4,015 days

My sweetest,

Eleven years ago, you made me a mom. It wasn't an exactly auspicious start considering I didn't even know I was in labor, but once you arrived, I knew I would never love anyone the same way that I loved you.

 From the beginning, you have kept me on my toes. When you were little, you were a runner; you didn't see any point in walking somewhere if you could run. These days, you prefer cartwheeling your way through the world. It's a rare occasion on a night at home if you're not doing a back bend, a crab walk, or a front walkover. I have no idea where you got your flexibility because I know it's not from Dad or me. For sure.

This past year has been all about gymnastics, making slime, going to sleep away camp, beauty experiments, and trying anything new. Not everything has been a rollicking success, but that never seems to bother you. You have the rare ability to laugh at yourself and ridiculous situations without taking yourself too seriously. I love when you try out new accents and spend the evening talking like an old Russian woman or Hermione Granger. You have an ear for language, and I hope that's something you continue to enjoy. Your imagination is enormous, and I get such a kick out of hearing the stories, thoughts, and questions that come out of your brain.

You continue to take such good care of the people around you. Whether it's other kids at school or me or your brother, you tend to put everyone else first. You want everyone to be safe, healthy, and kind, and you show them through example. One day at school last semester, you wrote letters to the custodians at school to thank them for taking such good care of the building and the students in it.  Your heart is big enough to hold the world inside it, and I have no doubt that it will continue to grow as you get older. Malevolence is simply not in your vocabulary, and you fight for injustice, no matter whether it's real or perceived, with your whole being.  I truly admire your willingness to see the best in people. You're not a pushover, though, and you know how to stand up for yourself.

In the next year, you'll be starting middle school. Thinking of middle school years makes most people shudder, so I know exactly what is coming. What I want for you more than anything in the world is for you to hold on to who you really are, no matter how hard it may get. You're so beautiful and good, inside and out, and you see life through rose-colored glasses.  There are going to be people who tell you to see the world for what it really is, but I say ignore them. Life can be any way you choose to see it, and I hope that you're always able to find the sunshine.  Don't ever let someone else tell you what to do or who to be: you are amazing just the way you are.  Find your tribe of people who are kind and who make you want to be a better person. With good people by your side, you can do anything.

I'm beyond proud of you, baby. You bring so much joy and laughter and weirdness and hope to our lives. I'm infinitely grateful that you're mine.

I love you,
Mom

"Big" problems

When you're cradling a sweaty baby in one arm while running after a toddler and people tell you to enjoy that time because bigger kids bring bigger problems, you might be tempted to immediately clap back, because at that moment, your problems are big enough.  Those people happen to be right, but don't tell them I told you so.

Lottie came home not too long ago and told me she thought she needed to go on a diet.  After my head exploded and I was able to pick up the pieces, I asked her why. She told me that she was afraid of getting fat, that girls in her grade had been talking about how awful it would be to get fat.

Sweet Jesus. Third grade.

We sat down to talk about this; I couldn't see having this conversation while I was mopping the kitchen floor.  I told her all of the right things: she's young, she's active, and she's amazing.  She was nodding her head throughout the conversation, but I could tell it wasn't getting through to her.  So, I took a deep breath, and I told her some painful truths about her mama and life in general.

I told her that there will always be people who are way too focused on looks.  Everyone has his/her own style and appearance, but there will be times when it's not enough for some of the critics.  As long as people are happy and comfortable in their own skin, it shouldn't matter what other people think.  Only sometimes it does.  And when it does, I want her to have the proper tools to deal with it.

I asked her to tell me what she sees when she looks at me, and she said, "My mom who is beautiful." Oh, my heart.  The hard part came when I told her that I am overweight, I accept my pudginess, and I don't really care what anyone else thinks of my body.  She immediately protested and told me I wasn't fat, but I shushed her so I could continue, so I could explain that I'm not embarrassed or ashamed or sad about it.

Yep, I weigh too much.  I'm fat, chubby, fluffy, curvy, substantial, chunky...you get the drift.   If I were to compare, I'm probably the heaviest of all of my friends, but I don't compare.  I'm most likely the biggest mom of all of my kids' friends' moms, but I don't compare.  By now, I have learned that comparing does no good, and it's really just a time-waster.  I had two separate people tell me this week that I was fat TO MY FACE, and after a few fretful moments, I forgot about it and felt glad that I don't feel the need to body shame other people just because I can.  The crux of it is this: I may be heavy, but that doesn't change who I am as a person.  (Now would be the perfect time to let you know this is NOT a fishing expedition for compliments.  None needed.  REALLY.  That's not the point of this post.  Now, carry on.)

I could see Lottie getting a little lost, so I continued.  I told her that I'm proud of this body.  My body carried two kids, and when those babies decided my womb was some sort of magical Studio 54 that they couldn't bear to leave, my body dealt with two emergency C-sections so I could give birth safely.  This body walked me through thyroid cancer and the radioactive iodine that followed.  This body took care of everyone and everything when T was so sick that he could barely move.  This body has rocked kids to sleep, hugged friends in time of mourning, played in the rain, and swum in the pool of a waterfall in Hawaii.  This body works at home and works to make students into great teachers.  This body hosts dance parties on school mornings when no one wants to get out of bed.  This body goes to boot camp and spin class every week day to stay healthy, and this body keeps up pretty well, thankyouverymuch.  This body houses the brain that listens intently when there are problems, laughs like crazy at silliness, devours books with every spare moment, and multi-tasks almost every minute of every day.  This is the same body I had when I was 17 and met the love of my life; there is just more of it now, and he's still happy to be around, I might add.

I told her that if she ever starts to think negatively about her body, I want her to think of the all the amazing things it does for her, and most importantly, how it holds one of the biggest hearts in the entire world.  I told her that she has been given the gift of athleticism, definitely not from me, and she should continue to revel in that her whole life as she has in her childhood.  I told her that her kind heart and happy disposition would always make her beautiful, and to me, she is absolute perfection.

I'm not going to spend my summer hiding in sweats or refusing to go to the pool.  I'm going to put on a bathing suit, dive in, and enjoy life with my family and friends.  My suit may be bigger, but I bet my laugh will be, too.  What a beautiful gift to give my children: my presence, my absolute, complete, not-worrying-about-what-my-legs-look-like-in-shorts presence in their lives.

I don't honestly know how much of what I said to Lottie sunk in, and I may not know that for a long time.  This is a conversation that needs to happen over and over, though, until she understands that there should be more than just what she sees in the mirror that defines her as a person, and whatever that more is, I want her to own it and be proud of it. I never want her to be ashamed of who she is because she has a long life ahead of her figuring it all out. Plus, it isn't just body shaming out there in the world: it's all kinds of shaming.  We shame moms who stay home and moms who work; we shame people on welfare and the filthy rich; we shame those who share their emotions and those who are utterly stoic.  There is slut-shaming, food-shaming, politics-shaming, and even shame-shaming.  We basically shame anyone who doesn't do things exactly like we think they should be done, and I'm over it.  Seriously.  What I want Lottie (and Dallas and everyone, really) to get is that shaming others is easy and shaming ourselves can be even easier, but feeling true pride and loving oneself is the hard part.  It takes work to push aside the feelings of not being enough and to live life the best way possible.  I know she can do it, though.  I think we all can.

Try a little tenderness

I usually avoid the news.  It's too depressing, and I tend to internalize all of the sadness.  I like happy news and uplifting stories; who doesn't?

As much as I hate the news, I know that I have to stay somewhat current and know what's happening in the world.  In the last week, I have read about a school shooting in North Carolina, the earthquake in Turkey, a horrific attack on a gay man in Scotland, the death of Gaddafi, and wild animals running loose in Ohio.  None of that makes me want to explore the world any further; it makes me want to just stay in my house with my family and cover my head up with a soft, cozy blanket.

And the news doesn't really end on CNN or MSNBC.  I see things in my every day life that make me sad.  Some things are little like people running red lights or litter all over the streets.  I don't watch too many commercials, but the political attack ads have already begun.  I witnessed a man start a fight with his significant other in a Burger King, and he cursed at her in front of their three children.  I mean, really? REALLY?

Here's what I want: I want kindness, compassion, love, and sympathy.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know.  The world is a big, cold, ugly place and there's no room for fuzzy bunnies, flowers in our hair, and folk songs around the campfire.  But what if there is room for all of that and more?  Would it really be so hard to be kind to one another?  It wouldn't be.  Because along with all of the hate and violence, there is so much good in the world, too.

I've seen the good, so I know it's there.  I'd like to see more of it, though.  More stories about happiness and joy and forgiveness and hope.  I'm not normally a Pollyanna kind of gal, just ask Trevor.  However, I've had enough of the gloom and doom.  Let's focus on the positive, the gentle, the sweet, the loving, the kind, the beautiful, and the good in the world.  I work hard to show my children those qualities every day, and if I can do it, so can the rest of the world.

End of rant.  Have a lovely day.  :)