Setting an Example

I went to the gym last night, and while I sweated and ran and sweated some more, the Miss Universe pageant came on one of the gym televisions. And as I watched the opening bit, I saw young woman after young woman cross the stage. And it all felt a little bit disgusting.

There I was, working my ass off to maintain my size 8, a size that I haven't seen on my jeans tags since high school, a size that I'm very proud of and hope to maintain. Meanwhile, on TV, there are the supposed most beautiful women in the world parading across a stage, and not a one of them was likely bigger than a size 4. If that.

They all looked nearly identical. Tall, very thin, long bouncy hair, bleached straight white teeth, skin completely free of acne or freckles, high cheekbones. If it weren't for their sashes (and to be fair, quite a number of skin tones) I would have a difficult time telling these women apart. Hardly any women can  attain this standard of beauty. Is this really what we all should be trying to look like?

As the mother of a daughter, I am seeing things like the Miss Universe pageant in a way that I never have before. These women, the way they look—this is the look that my daughter will see in TV, movies, magazines, and the look that will probably make her question whether she's pretty enough. How do I tell her she's beautiful the way she is? And what kind of example should I be setting? I was missing family dinner last night so I could exercise (for the record, normally I work out at other times, but I was wanting to go to a class—that ended up being canceled). I exercise for my health, yes, but like I said before, I want to maintain my current size. With pregnancy, I gained a lot of weight, and it's something I do not want to fight my entire life. I don't want to gain then lose, gain then lose, gain then lose. Now that I've lost weight, I really want to keep it off. But how do I continue to strive for this in my own life while also assuring Olive that she's perfect no matter what she looks like?

I'm not the first mother to raise a daughter. With TV shows like Honey-Boo-Boo (a show I've never seen, by the way) and all those pageant shows with little girls, it seems like it's getting harder to let little girls just be little girls for very long. I see seven-year-olds wearing heels, ten-year-olds wearing slinky tank tops and booty shorts. I don't know how to navigate these kind of parenting waters. But Olive is young, and we'll just have to figure it out together.

I do know that no matter what she looks like, or how she chooses to live her life, I'll love her forever, with my whole entire heart. Even if she wants to be Miss Universe.

Good Night, Indeed

Tonight was Andrew's turn to read to Milo before bed. Instead of tucking him in like I usually do, I just went up to say good night.

I gave Milo a big hug and told him I loved him. He said, "I'm gonna have fun reading with Daddy!" I said, "We had fun earlier, didn't we?" He said, "Yeeeeahhh," in the perfect tone of voice that said, well, we did, and I will humor you by admitting it, but of course I will have much more fun with Daddy. I laughed and hugged him tighter. He laughed.

I said, "Can I have a kiss?" And he actually gave me a kiss. Not just put his lips out so I could kiss him, but he really kissed me. Then he kissed me a second time. And I melted a little, so I told him I loved him again. And he said, "I love you."

Such a sweet kid, so amazing. Such an easy thing, loving him. There is nothing in the world like this feeling.

She's Mine

Sometimes a wave of love so strong for my girl washes over me that I am completely pulled under it. My heart aches and my eyes fill with tears. Tonight as I rocked her before bed I noticed, not for the first time, how her eyes don't quite shut all the way when closed, in her most relaxed state.

Just like mine.

I inspect her toes, trying to see if her second toe will end up longer than her first.

Just like mine, like my mother's, like my grandmother's.

I gaze at her hair, in the sun, in the shade, in all different lights. Just to see how very red it is. And are her eyelashes strawberry blonde?

Just like mine?

This baby girl has my whole heart. She is all mine.

Mush

This morning as Milo and Daddy were about ready to head out the door, I asked Milo for a hug. I didn't actual expect him to comply, as he typically says "no" or ignores me altogether. But not today. Today he promptly came over and practically attacked me with a great big hug.

And then? Milo said, "I love you." Completely unprompted. That was the first time he straight up told me he loved me. I hugged him so tight and told him that I loved him. And then he was on his way out the door, leaving me smiling in his wake.

Happy early Mother's Day to me.

This might be my favorite "first" of all

This morning I was saying goodbye to Milo before he headed off to daycare with Daddy and I headed off to work. Since I was showering while he ate breakfast, I hadn't seen him much. So I asked him for a big hug and a kiss, and while he indulged my hug, he only reluctantly gave me a kiss. When he reached out for Daddy, I handed him over and said, "Bye bye, Milo, I love you." And he said "I love you, Mommy, bye bye."

And I melted. I love that boy more than I can possibly describe.

A Mother's Day Letter

Dear Milo,

This Sunday will be our second Mother’s Day together. Last year you were awfully tiny on Mother’s Day—only seven weeks old. And as it turned out, you pretty much cried the entire day. (Was it because we dressed you in your sweater vest? Sorry about that. But you should know that as your mother, I cannot help myself.) So even with the wonderful breakfast your daddy made for me and the amazing necklace (which I wear very frequently), all that crying you did really put a damper on the day.

This year is going to be a lot different—in ways both good and bad. The good? You are much older, and tend to do less crying. And when you do cry, we can usually fix it with snuggles or food. But the bad—I will not be spending the first two-thirds of the day with you. We are going to a wedding in another town, and you will be spending the night with Grandma Susan and Grandpa Russ. (Remember to wish Grandma a happy mother’s day!)

I can’t tell you how bummed I was when I realized that we’d be driving back to town on Mother’s Day. I was so looking forward to playing with you and spending some fun time together. I thought maybe we’d go to the park or go get frozen yogurt or something. I know you don’t really know that it is a special day, so we will just have to do those things some other time. But I’ll be wishing I was with you.

You are so very special to me. I’m so glad I am your mama. You are more fun than I ever could have imagined. I love your laugh and the way you bounce in your seat. I love tickling your chubby baby thighs and the way you tried to slip me the tongue when I kissed you. I’ve never laughed so hard. I even love the way you take partially chewed-up food out of your mouth and offer it to me. It’s very generous of you.

When you were still growing inside my belly, people would tell me that they couldn’t really describe what it was like to have a kid. You just had to experience it. And, well. They were right. How can you explain the way you love a person who has peed on your face (and his own), vomited in your hair, pooped in your arms, and screamed in your ear? Why do you love a person who breaks your heart when you have to leave him with someone else for a few hours, then turns around and breaks your heart again when you return and he doesn’t want to go to you? There’s simply no explaining it.

Milo, there is nothing you could ever do that would make me love you less. I hope you know that. Thanks for all your hugs and smooches. You’re amazing.

Love,
Mama