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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Chaotic Mornings Do NOT a Harmonious Mother-Daughter Bond Make...

This is how I envisioned my days as a mommy would be with my daughter....

I'm scrolling through Facebook this morning when I catch a glimpse of this sweet image of a mother and daughter picking flowers in a field and I start to cry.  I know it's just a painting, but somehow, it resonates with me because, I think in my mind, this is what I thought being a mommy to a little girl might look like. All the time. I know. It's not at all realistic. But yet, here I am, in tears. It's 10 a.m. on a Friday. The sun is shining on this November morning and it's payday in the Ryken house which means no more scrounging for change for at least a week. :)  Yet here I am, ruminating over the disastrous morning I believe I caused, thanks to my lifelong inability to control my temper. And over what, I ask myself. Over my daughter's lack of preparedness? How did it go so crazy?

Somehow we managed to go from a cheery good morning kiss on the cheek to &%^$#@! in mere minutes. It wasn't the lack of sleep because I rarely get more than four or five hours a night on any given day. It wasn't a lack of coffee. My husband has long since learned to hand me my coffee and back away quickly without speaking upon my waking up.

It was my lack of patience for a child who has been doing this get-ready-for-school-right-now drill for exactly as long as I have been doing it right along with her. So why, I ask, does she still not know to GET DRESSED and not pet the cat, start playing with her Lego castle or practice her jazz dance in the living room?

I'm very fortunate. My child is a good kid. She never gets in trouble for misbehaving or not following directions in school. She's a bright child. She makes good grades. In fact, she is an overachiever who will obsess over a B+. (I hated those kinds of kids in school...) I tell you this because, for the life of me, I cannot understand why she does NOT realize that the amount of times I must gently nag her to get her moving will directly correspond to the speed of my escalating anger and the decibel level of my shout, once I've reached my limit.   

This morning, after several semi-cheery reminders for her to get dressed, I walked upstairs, keys in hand, to see what was taking her so long, only to find her still half dressed and freaking out because she couldn't find her shoes. Mind you, she has THREE pairs of school shoes.

I tried to remain calm as I went through her closet and looked under the bed. No shoes. I looked in her dance bag. No shoes. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. I feel the anger start to rise. I try deep breathing. I picture my drive and I start to panic. We live off a long and winding road to the freeway. If we don't time it just right, that 18 mile drive to school becomes bogged down and then I will have to do my walk of shame into the school to sign her in. She knows I HATE that. I race downstairs and start looking everywhere for shoes, any shoes, at this point... I'll take any two shoes, even if they're mismatched.

How is it, I ask her, that we came home with shoes last night and yet they're nowhere in sight this morning? My voice is angry and loud and my child is looking as if Godzilla were stomping around and shouting instead of the sweet mommy she played tickles with last night. I push aside my momentary guilt and race back upstairs to get down to her level and in in her face to ask, loudly and with much anger, "WHY CAN'T YOU BE MORE RESPONSIBLE THAN THIS?"

At which point she becomes a puddle of tears. I, already angry with myself for losing it, yet madder for not having one &^%#$@! pair of shoes for her to slip on, do the unthinkable. I drop a couple of F-bombs as I'm stomping back downstairs. Then, suddenly I remember she slipped her shoes off in the car on the way to dance at least twice this week. The shoes were probably in the car! (and they were...)

On the drive to school, I was still angry but now mostly at myself. Yes, I should be reminding her to carry in her shoes at night. But she's still just a kid. I'm the grown-up. I'm the one who should stay in control. I start to nag her and remind her that THIS is why I ask her to lay our her clothes the night before. Because of course, shouting and swearing this morning wasn't enough punishment for this poor child to endure.  

After doing the walk of shame into the office where a cheery receptionist signed her in, I attempted to give my now sullen child a goodbye hug, only to be met with her back as she turned away and bolted up the stairs to her classroom.

Walking back to my car I was reminded of the many days I, myself, walked into classrooms with tearstains on my cheeks because of chaotic mornings with my own mom. I was about to go flog myself when I ran into another mom, whose daughter is in my daughter's class.

As we exchanged pleasantries, our kids' class walked by on their way to morning mass. My friend reached out to try and hug her daughter who was clearly angry at her mommy, too. We half-heartedly laughed and shared the fact that we'd both endured rough mornings with our girls. We joked about how much easier homeschooling might be, then wished each other a better day.

As I walked to my car I was thankful that God had put this other mom in my path this morning, to show me that I'm not alone in this morning battle of wills and to help me see it's actually pretty minor in the scope of things. By day's end, my daughter and I will be happy again, until the next chaotic morning rears its grumpy head. I realize this mother-daughter relationship is going to be filled with battle scars by the time she leaves home as a woman.

Meanwhile I'm going to remind myself today, as I'm reminding every mommy out there, that just as I never stop loving my daughter even when spitting mad, the feeling is mutual and she feels that same love toward me. And the same goes for YOU and YOURS. We're all gonna lose our patience and our tempers will flare. They're gonna hate us for it, temporarily. But we're all gonna be OK because our love is stronger than all this superficial strife put together. And if our human capacity to love is THAT strong here on earth, can you just imagine how strong God's love is for all of us, no matter how imperfect we are?

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An Intimate Downsizing: Sorting Through Mixed feelings about my Two Breast Friends

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Back-to-school letter to my fourth grade daughter

Every year, I write my daughter a "pep talk" letter for the new school year. This year, because I recently shared  with you all my "tween" angst, I thought I'd share my letter with you because a lot of it will be relevant to all fourth graders.

 

 

August 11, 2014

My darling Marlena,

Where has the time gone? Today you will start fourth grade!  Seems only yesterday I was curling your hair tightly and walking you into the kindergarten building for the first time, part of me hoping you’d jump right into the new experience and the other part hoping you’d reach back for me and beg me to take you home. Because you are your momma’s daughter, however, you dove headfirst into your new surroundings and by the end of the week you had your first new friends.

In the last four years, I’ve watched you go through the transition of leaving all our family and friends in Michigan behind to move to a new state, begin school, learn to read and write, make friends and become your own little person.  It’s such a joy to watch you grow.   I have to hold back tears with every passing year and new phase you enter and I hope you’ll forgive your mommy for being mushy. I’ve shed tears of joy, pride and yes, a little bit of sadness as I grieved the end of your sweet little girl years.  As much as it might bother you, please understand that I love to capture nearly every cute moment of your life on camera. It’s because there isn’t a minute of my time with you that I want to ever forget once I’m a little old lady in a rocking chair, so please bear with me when I run and grab my camera or iPhone. :)

So about fourth grade….it’s kind of hard to see what this new school year holds for you. In Kindergarten, you learned how to read and the Golden Rule. You had your big “graduation” to look forward to. First grade was all about learning how to be a good student and getting through the day with two snacks and timing your potty breaks. Second grade, the highlight you prepared for all year long was your First Holy Communion. Third grade will go down as what you called your "hardest year yet" because it was really the first year the teachers truly expected your homework to be turned in on time, complete and

with all the right answers. I bet you’ll someday look back and call 3^rd grade the year you realized that school was no longer all fun. J  Your biggest challenge all year was getting enough AR points to go to Lake Winnie. You worked really hard and although it took you to the day before the field trip, you not only made 100 points, you made 101! I am so proud of you for never giving up! Thank you for trying so hard every year!

I’m sure there are so many things you’ll learn this year but instead of focusing on your schoolwork, I’m going to give you a few tips that I hope you’ll use in fourth grade and for the rest of your life.

On schoolwork:

·       Always give everything you’re taught your full attention and never be afraid to ask questions until you fully understand it. There are no stupid questions and just maybe, something you dare to ask the teacher is exactly what someone else in your classroom wanted to know but was afraid to raise his or her hand and ask. When it comes to learning, be BOLD and ask until you understand.  

·       I want you to know that not every class from here on out will be so easy for you and that's OK. You know I’m not the kind of parent who will punish a bad grade so please never worry about that. My only expectation is that you gave it your all and you never kept your teacher or your mommy & daddy from knowing any struggle you’re having. Never be afraid to share this, especially with ME.

On people & friendships

·       Sometimes no matter how nice you are to a person, he or she might just be mean. Or insensitive. Or selfish. The list can go on & on. I know your first instinct is to be like your hot-headed mommy and to show your anger in order to try to look tough. If there is any area I hope you don’t take after me in, it’s in the temper area. It took me more than 40 years to learn that anger and a short temper get you nothing but a lot of “I’m sorry’s” and more anger. Always try to keep your anger from bubbling over and spilling out at least until you’ve had the chance to stop, pause, take a breather and think about a better response, one that will get your point across without causing a big blowup. I’m not saying to hold back and not have your opinions be heard but I’m saying to do it in a calm manner. You can catch more bees with honey, sweetie. Oh how I wish I knew this decades ago! 

·       There’s always gonna be drama and conflict with your friends. It’s all part of how you  area learning to deal with each other. If you do nothing else, just remember it’s not as serious as it feels right then and it helps to be quick to make up and move on. If someone apologizes, accept it. If you’re misunderstood or lost your temper, YOU be big enough to say you’re sorry. People appreciate it and even the toughest mean girl out there has a heart, deep down. 

·       Remember that every person you deal with, whether it’s a busy teacher, a mean girl or that pesky boy in homeroom, has God in their heart, too. Mother Theresa once said to see the face of Jesus in every person you meet. Seeing Jesus in others is how we all take care of each other. 

 

·       I know you love having my old iPhone to play with, to text your friends and to play games on, but using the phone with your friends around is simply not polite. Please don’t point to me when I say this. I’m a different case. I’ve had years to make and retain friendships. I didn’t have my head in my cell phone every time I met a new group of friends. If I did I guarantee you I’d not have as many lifelong friends that I have today. Try this: Be the girl who makes each and every person feel like he or she is the most important person in the room at that very minute. I've read many biographies about very important people, presidents and kings and queens, who do this. It's not only polite, people will always appreciate it about you. Trust me on this. You’ll be an unforgettable friend.

·       Don’t be a slave to a machine….Smart phones make life so much easier. I keep my calendar and basically my whole life on mine these days. But I also believe that nothing replaces a phone call to a relative or a friend. Maybe it's easier to text with your friends. But wouldn't it be more fun to play with them in person? I hope that when you grow up to have a smart phone of your own, you and your friends will remember that no gadget, a phone or a computer, will EVER replace real people.

·       If you see someone who is alone, or sad, or struggling, never hesitate to reach out to that person.  Same goes for a person being bullied. I know you’ll always be that person’s biggest support so I won’t say anything more about this. I’ve seen you in action. You’re great at this! J

·       Always remember someone’s name and one little fact about him or her. This is fun for you and means a lot to that person. Think about the time someone did that to you. You felt so good knowing someone took the time to actually learn about you and they remembered it, am I right?

On GOD:

·       You will always have God in your corner,  He is as close to you as speaking His name. Talk to Him every single day, even when you’re not in school. Thank Him, praise Him, confide in Him but most of all TRUST Him. If there is something you’re being challenged by, just ask God to show what HE hopes you'll do. YOU choose what you want to do but He is always there to guide you. Please know you can ask Him WHY something happened. But remember you must also quiet yourself down to hear His answer in your heart. The old saying goes that God couldn't be EVERYWHERE, so He made parents. OK so we know technically He can be everywhere, but stop being so literal, just like your engineer father.  :) 

On singing and dancing

·       You're a wonderful singer and dancer. Your voice comes from God. Always thank Him for it and honor God in all you do with your voice and body.

·       Know that as good as you are, there will always be something new to learn and there will always be someone out there who can do what you can do. I don’t have to say this because you never do this….but as you grow and get even more experienced, never, ever let it go to your head. (I think even more than your voice, I'm proud of how you NEVER brag about it and I just know you won’t start doing it, but as your mom, I still need to remind you.)

·       Also know that every talent still takes practice. It might come naturally but unless you want to stay the same the rest of your life you must seriously practice your skills and not only during your voice lessons or dance classes.

·       If you’re struggling, if anything ever becomes too much, you will never disappoint us if you want to back off or stop altogether. TELL us. We will help you work it out. You are only 9. You can decide what you want to do a bunch of times in your lifetime!

·       HAVE FUN!!  Singing and dancing are some of life's purest joys and they are among the best ways to honor God!!

On your parents:

·       We will always be here to boss you around. It’s what we do. But it’s only because never in your life will you have two better cheerleaders in your corner. The only thing we’d hold you back from are the things that are not good for you. This is not up for discussion. Until you're a grown-up we'll make the big decisions about what you eat, wear, watch on TV and who you hang around with. End of story.

·       There is a big difference between speaking up and voicing your opinion and being disrespectful. Daddy and I will never stop you from expressing yourself. But shouting at us will get you nowhere. It only causes more trouble between us. Let’s work on keeping the peace. PLEASE. (I’ll do this too!) Let's use our journals and remember to use our funny word: "Snagglepuffin."

·       Daddy and I are the two people on the planet you can trust to the moon and back, so never be afraid to share things with us. Some kids don’t get that chance. Maybe they have trouble at home or they have one parent who works two jobs to make ends meet. Maybe they don't live with family. Be blessed knowing you have parents you can use us as sounding boards, people you talk to who will help you make decisions with NO motive (look up that word) other than wanting the absolute best for your happiness.

And finally, on living day to day as a fourth-grader:

Smile. Be happy and find time to be silly and laugh. EVERY day.  You have YEARS to be a grown up. Trust me, it's overrated and not as much fun as you think it looks right now.  Don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up too fast. I know you hear it a lot. But fourth grade is the perfect age to run outside and play in the rain. And to take your dolls for a walk in the wagon. And make funny faces with your friends. And swing as high as you can on a swing set at the playground. And to sing into your hairbrush and pretend the bathroom mirror is your audience. (Not that I'd know about THAT...) LOL ;) 

Sometimes I get grumpy or tired or impatient. Sometimes I get frustrated by things you say or do that don't fall into the lines I want you to fall into but that's something we will work through in the coming years. Meanwhile it's important that no matter WHAT you think, the one thing that is constant in your life is my love. You must remember that you’re the beautiful, sweet-natured child I prayed to God for every day, for many years.  You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a daughter. Every day of our life together is a delicious journey for me. I'm sure we’ll have lots of arguments. You’ll make me mad, I’ll embarrass you. But one thing will NEVER CHANGE. I will love you forever "to infinity and beyond, beyond, beyond" until the day I am no more. And then I'll just love you from the stars.  

Love,

MOMMY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On parenting a "T'ween" girl...



This sassy look used to be cute on my child...but now it's becoming a reality!

Pssssst. Hey moms of sweet little toddler girls: I’ve got a secret but before I spill, you’d better sit down and hug your little tu-tu-wearing girl really tight and take in all of her sweetness right now. I’ll wait.  You see, I was once where you are. As I tucked my three-year-old daughter into bed I thought I had so much time before she grew tired of tea parties and bedtime stories. I had my mind set on or about age 11 or 12 before the dreaded moodiness of teenage hormones begin to seep in and invade the walls of our happy little home.

My own darling daughter Marlena was born in March, 2005. When you’re walking your fussy baby at 2 a.m. you do a lot of trivial thinking. I did the math and I knew that 2018 was the year she’d turn 13. But that was a loooooooong way off, I told myself.

 

 

My pre-baby memory told me that nine-year-old girls are FUN. They can be your little helper at home, and playing with others is a dream. They play with their dollies and they chatter endlessly about girly things. No one fusses or argues, they’re perfectly agreeable about everything. Sleepovers are a dream, they giggle until midnight and then drop off to sleep, only to wake up and skip outside to play some more ‘till their parents come and round them up. There are no petty complaints or mild jealousies because of course, that’s only in high school and then only in the first year, right?

Yeeeah that was some funny fiction right there but listen up: here’s what they don’t tell us mommies of girls. Those milestone markers for each age….you know… the ones that say they will be potty-trained by 18 months and outgrowing the binky by two are NOT exactly accurate.

Just as I haughtily thought I had sailed through the terrible twos, only to discover that age THREE was the year my sweet chubby cherub morphed into a little three-headed monster, the traditional baby year markers are flawed. There’s no easy way to break this to you so I’ll just tell you that nine… is the new 13.

I know. It was a shock to me, too. I learned this only the other night, as I sat at my computer, wide awake at 3 a.m., scrolling the Internet desperate to find everything and anything on how to deal with “tween drama.” This HAD to be a fluke, I told myself. This bickering with the little girlfriends she loved and was always begging to have over for playdates. The increasingly frequent spats I was having with this child who only five minutes ago thought I hung the moon. The eyerolls, foot stomps and the change from the way she used to call my name “Mommy?” to the now overly-exasperated “MOOOOOOOOMMMMM…”

Marly still has a little bit of her chubby cheeks left and she still carries her “Snoodle,”  her equivalent to a blanky. Yet after consulting nearly every mom I know and trust who has or raised daughters, I’m afraid the evidence is stacked against my delusions.

It seems I’ve entered into uncharted waters. I’m now parenting a “tween.” I used to hear that term and laugh, before I had one of my own. To me, it was strictly a marketing term designed to pitch beauty products to a younger audience. I mean, c’mon, a nine-year-old is still a sweet little girl who plays with Barbie Dolls and reads Tiger Beat Magazine.  She still believes in fairytales and she loves her mommy sooooo much, right? After all, I did…or did I?  It’s one of those things I’ll never be able to ask my mom but I recently asked my dad if he remembered me being so….well, teen-age-y….at my daughter’s age.

“Ohhhh, I don’t know,” was his answer. “Your mother handled all of that stuff.”

I know there were squabbles. I vividly remember having a screaming match with my mom on picture day as I scrambled to get out the door that morning. I don't recall what it was about but today I still detect puffy eyes whenever I look at that picture of myself.

When such little dramas arose, however, the most I ever did was slam my bedroom door, throw myself onto my little bed and scream into my pillow for 30 seconds. That usually did the trick and I’d be out the door and back into the sunshine in mere minutes.

With my daughter, the smallest things seem to be filled with such drama and it takes less and less to make my once sweet-natured child angry. Most days she’s happy and carefree and thankfully, at least as far as I can tell, I’ve been able to keep her fairly innocent to things I know are just around the corner. Lately, though, there are more moments when it feels like she’s morphing out of the sweet little girl I love right before my very eyes.

It recently occurred to me that maybe I’m watching MYSELF morph from the mommy she idolized only last year into the dreaded "nag" mom all teens think they "report" to....how could it be that I had a love-fest with this child just last summer?


These days, even reminding her to make her bed or get some reading done before school starts is tantamount to me "yelling" at her and in her eyes, acting as if she'd committed a major crime. Another hallmark of dramatic teens, and hence, T'weens, is exaggerated overreactions. To.Every.Little.Thing.Mom.Says.

She seems to be growing bored of me, too. For instance, when I turn off the radio during our commutes, so that we can just talk, I’m now met with a deep sigh and an exasperated plea to turn Ariana Grande back on so she can hear the rest of her song. NOW.

Even though I pride myself on being a hip mom, dressing appropriately without being frumpy and being able to keep up with kids’ pop culture, I still seem to easily embarrass her just because I’m her mom. The other day she glared at me all through lunch because I asked her, while shopping at Target, if her bike shorts for underneath her school jumper were getting too tight and would she like a couple new pairs. First came the eye roll, followed by the punctuated whisper, asking if we HAVE to talk about that HERE? In the store?  You’d have thought I’d discussed the birds & bees in mixed company! After all, I was standing in the school uniform area where the bike shorts were conveniently on display…

The girl drama that is a rite of passage for all of us seems to come about way earlier and it's way more intense than it was when I was her age.  I also see more drama stemming from technology, these days.  For instance, we all know how an innocent text, minus cadence and facial expression, can send even the most confident adult over the edge if something gets lost in translation, am I right? Imagine, then, how badly a little girl can overreact to an innocent text message that goes unanswered or worse, is met with a one-word answer.

“Is she mad? I think she’s mad. Do YOU think she’s mad?”

“Mommy look at this picture. Do you think she sent that picture because she’s trying to show off that she went to Disney and I haven’t gone yet? They think it’s lame that you haven’t taken me to Disney yet. WHY haven’t we gone to Disney yet?”

“I KNOW she's not texting back because she doesn’t care about me.”

She only has my old iPhone that she uses to play games and text a few approved friends but this texting business is tough for little ones. It can be tough on their confident mommies, too. I’m doing my best to keep her use of that little used iPhone to a minimum and no number of her own till 14...of course I remember saying she'd not wear dangly earrings till 12, too...

This drama, coupled with the fact that she lives in a house built into the side of a hill, with no kids to play with living in the immediate neighborhood and no flat land or sidewalks on which to ride her bike and you can see my frustration this summer. Unless I drop everything to call another parent and drive her to their house at least a few miles away, she’s either reading or she’s bored and all that time on her hands makes her THINK.TOO.MUCH.

Our anticipated move in the coming months will remedy at least this part, I hope, and perhaps living in a neighborhood filled with kids her age, like the one in which I grew up will remove some of the current angst and drama and replace it with the more fun, carefree aspects of being nine or 10. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Still, I know that this “tween” phase is only a small preparation for what lies ahead a few short years from now, when I imagine my daughter’s colorful, bling wardrobe will change into Goth black and her mood will follow.   

Just as I sat here tonight trying to finish this entry, my moody girl from earlier climbed onto the couch beside my desk, put her little arms around me and kissed my cheek.

Marly: “Whatcha writing about?”

Me: “You, actually.”

Marly: Are you tellin’ about my dance showcase today?”

Me: “I’m writing about how hard it is to watch you grow up.”

Marly: “Awww Mommy, I already told you! I’m gonna grow up to be a singer and dancer and when I make enough money I’m gonna buy you and daddy a big mansion and I’m gonna buy one right next door for me with a connecting underground passage so we can just run back and forth in bad weather.”

Me: (tears welling up) “I’d like nothing better, beebee.”

Marly: “OK now come tuck me and all my babies into bed, Mommy.”

And just like that my so-called “T’ween” was in her bedroom kissing every stuffed animal goodnight as I called each one by name. Tonight I lingered longer than usual after she fell asleep, feeling both a sweet joy and a tough tug at my heartstrings as I reflected how far we’ve come these past nine years,  knowing how quickly the next nine years will fly, all the while thanking God for it all.

 

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