The #1 Challenge in Raising a Daughter

It's often said that it's easier to raise boys than girls. I guess that's true, though for me it's not about Abby herself, but rather her interaction with the world that makes having a daughter more challenging. I don't worry what people will think if Ian's shorts are too short. I'm not as concerned that someone will try to physically take advantage of Ian. I don't give much consideration as to whether Ian's "behavior" will cause people to talk, or whether others think he's a "bitch" for being smart, competitive and driven to succeed. These are real concerns for me with my daughter, however. And I would add to this list: society's definition of beauty.

No matter how confident we are, regardless of our level of self-esteem, at some point in our lives every single one of us has wondered whether we're good enough. I was at the pool this weekend, and as I walked the perimeter looking for an empty chair, I felt like I was on display. I was self-conscious about my less than perfectly toned thighs and I cursed the blemishes on my face. And when I found a chair and settled in, I looked at every other woman who walked by and tried to figure out whether I was more or less attractive than her. At the age of 13, I'm sure Abby already has compared herself to her peers, and if her self-confidence is what it should be, she's not concerned about how she measures up. But, unfortunately, someday she will be.

Though I stopped reading parenting books when the kids were little because they made me feel badly about my skills (the same reason I don't read Better Homes & Gardens, Self, or a single cooking magazine), the one thing I remember is that, as parents, the example we set is the number one influence on our children's lives. If we are committed to our faith, eating well and living a healthy lifestyle, our children are more likely to be similarly committed (maybe not as quickly as we'd like, but someday). If we demonstrate kindness, service to others and a strong work ethic, our children will likely do the same (or at least one of our children will pick up these traits). Naturally, the negatives apply here as well. If we put ourselves first in every way, judge others and allow ourselves to be consumed by bitterness and hate, we're raising kids who may do the same (unless they decide to be completely different because they are ashamed of us). If we have no use for reading and lifelong learning, exercising or spending money wisely, well, you get the picture. What I'm taking a long time to say is that a mom's self-image can have dramatic effects on her daughter(s). If I complain about my weight and my blemishes and I constantly compare myself to others, Abby may very likely follow suit. And let's face it, the last thing our daughters need is any help in feeling badly about themselves.

So why this topic now? Probably because I watched the whole season of American Idol and Jennifer Lopez is just depressing as hell at look at every week. And then there's Jennifer Aniston who reportedly wants to lose 10 pounds before her wedding, which is good news because her shape was starting to concern me. But then, on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have Aussie mom Tara Brumfitt who has embraced the "reverse progress body movement," showing off her rock solid body builder physique "before" and her soft, beautiful, mommy figure "after." With her daughter as her motivation, Tara's working on a documentary called Embrace. “How will I teach my daughter to love her body?” she wrote on her website. “How am I going to encourage her to accept and love her body, when I am standing in front of her with a surgically enhanced body? What type of hypocrite or mother would I be?”

I had a friend recently confess that she considered breast implants, but when she thought of the message it would send her daughter, she decided against it. This was in sharp contrast to another friend who offered her physically fit, athletic 12-year-old daughter a reward if she lost some weight.

I don't generally say much about my weight in front of Abby, but where I increasingly have expressed frustration and insecurity is with the appearance of my face. From first time fever blisters and recent breakouts that take weeks to clear, to those obvious fine lines above my lips and the dark circles under my eyes, I know I'm growing older and I feel considerably less attractive. And this is obvious to Abby because I recently bought stock in Mary Kay cosmetics and am having their makeup and skin care solutions shipped directly to our house by the palate.

I used to be an all-natural kind of girl like my mom, who never wore anything on her face except lipstick, But now I'm using special facial cleanser and zit cream. I bought foundation powder. And just last week, I asked my Mary Kay rep to stop by and give me a makeup lesson. She showed up with a case larger than most of my pieces of luggage, and tried to sell me everything under the sun. Rather than just covering those dark circles, I really need their special heavy duty eye cream. If my blemishes aren't clearing up with the treatment she sold me, then I may need to wash with another Mary Kay product. She showed me numerous combinations of eye shadow colors, and lipsticks that I could brighten with a separate purchase of gloss. She left with my order for mascara (waterproof, of course), eye shadow, eye liner and blush/bronzer, but what was most interesting about this sales call visit was the rep's interaction with Abby, who sat at the table and judged whether what I was being pitched actually made a difference.

The Mary Kay rep tried to hook Abby like a drug dealer. "Ooh, I bet you'll like this eye shadow." Nope. Abby doesn't wear eye shadow. "Oh, how about these great lip pencils." Nope. Abby doesn't wear lip color. "This gloss would be fun, right?" Abby explained that she prefers the EOS lip balm. Mission Failed. That's my girl. You don't need makeup, my dear. Your natural beauty is undeniable. I can only hope that she will avoid painting her face simply because mom does, and as a teenager, it's important to avoid anything that makes you look like your mom.

So that's my two cents on how society's notion of beauty makes raising girls more difficult than parenting their brothers. I'd love to know your thoughts on the subject!

Saying Goodbye to Sandra Dee

There were signs that I was moving in this direction, but I do believe it's now official. I have become a prude. As I reflect on this development, I can point to three things that pushed me to my "prude awakening:"

1. Young girls in short, and I mean short, skirts and dresses.
2. Laundering the skivvies of a certain young woman 
3. The musical Grease as performed at our high school.

Each of these forces combined in a relatively brief period of time so as to effectively "wig me out" and cause me to panic about my rapidly maturing tween and teen.

A couple weeks ago I addressed the dress, or lack thereof, of today's young ladies. Picture me in Downton Abbey attire with a British accent saying "Improper, unrefined, and in bad taste. Does your mother know what you're wearing?"

Regarding the undergarments of a charming and beautiful almost-18-year-old ice hockey player, well, let's just say she's not shopping at Target or through the Hanes catalog. Frankly I'm not sure why women bother wearing things that are so barely there. If I'm being honest, I'm most upset because her lingerie confirms that I have been wearing granny panties for the past 40 years. I missed my sexy lingerie stage altogether.

The reason this is affecting me to such a degree is because my own daughter is a teenager-to-be. While I sure as hell won't buy her Frederick's of Hollywood bras and panties, what's to stop her from purchasing them herself? I can see it now, I'll be doing the wash and pull out a piece of dental floss, um. I mean a thong, and I'll have a small stroke. First I'll accuse Rob of adultery and then I'll wonder if Ian's dating a hussy, and finally I'll come around to my little girl. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it. If Abby suddenly offers to start doing her own laundry, I'll know I'm in trouble. I'll bet she's hiding a super short skirt and midriff baring top along with the sexy undergarments.

Put your filthy paws on my silky drawers?

Now to Grease. Yep, the same one I told you all to go see in Friday's Facebook post. Well, I saw it. And the next day I texted my friends with elementary-school-aged children and warned them that it might be inappropriate for the young ones. Those under age 21 18. I'm still trying to figure out what possessed the director/producer (who happens to be a friend) to perform a brief part of the show at the local elementary schools and then give the young-uns free tickets. I'm sure the piece they performed for the kiddies did not include the smoking, drinking, dirty dancing, or making out that the complete performance put front and center, but why in the world would you encourage 6-11 year-olds to come to a show with these pervasive elements?

For some reason I expected the musical, performed by teens, would be toned down compared to the movie, not more salacious. I was wrong. While I get that those elements were part of the story, I really felt they could have been less in your face without taking away from the show. But here's the biggest problem I have with the selection of Grease as the school musical - there's absolutely no redemptive quality to the story. Most of the time when a story presents us with a badly behaving character it ends with them learning a valuable lesson. What did sweet innocent Sandy learn in Grease? To trade in the pony tail and tease her hair, pierce her ears, apply her makeup, dress like a hussy, learn to smoke, and say goodbye to Sandra Dee. Exactly the life lesson that we parents try to teach.

I guess I shouldn't complain too much, however. Word has it that the show they really wanted to perform this year was Spring Awakening. Yes, that kind of "awakening." This musical was banned for a time in Germany because of its frank portrayal of abortion, homosexuality, rape, child abuse and suicide. I can't imagine why the school administrators said no to that one. It sounds like the perfect show to invite the grandparents to.

Believe it or not, I do understand theater is art. I do understand the need to address controversial issues. I do understand allowing young adults to express themselves, but I don't think the public high school is the place to do it. I think there are some parents who may actually have a problem with their child (they are still children) performing a show with those themes. I know it would have freaked me out if Ian's character was up on stage smoking, drinking, or getting nasty on the dance floor. And no, I'm not naive enough to think it's not happening in real life for many teens, I just don't think it needs to be encouraged or celebrated.

While I'm on a roll, I'd like to throw Go-Daddy commercials and Beyonce's half-time show into this mix so that we can effectively eliminate all innocence from childhood.

Yes indeed, I have officially become a prude.

This Might Hurt a Little

I have a friend, Emily, who is not only bright, witty, and a terrific writer (check out her Mothers of Brothers blog), but also happens to be seemingly fueled by the next great challenge or opportunity in her life. Whether it's achieving her black belt, completing a triathlon, or appearing on national television, Emily goes for the gusto and then moves on to conquer something else.

I am not Emily. I am not a daredevil nor a thrill seeker. I don't crave a surge of adrenalin or a rush of endorphins. In fact, trying whipped cream on my pudding when I was a junior in high school was the first crazy thing I ever did and it's still pretty high up there on my list of life-changing moments.

So why do I feel so frustrated with my son when he refuses to grab the brass ring, live life to the fullest, or climb every mountain (a shout out to the Sound of Music)? He knows the translation for carpe diem but has seemingly never grasped the concept.

When he was little(r), getting Ian to swim or ride a bike was torture. Playing sports has never given him any joy. Watching a movie that I insist he'll love (Big, E.T., The Goonies, etc.) is a no-go. Even reading a book I recommend never pans out. Trying new foods is out of the question. I often wished the kid would give in to peer pressure and join his friends in these areas, but it seems everything with Ian has to be on his terms. This will be a great thing when it comes to sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but for now it's rather maddening.

I realize this reads like a major dissing of my son, but really it's not. If I'm dissing anyone it's myself (and can 40-year-olds effectively use the word "diss"?). I've come to realize that wanting the best for our children generally means wanting them to be better versions of ourselves. And when they possess our own weaknesses and idiosyncrasies, it's frustrating beyond belief. Let's face it, who wants to see those personality traits we least like about ourselves on display in this little person we brought into the world?

Yes, letting our children be who they are meant to be, letting them discover who they are and who they will become is not an easy thing for a parent. The best we can do is model attitudes, behavior, and beliefs that will point them in the right direction. For me, becoming a black belt was as much about my kids as it was about achieving something for myself. The "real Kim" is someone who would have given up on it years ago. (My personal motto is "when the going gets tough, I'm outta here" and "If at first you don't succeed, move on to something that comes easier."). But to quit, to admit defeat, to stick to what I knew, would have sent the wrong message to Ian and Abby.

So my resolution for 2010 is to cut my kids some slack. To let Ian be Ian. To celebrate the fact that he's been blessed with a wonderful sense of humor, the gift of kindness, a bright mind, and a personality that draws people to him. And I'll do my part by trying to be a better role model. Heck, last night I tried a crab ball and oyster, so I'd say I'm off to a tremendous start! Happy New Year!