On Raising Girls

This is my daughter.

She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s funny, she’s spirited, she’s strong. She’s loved.

She’s also confident. As she got ready for her school program in December, she looked in the mirror and said “I think I’m going to be the prettiest polar bear on stage.” My husband cringed at the lack of humility; I silently thanked God for her self-assurance. And I prayed that confidence would remain in her always.

Last week, a little girl – younger than Kate, I’d guess around six – stopped Kate in the hallway and said, “Kate, have you gotten fatter?”

I don’t know what Kate’s response was at the time, but I do know that when I got home that evening, she met me at the door and told me what had happened. She was brokenhearted.

“I don’t think I’m fat,” she said. “But the other girls on my basketball team have skinnier legs than I do.”

Then she demonstrated to me how the circumference of her legs increased when she sat down on a chair.

She cried. I wanted to cry and/or bang some six-year-old heads together.

I assured her she wasn’t fat (and even if she was, so effing what?), that she was perfect and that her body was strong and functional and did all the things she wanted it to do. She can run and jump and swim and dance.

Eventually she calmed down, and while she hasn’t brought it up again, I worry that a seed of doubt was planted in her mind, that a piece of the confidence I admire so much was chipped away.

We, as parents, have the responsibility not only to know how to respond to our children when harsh words are thrown their way, but also to make sure that they’re not the ones making comments on the appearance or abilities of others.

How do we do that?

Beats me.

But I’m going to try to figure it out, so that I’m better prepared when (because really, it’s not an if) it happens again.

If you’re interested in this topic and free today at noon, join me in a chat at TheMotherhood.com, to learn about empowering girls. I’ll be back to tell you what I learned – and then maybe we’ll all have a better way to deal than to bang six-year-old heads together.

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Live Talk on TheMotherhood.com!

I’m co-hosting a live chat tomorrow with author Rachel Simmons, and I’d love for you to join us!

From her website:
Rachel Simmons is the author of the New York Times bestsellers Odd Girl Out: The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls, and The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence. As an educator, Rachel works internationally to develop strategies to reduce bullying and empower girls.

The talk will be focused on helping our daughters to discover and embrace the best parts of their authentic selves. It’s a topic I’m passionate about, and I’m sure you are too.

The conversation will take place on Tuesday, January 31 at 12:00 p.m. EST, on TheMotherhood.com.

Hope to “see” you there!

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The Blur

Sometimes life seems to fly by; blink and your newborn is trading his swaddle for a backpack. Other times the days slide by in slow agony, like when your children pass a cold or an ear infection back and forth and by the time it’s run through your whole family, a month has gone by but you feel like you’ve aged ten years. (A month of sick children is like six months in mom years, right?)

And then sometimes things are just a timeless blur. Time is ticking, the world is turning, but somehow things don’t seem to change. Preschool drop-off, pick-up, clean house, make dinner, little league game, swim practice, homework, bedtime routine, nurse the baby 4,000 times in the middle of the night, alarm goes off way before you’re ready, rinse and repeat.

Things are a bit blurry for me right now. Every day is a slightly modified version of the day before, til the weekend comes and provides a little variety and clarity.

Every day there is lots of joy, but there is also lots of exhaustion. And not a teeny bit of confusion. But along with the early-onset dementia, there are baby kisses and crazy dances from the big kids and family wii bowling tournaments, and if it’s a blur, at least the colors that whirl by as time flashes before my eyes are mostly bright. For that, I am thankful.

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