The Bigger Battle

Parenting is not for the weak willed or faint of heart.

Can I get an AMEN!

I was reminded of that in a very profound way yesterday. Adam asked if we could stop by GAMESTOP to purchase a game before we picked up his friend to spend the night. His buddy was going to purchase the game soon, too, so they thought it the perfect opportunity to check it out together.

It was about two years ago that we started allowing Adam to purchase the "M" rated games, which is probably the equivalent of an R-rated movie.  Part of that process was working with GAMESTOP to know which games were appropriate and which ones were not. Surprised that they would turn away sales?

They are the first ones to tell you their biggest clients are not the teen boys who buy the games, but rather, soccer moms needing help navigating the process. Like me.

We have allowed Halo, Call of Duty, Assassin's Creed and Battlefield. For the most part, it is zombie killings, which graphics and language having 'edit out' abilities. Yes, they are still violent. But in the world of mature games, they have no nudity, sex, drugs, etc.

GAMESTOP employees made a list of games that at 12-13-14-15 year old Adam should NOT play, such as Red Dead Redemption, Grand Theft Auto and, most recently, Watch Dogs. Watch Dogs became the problem.

A few weeks ago, he had asked to purchase Red Dead Redemption and I told him if after talking to the sales people, they said it was OK after all, I might consider it--knowing it was on my 'banned' list. Sure enough, they stood firm and cautioned me against the purchase. Adam was not happy, but he knew going it the odds were slim to none.

Enter Watch Dogs. Not knowing anything about it, I approached the sales people about the game. Before I asked, they cautioned me against it.  An implied rape scene, Russian Roulette while doing drugs, topless women--and according to an on-line review-- an insinuated sex act scene. Not playing the game myself, I did not realize that depending on choices you make and scenes you approach, not every player will play the same scenes and there was a chance Adam would not happen upon some or even most of it. But, who knows until you are there, right?

Hearing enough negative information about it, I had to make an immediate decision about the game. While Adam looked at me with pleading eyes and almost inaudible "pleaaaassseee.....pleeaaaaaassee let me get the game", Elise grabbed me by the hands and said, "No, mom. NO WAY! Don't give in."

You will be pleased to know that I did in fact say no, explaining that if I allowed it, I was compromising our principles....and doing it only to make him happy. And if I had given in, and allowed he and his friend to play it that night, then I would be making the decision for that family that Watch Dogs was OK for their son. Not cool.

I believe my words included, "I know you are disappointed and will be angry, but this is one of those parenting decisions you don't have to like or agree with. But no."  I even offered to help pay for a different game to purchase.

We left the store empty-handed.

Adam was dejected and quiet but he never argued. In his heart of hearts, he knew it was not an appropriate game and there was no reason to fight my decision. After reviewing the on line site for parent reviews, it only became more apparent to me that I was correct in saying no. Adam even agreed with me after-the-fact.

It didn't make it any easier though. Fortunately, there is another game coming out in September the sales people suggested to Adam that he buy. He is already looking forward to it.

Sometimes making the right decision is hard. But I thought of longer-term consequences. Adam could argue FOR Grand Theft Auto because I allowed Watch Dogs.  It is a slippery slope to compromise our principles, friends.  By age 17, Adam will be able to buy any of those games and, most likely, I can't really prevent it. Even if I said no here,  he could play it elsewhere and I'd be none-the-wiser. I suppose that is still true if any of his friends purchase Watch Dogs. This is probably not the end of the battle in that respect.

The parenting wars rage on.....

Confessions of New Fattie

To answer the quiet murmurings, raised eyebrows, and out and out comments, YES, I have recently gained weight. 20 pounds to be exact. I am no longer the size 0 I was from 2007 to 2010. I am now a tried and true -- gasp-- size 6-8.  There it is....true confessions of a woman who spoke out loud the taboo subject of "How much does XX weight?"

In recent weeks, much ado has been made about my weight gain, from well-intentioned loved ones who thought it their business to comment. I guess they didn't think I was aware of it, or I don't care. The truth is that I DO recognize it, I DO care, and I DO intend to do something about.

So here's the skinny.... (or the fat in my case, huh?)

About 8 years ago, following the birth of my second child at just under 38 years old, I realized springing back to my petite frame was not as easy as it used to be. To help cope with turning the dreaded 40 and handle the stress of losing my terminally ill mom, I joined at gym in 2007. It was life changing. While I was always petite, skinny even, I wasn't necessarily 'in shape'. I think that people equate thin with good health. The truth was that my cholesterol was probably a little high, I did not get much intentional exercise, and my energy was rather low. Joining a gym changed my life. While improving my cardio and overall health, I also developed a strong core, flat abs, strong upper body and more self-confidence in my appearance than I had ever had before.  The bonus is that in the process I lost the last of the baby weight (with my daughter almost 3) and slimmed down to a cool zero.  My proudest moment was while at Gold's Gym, a 20 something came up to my while I was working with free weights and asked if I was getting ready for competition. More like getting ready to run car pool, but thanks, guy!!

During this same time, I sought help for my severe chronic insomnia issues. With most insomnia medications actually suppressing appetite, I suppose it aided it my overall weight loss. Of course, just like contestants on the Biggest Loser maintaining this size and motivation for the gym was a challenge. Ever involved in my kids' schools, my church, and life in general, carving out that dedicated time for strength and cardio training became a little less of a priority. And my weight went up by an acceptably health 5-10 pounds and I stabilized as a size 4 about 3 years ago. Until about 7 months ago. Enter the weight gain.

Now I can tell you exactly what went wrong. First, my sleep medications changed time and time again until--did you guess it--seven months ago. My sweet doctor and I found a medicine combination that has been working for me, without the common side effects I've had in the past, and does not have a dependency....Nor does it taper off in effectiveness. Friends, after a lifetime of chronic fatigue, I finally have a winner.  The only downside is that it is happens to drastically increase your appetite. Even knowing this, I felt the up side to this was more important than a little weight gain from trying to stay satiated.

To complicate matters, Adam's health took a drastic negative turn in August 2011 and by April 2012, we were seeing specialist after specialist getting his diagnosis. For the entire last year, I have been working tirelessly to get Adam the best medical specialists around. He and I were on and out of a specialized children's hospital twice a week for months and I was taking care of him when he had strep throat for 4 solid months this past fall. Add that to my own strep throat infection that lasted 4 rounds of antibiotics from Thanksgiving to mid January, and it spells weight gain disaster. To the tune of 20 pounds as you might recall.

As a life time skinny, this has been a challenging time for me. I hate the extra weight.  I have outgrown almost all my dress slacks and jeans, and I don't feel good about myself at all. After listening to well intentioned loved ones share their concern about this weight gain, I understand why there is such an epidemic of eating disorders. God forbid, I gain just a little weight. I am hardly fat and I am still on the receiving end of rude comments. Even though I am still well under the average size 12-14, this is the heaviest I have ever been and it's been hard. Until recently, though, it was about survival. Now that life has gone back to its 'normal'  state of busy, I am getting back to the gym. Without any other major changes, I have already lost 2 pounds. At least my scale is heading in the right direction.

My goal is to lose the entire 20 pounds by early June.  I have roughly 10 weeks to lose roughly 20 pounds. At 2 pounds per week, I think my goal is reasonable. But work outs are not going to be enough to combat my extra calories. So, friends, my desire is to start replacing one meal a day with juicing. Having watched two amazing documentaries on Netflix -- Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead  and Hungry for Change-- I really think eating cleaner and truly getting all the fruits and vegetables our bodies need can give me the extra nutrition I need.  The health benefits of juicing are amazing and totally worth my time, effort and cost.  I hope that the kids will juice with me this summer, not replacing meals for them, but supplementing. I think my kids, especially Adam, will benefit from the added veggies, in particular.

Gone, too, are the days where I can eat whatever or whenever I want. I am closer to 50 years old than 40 so my metabolism may be catching up with me. Snacking after dinner is probably my biggest downfall.  Sometimes I feel that maybe I did not consume enough day time calories and I am making up for lost ones at night.  Last night I did not eat anything after dinner. I thought about food all evening long but I made it without anything more than water.  Just in one day, I noticed I was much less bloated in the morning. If I continue to feel better in the morning from no more snacking at night, that will be all the motivate I need to continue it.

Not only will I feel better and look better, maybe the nasty, snarky comments will stop.  Then people can find something better to do with their time.


                        

Every Year Begins With a Fairy Tale

Once every four or five years I stay awake until midnight to greet the new year. I'm hip that way. Last night was that rare time when I was awake to say goodbye to '12 and hello to '13. There was nothing magical in that moment--which is why I suppose I am not motivated to stay up until midnight in the first place. Maybe I value my sleep more than my political correctness to ring in our new year.

Overall, 2012 was not a great year. Ironically, 2011 was actually just as bad for many of the same reasons. Do I have hopes that 2013 will turn things around? Certainly. The optimist in me hopes that the struggles our family has had will find a place of calm in the next 365 days that lie ahead of us. The pessimist in me, however, knows that many of the unresolved angst in 2012 will, in fact, follow us into this new year like a bad habit. There is nothing magical about the turn in our calendar that will pardon us from our difficulties.

Every year I ponder the question, "What will I do to make 2013 a better year than 2012?" It's not really about making resolutions in the traditional sense. You are setting yourself up for failure (thus we begin our year with a Fairy Tale, thinking that we will suddenly live "happily ever after"). It's about making baby steps to being a better you.

For my husband, I want to love him better. Be more gentle, more kind, more respectful and more encouraging. Physically, we go through the motions in our marriage, taking care of each others needs in the traditional sense. I am the homemaker, providing him with the sanctuary he wants to come home to each night. I could be a stronger support system for him in the emotional and spiritual sense. In turn, I would like to be appreciated more--criticized less. Fifteen years of marriage does not make us experts. I find that having a great marriage is very difficult amidst the chaos of adult children struggling to find their way and having two children to raise up along the way.

When it comes to parenting, I do more things right than wrong. I am usually very patient and engaged with my kids.  2012 taught me about sacrifice more than ever before. I spent about 10 months of 2012 going from countless doctor and hospital visits with Adam, hoping to find a diagnosis and treatment plan for his blood disorder. While I hope the most difficult months are behind me, we are still finding Adam's new normal. This is a process for both of us and I learned what it truly means to sacrifice for my child and place his needs before mine.  I have spent hours on my knees, pleading with God to get us through the difficult days and weeks. As a mom, 2012 was the hardest year of my life.

Perspective was my buzz word for the end of 2012 that I will carry into 2013. Adam is cared for by a pediatric hematologist, which is a fancy name for a blood cancer doctor. (like leukemia)  Twice weekly for months,  we have been in waiting room and exam rooms at the hospital. Kids with cancer are all around us. As for now. Adam's condition is NOT life threatening. Our cryogenic results  and yearly bone marrow biopsies will give us a better idea if his condition could become cancerous, but it is most likely not that serious.  There are infants, toddlers, school aged kids and teenagers fighting for their life. Adam's illness has been difficult but does not compare to the dozens of kids we have met who hope that 2013 is not the last new year they will ever see. As difficult as it has been, it could be worse. Much worse. Perspective.

 My precious Elise. With the struggles all three of our boys have had this last year, she would tell you she has been a little neglected.  She has such a loving, sweet spirit that I hope I continue to nurture that innocence and child-like quality in her. I realize that in 2013, we will have two adult sons, and one teenage son. She will be my only little one. I want to savor and enjoy that child in her before she decides she needs to be 'all grown up'.  I made strides to really celebrate her in the latter half of the year, and I hope to continue to do that.

The biggest change I hope to make in 2013 sounds selfish, actually. Given the challenges I have at home with Adam, I am learning to say NO. 2012 was filled with a lot of giving of my time, talents, money and resources. And all of them were good things. But I over-committed myself to the point where thoughts of fulfilling those commitments made me sick to my stomach. In the last month I have thoughtfully pulled away from some of these commitments, even though it is a difficult thing for me to do.

In recent months, I have had difficulty staying healthy. 2012 will go down in our family history as being one of my sickest ever, which drives this point home even more. Part of that was exacerbated by lack of exercise on my part. I am the heaviest weight I have ever been and in the worst shape of my adult life. It's not about being skinny. It's about having a strong mind and body to take care of my family. If mama's sick, life is very difficult. And mama has been sick way too much. I had the mind set that if I did not get to the gym first thing in the morning, exercise was not happening. For 2013, I will change my mindset. If my morning is busy, I can still get to the gym in the afternoon. There is no rule that it has to be morning. It's just important that I go so I can be strong enough to take care of Adam. 

Honestly, I am going to give myself permission to be very selfish in 2013.  My friends who I have confided in this last year know how much of a struggle this last year was for me, and I look forward to having more time just to be with them and to nurture those relationships on a more intimate level. Life is too short and too busy to be stressed all the time. I want to scrapbook more, write more, and be productive a little less.

So to my friends, followers, and the occasional reader who stumbles upon this post, I wish you all a happy, healthy and blessed 2013. I wish for you what I hope for my family.

Friendships: Standing the Test of Time?

Even as a young child, I was a bit of a loner. My mom would realize that she hadn't seen me for hours, but I was playing contentedly alone in my room. Barbies, dolls, even fashioning a board game where I could play solo could entertain me for hours. Having twin sisters two years older, I was often the odd-man-out and playing by myself was the norm for me.

Certainly I have had several friends over the years, but I am constantly struck by the ebb and flow of friendships. When I hear of friendships spanning 40 and 50 years (or longer), it makes me a little sad. While I still have a group of really strong friendships spanning 25 years since college graduation--Rachel, Karen, Robin, Donata and Laura--I miss the friendships that I thought would last for a lifetime, but did not survive.

There is a saying that friendships are either for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Unfortunately, the older I get, the more my friendships seem to fall into a 'season or reason'. Sometimes it has been a due to life circumstances: Marriages, divorces, child rearing, careers. I have found that some of my friends only needed me for a season (often when they were without a spouse) and once they were married, maintaining my friendship was no longer a priority. As a seasoned married person, I understand the new-ness of relationships and the new-ness of marriage is an exciting time. I gladly give my friends space and time to really bond with their new life partner. But when they no longer return my phone calls or accept social invitations, then it's hard to accept that most likely it's the end of that relationship. Some people might refer to them as 'fair weathered friends'.  I try not take it personally, although sometimes I can wallow in the loss. I'm just being real.

But I've also seen them wither when our lives have taken a dramatic turn away from what used to be commonalities--such as going away to college, getting married and having children. Even me becoming a stay-at-home mom has separated me from my career-focused friends--ever causing a rift in the common threads that kept us bonded earlier in our lives.  Even religious differences have made keeping lifetime friends more of a challenge because my Christianity is a large part of who I am, and I naturally gravitate to those who are like-minded. Not that it is impossible to stay friends when your lives have definitely taken different paths; but I do think it takes far more effort to find that common ground.

The most difficult loss in friendship for me occurred in the last 5 years. It was a slow disintegration that is all but gone now. And we had been the best of friends for over 20 years. Why this happened is not an easy question to answer. Honestly, there were hurtful words exchanged, unforgiveness and the inability to find that aforementioned common ground. Over the years, my life lead me in the direction of wife, mother, volunteer, and published writer and her life went a completely different road. I am still in the process of trying to find peace about all the circumstances that lead us to this place. Unfortunately, I will never find those answers. But I miss her.

My cousin Jenny shared with me that her best friend and (dis)maid of honor called her up one month after the wedding and said that they could no longer be friends. When Jenny inquired why, she was told that it was because Jenny had everything that she had ever wanted and she was jealous. Right or wrong, justified or not, at least there was closure.

Sometimes just finding a place of forgiveness of the friends we feel hurt us, betrayed us, or let us down is the only way to heal. We don't always get the answers we are seeking--and we find ourselves disappointed that another friendship 'bit the dust'. Realizing that we were part of that disintegration is part of the process when we need to extend that forgiveness to ourselves. Losing a friend is rarely all on the other person. We need to take our own personal responsibility in it where appropriate.

For me, I have redefined the word 'friend' and instead of always looking for the elusive answers as to why so many of my friendships have come and gone, I cherish the women (and a few men who are also friends with my husband) who ARE still in my life. Admittedly, I am more guarded and do not seek out my female friends as much in my life now than in my youth: Part natural course of life and partly by choice

My main focus is my husband, my children, my church home, my volunteer work--and of course, my writing-- first and foremost. My friends are the bonus part of my life. The icing on the cake, if you will.  I hope they will endure the test of time because I treasure each one. And I hope they also treasure me.

Bone Marrow Buddy Brothers

As first appeared for Patch.com in my community

In late April my husband Tony received a call from our friend Kathy in Ohio. Bill, her husband, was about to celebrate a milestone birthday, his 50th, and had hoped Tony could send a special greeting from St. Louis. Instead, my husband surprised Bill by making the trip out to see him over his birthday weekend. The fact was this was not just any milestone birthday; this was one that almost wasn't meant to be.

Eight years earlier Bill had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) and his last hope for survival was a bone marrow donation. His three brothers were the best hope for a match. Despite a 25 percent chance, none of them qualified. Bill was out of options and at the mercy of finding a donor through the National Marrow Registry.  Because he had registered through his employer about seven years earlier, my husband Tony became that hope.

And after long, step-by-step process, Tony was found to be a match 'closer than a brother', more perfect than the hospital and National Registry had ever dreamed possible. Bill not only went into remission, but he is healthy and living a life he feared would come to an end only years earlier.
Doctors look for a donor who matches their patient's tissue type, specifically their human leukocyte antigen (HLA) tissue type. Your immune system uses these markers to decipher between good and bad cells. The closer the match between the patient's HLA markers and yours, the better for the patient. The intent is to replace the 'bad' marrow with 'good' marrow.

Have you ever considered registering to become a donor? Since there are few area registration drives, the simplest way would be to go to this link. It registers you with the National Marrow organization.
According to the National Registry, approximately one in every 540 members will be a match and have the opportunity to donate  You may never be identified as a match for someone needing a transplant or you may find that your HLA tissue type is more common and you are potentially a more universal match.  By registering, you are NOT committing yourself to donating if you are a match. You always have the option to 'opt-out' if you were asked.

There are actually two types of donation methods. The first is a surgical procedure done under general or regional anesthesia that withdrawals liquid marrow using needle punctures from the back of the pelvic bone. Since my husband was donating for a man in similar stature to his own, he donated the maximum amount, which amounted to about 50 punctures in all. If donating for a child or a smaller stature woman or male, less marrow is needed and the procedure is less involved.

Peripheral blood stem cell donation is a non-surgical procedure done in an outpatient clinic. Through a process called apheresis, a donor's blood is removed through a needle in one arm and passed through a machine that separates out the blood-forming cells. The remaining blood is returned to the donor through the other arm. In addition to donating marrow, my husband has donated apheresis numerous times through the American Red Cross. Instead of donating whole blood, they considered him a perfect candidate for this procedure, which can take several hours.  There was no particular recipient in mind with each of these donations, but it is held at a blood bank until needed. It is my understanding that not everyone would be a good candidate to donate the peripheral stem cells.

Tony would be the first to say that donating the bone marrow for this complete stranger changed his life forever. After Bill's amazing recovery and mutual agreement to learn of each others identities after the mandatory one year waiting period passed, they became best friends. Actually, they are more than that. With Tony's marrow coursing through Bill's blood, they share the same DNA. They are closer than friends: They are brothers. Blood brothers.

A Friend for All Time

There were lots of tears this morning as I was preparing my sweet daughter to start her school week.

My 1st grader Elise is troubled by a friend using a nickname in the classroom that is embarrassing her--and her friend won't stop despite Elise's kind plea. Another friend called her 'stupid' and make a few other rude remarks. She did not want to go to school today because of them.

My heart aches for her hurting heart. But I cannot solve these issues for her. The reality is that throughout her entire life, navigating the waters of friendships is an on-going process. Having 'mean' kids verbally assault her is unfortunately part of growing up.

Every Wednesday afternoon for Adam, and every Thursday morning for Elise, I meet with a small group of praying moms and we claim scripture over them using the format of Moms in Prayer International (formerly Moms In Touch). We take an attribute of God and read scriptures about God's love, his patience, his faithfulness, his protection; Him being our helper, a miracle worker, our confidence, our rock, our foundation, our hope, our peace. The list goes on and on. Whether encouraging or correcting, I tell my children over and over who they are in Christ.

As Elise came to me with tears in her eyes about being called stupid, I reminded her of what God says about her: She is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is made in the image of God, She is God's delight. I tell her she is smart, kind, funny, and a good friend. No longer crying, but still looking dejected, I sent her off to school, encouraging her to let her teacher or counselor help her mend those relationships.

Her counselor called me just a few moments ago to tell me how articulate Elise was in explaining her problem. She was able to lovingly explain to these young friends on how her feelings were hurt. And the most amazing, incredible, sweet and God-breathed thing happened.

She recited back to the counselor that she did not deserve those words. That 'my mom said I am sweet, kind, loving and smart because that is what God thinks of me, too.' Yes, she is living in this world, but she is not of this world. And she knows it. And I am proud of her declaring the truth; sharing the gospel, and yes, listening to me. Maybe I am impacting her life more than I thought.

Thank you, God, for the encouragement that I needed today. When so many things can go wrong--so many things left unsaid--and the busyness of life to make us forget to take the time to build up our children (not just correct them), you revealed yourself in a mighty way.

Amen and Amen.

Teaching Our Girls to be Women

Last night, while my daughter was enjoying a play date, I decided to hang out with her mom, Anne, who I like a lot. Anne and I are trying to make an earnest connection between our daughters, who are both in first grade and have known each other since they were 3 years old. We want to hang out more and our daughters are a perfect excuse.

Anne and I are living parallel lives in many respects. Our husbands work for the same company, we are approximately the same age, we've both been married about the same amount of time and we both have sons in 6th grade and daughters in 1st grade. But that is probably where the similarities end. In many respects we are very different. She is liberal, while I am more conservative; she struggles with organization and structure, while I thrive on it. Anne is also more 'girly' than I am in respect to how we dress and do our hair and makeup. I definitely would say that she is more glamorous, and I tend to go with the more natural look.

For the last year, Anne has asked me occasionally if she can give me a makeover She saw potential in me and thought I could accentuate my features more. I have repeatedly turned her down for one reason or another--nothing personal. Just for whatever reason, I haven't been cooperative. Until last night. For about an hour she played with makeup and did my hair, even finding a cute dress that fits my petite frame in her laundry room.

That is a picture of me:  BEFORE. Albeit the picture is a little washed out, I still say it represents me pretty well. For being smack dab in the middle of my 40s, I think I am aging well. I am certainly no raving beauty, but I definitely find that I am aging better in my 40s than I did in my 20s. Here is how I looked AFTER Anne took hold of me.

The picture turned out a little dark, but I definitely think she did a nice job really changing my look. I hardly recognize myself. I actually really do like my hair, which I was not expecting too. The makeup was a little heavy for an everyday look for me, but I want to learn some of the tricks Anne used last night and buy some new makeup to my collection to help achieve this look for a fancy night out. I could potentially learn from Anne what I did not learn from my mom or any other role model.

It was while we were in the midst of the makeover that she and I were talking about being wives and mothers and we both agreed that for the most part, we don't feel like we learned a lot from our mothers on some basic 'womanly' stuff. She and I both agreed that we both have areas of strength and weakness but wonder if we learned it 'nature' versus 'nurture' or taught ourselves. Together, Anne and I would make a pretty complete woman, we joked.

My mom was very neat and tidy while I was growing up, so I think she modeled for me how I wanted to keep house.  As an elementary aged child, I was somewhat of a slob, but then I could spent hours cleaning my room from top to bottom without being asked. As a teenager, I was known to surprise my mom by cleaning the house for 4-5 hours while she was on a date with my dad. As a pre-driving teen, I would spend some Saturdays cleaning house with her, blasting our favorite Neil Diamond albums from the stereo. Gradually, I became interested in 'keeping house'--and really got the itch to keep my surroundings neat and organized when I lived away at college, sharing a small dorm room. Keeping it neat was the only way to survive such a small space.

However, with the exception of the occasional baking, I did not learn to cook from my mom. She modeled being a good cook for our family, preparing dinner almost every night. I cannot recall a time when I really helped her, except for grating cheese or cracking some eggs. My mad cooking skills was really a hands-on learn-by-necessity trade as a new wife and mom.  She also never taught me to iron or sew. My mom had amazing sewing ability. She could fix zippers, buttons, hem lines, etc. She also used to make doll and Barbie clothes, which proves she was very gifted. Ironically, before my mom died, she taught my husband how to use a sewing machine when we inherited my grandma's. Since Tony was in charge of sewing on cub scout badges, I think he was motivated to learn something other than the by-hand methodology. I, on the other hand, can only sew on a button. Other than that, I defer to my uber-talented sewing husband. At least one of us knows how.

As amazing as I think my mom was as a mom and how she exemplified being a model wife, I don't think she trained me in how to be a woman. We talked about The Birds and The Bees but I don't recall her showing me how to apply makeup, do my hair, or how to dress for my petite frame. And, looking back, I can see why I am satisfied with my 'natural' look. I never learned differently. But this lack of training did affect my self-esteem and has impacted many decisions I have made into adulthood, even into my 40s.




Every "Mom and Me' cooking class we take together, or when we complete a chore together, I know I am preparing her to be a woman. Maybe it may be a stereo-typical woman--a feminist may say I am being too old-fashioned in my intentions. But old-fashioned is good in my book. If she chooses a career path that lends itself to her being single and choosing to not have children, the time I have spent with her doing 'womanly' things does not seem wasted to me. It will still create a confidence and a sense of being a well-rounded person. She can bring that confidence into every area of her life.

Even now, I see this gradual shift in her opinion of herself. She wants to grow her hair out from bangs, so taking care of her hair is mandatory at this time. She fixes her own hair every morning, experimenting with different looks. Elise is also intentional in what she wants to wear each day and I see a more feminine side coming out in her. And she is only 7. 

I guess my main point is that the make-over last night really stirred up some unresolved angst about what I was lacking as a teen, and how that lack of self-confidence has manifested itself over and over in various ways into my 40s. Hopefully, I will be a better mom, wife, and person because of it. And help my daughter love herself as much as I love her.