easy it used to be for me to just smile and say "cheese" and trust that the pictures would always be perfect?

 

In these days of social media, there's nothing more horrifying than posing in a family or group picture and then being tagged on Facebook, only to see a double chin you didn't know you had or that the outfit you thought looked so good on you when you left the house now appears to be unflattering in the cruelest way.

 

But trust me, these things you and I feel about our physical selves are not seen in the eyes of those who love us. The times you share with your family will stay in your memories forever but someday, perhaps long after you're gone, your children and their children will want to see you included in those family pictures.

 

Two weeks from today, I'll mark the 15th anniversary of my mom's untimely death. She was 58.Only two weeks earlier, my brother got married and I can remember my mom, as usual, trying to dodge the cameras of family and friends who wanted to snap mom in her wedding finest.I remember thinking, and saying to her, how shallow and vain I thought she was being. I'll never forget her telling me that one day I'd understand....when I'm older and I won't be able to trust that I'll look good in every single picture.

 

Only 14 days after that conversation, I was desperately searching for more than a handful of recent pictures of mom to use in her memorial. I realized how increasingly fewer pictures there were of mom with every passing year. I made a vow that I'd never do that to MY family. (Of course, that vow was made 15 years ago. Before I married. Before I became a mommy. Before time and gravity really started to take over. It's easier said than done. )

 

So today, although I felt exhausted, out of shape and totally less than pulled together, I forced myself to pose for a family picture on the church steps.

 

I winced when I looked at it and immediately started to point out my flaws. I try never to do that in front of my 10-year-old daughter but this time I was unable to stop myself. My daughter stopped me immediately, using my own words to remind me how beautiful I was in God's eyes and how mad I always get to hear her put herself down. Again I winced and prayed silently that someday when she looks at old pictures of our family from this day, she won't remember me saying such awful things about myself.

 

Today, we're all as young and vibrant as we'll ever be again and we're all too painfully aware that none of us are promised tomorrow. So.....set aside the pride or vanity and stand up and pose for that picture! Smile and own the fact that you're God's precious creation and that He made NO mistakes in how you once looked or how you look today. After we're gone, all that's left will be photographs and memories. People love us for who we are not what we look like on any given day. Should we be so lucky as to someday blow out candles on our 90th (or more) birthdays, we'll not notice one such flaw! Get yourself back into those photos. Your friends and family, and most especially your children left behind, will thank you. Happy Easter. Say Cheese!

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