12/25/10
7/3/10
Do You Love Your Body?
I am reading a book that is making me mad. Scott asks why I don't stop reading it. Simple enough, but the curious part of me wants to hear what other garbage/lies/bad advice these two moms can dream up. 101 Ways to Help Your Daughter Love Her Body seems like it would be a helpful tool for the mom of a daughter in today's culture, right? Sort of. I agree with a lot of the ways, but as Tom Dugan would say, "There's just a little bit of doodoo in the brownies."
If you don't get the reference, let me explain: Two 12 year old girls are wanting to see a PG-13 movie and are begging their dad to allow them. They explain how it only has a little bit of cussing and a little bit of nudity. They'll cover their eyes on those parts. So later in the day, he makes brownies and offers some to the girls. He holds back the tray of delectable treats and says, "Wait. Before I give these to you, I want you to know that I put just a tiny pinch of doodoo in this batch of brownies." They're gagging and freaking out and refuse to eat them when Dad makes the comparison between the brownies and PG-13 movies.
Our society is feasting on doodoo brownies every day. In fact, yesterday, when we took Liv and our niece to see Toy Story 3 we saw a prime example of this. I always anticipate the pre-movie animated short, but was unimpressed by Day and Night. Clever idea. But it had a little bit of poop in it. Why does the dopey night figure have to gawk over a sun-bathing beauty? Normalization of lust makes me nauseous. I often wish my life had not been infiltrated with people I love being sexually abused. I wish I didn't know human sex trafficking exists or that I could live blissfully with my head in the sand. But I am sensitive to the these innuendos. Especially when the message is being force-fed to millions of little kids (a.k.a. The Future).
Off the soapbox and back to the book...apologies. The book has common sense advice (that I often slip-up on). For example:
But here's the part I disagree with. The crap. You are out shopping with your daughter. She chooses an outfit that is inappropriate for her age. You compromise and buy half of the outfit. The skirt, but not the shirt and then proceed to use the school dress code as your authority. No, here is what you do. In the southern wit and wisdom of Celia Rivenbark: Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank. You, the parent, say, "No, daughter you may not have this outfit. There is not enough fabric for the price or to leave any mystery. Go pick out something else or we can go home." Be the empowered parent.
Another negative habit that I am thankful I do NOT suffer from is comparing your old/flabby body to your daughter's youthful/thin one. Some moms do this, apparently. #13 Understand where your body ends and hers begins. Really? I have, however, compared my legs to my mom's legs and she wins! See...I probably shouldn't say/do that kind of criticizing.
So here lies my inner turmoil, my challenge: I must work extremely hard to be at peace with my body especially in front of my daughter because it is integral to our well-being. So yes Husband I will finish the book, even though it may infuriate me at times (and convict). In the same way, I will live in this world and I will speak out against injustices against women where just a little bit of doodoo is enough to make me vomit out a blog.
Mothers of daughters, any wisdom to impart? How do you show your body some love?
If you don't get the reference, let me explain: Two 12 year old girls are wanting to see a PG-13 movie and are begging their dad to allow them. They explain how it only has a little bit of cussing and a little bit of nudity. They'll cover their eyes on those parts. So later in the day, he makes brownies and offers some to the girls. He holds back the tray of delectable treats and says, "Wait. Before I give these to you, I want you to know that I put just a tiny pinch of doodoo in this batch of brownies." They're gagging and freaking out and refuse to eat them when Dad makes the comparison between the brownies and PG-13 movies.
Our society is feasting on doodoo brownies every day. In fact, yesterday, when we took Liv and our niece to see Toy Story 3 we saw a prime example of this. I always anticipate the pre-movie animated short, but was unimpressed by Day and Night. Clever idea. But it had a little bit of poop in it. Why does the dopey night figure have to gawk over a sun-bathing beauty? Normalization of lust makes me nauseous. I often wish my life had not been infiltrated with people I love being sexually abused. I wish I didn't know human sex trafficking exists or that I could live blissfully with my head in the sand. But I am sensitive to the these innuendos. Especially when the message is being force-fed to millions of little kids (a.k.a. The Future).
Off the soapbox and back to the book...apologies. The book has common sense advice (that I often slip-up on). For example:
- Don't obsess about your weight in front of your daughter. Guilty.
- Don't weigh-in daily; weekly is sufficient. That's part of my morning routine and then I track it on my calendar. Guilty.
- Don't make negative comments about your body. Guilty.
Okay, so upon further retrospection, maybe I dislike this book because it is convicting.
But here's the part I disagree with. The crap. You are out shopping with your daughter. She chooses an outfit that is inappropriate for her age. You compromise and buy half of the outfit. The skirt, but not the shirt and then proceed to use the school dress code as your authority. No, here is what you do. In the southern wit and wisdom of Celia Rivenbark: Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank. You, the parent, say, "No, daughter you may not have this outfit. There is not enough fabric for the price or to leave any mystery. Go pick out something else or we can go home." Be the empowered parent.
Another negative habit that I am thankful I do NOT suffer from is comparing your old/flabby body to your daughter's youthful/thin one. Some moms do this, apparently. #13 Understand where your body ends and hers begins. Really? I have, however, compared my legs to my mom's legs and she wins! See...I probably shouldn't say/do that kind of criticizing.
So here lies my inner turmoil, my challenge: I must work extremely hard to be at peace with my body especially in front of my daughter because it is integral to our well-being. So yes Husband I will finish the book, even though it may infuriate me at times (and convict). In the same way, I will live in this world and I will speak out against injustices against women where just a little bit of doodoo is enough to make me vomit out a blog.
Mothers of daughters, any wisdom to impart? How do you show your body some love?
6/28/10
Five Things to Do in a Thunderstorm
1. Nap. This is my favorite idea and how I plan to reward myself for writing a blog.
2. Write. Does thunder inspire your creativity? Remember to unplug your computers though. Brakers are supposed to protect this from happening, but as Scott says, "Ya never know."
3. Cover your ears, curl up in a fetal position, and pray. HaHa. This is exactly what I used to do in my early twenties due to pathological fear of bad weather passed down from the women in my family. Thanks, Mom and Granny. I was forced to hide my fears when babygirl was born so as to break the cycle. Yay me! Faked it 'til I maked it.
4. Light candles in case the power goes out (but blow them out before the nap). Warning: this may induce romantic feelings in your spouse.
5. ________________________
You tell me. What's your favorite thing to do during a thunderstorm?
5/26/10
Was I This Smart in Third Grade?
Lots of the blogs I follow write about their children. I occasionally (not near as much as when she was itty bitty) write in a pink journal about the miraculous and mundane things my daughter says or does. Now that she can read, she absolutely loves reading said journal. And I think to myself..."Self, you should do that more." And demanding as she as, she also tells me I should. Write. More. About her, of course.
So...here are two vocabulary words that my 8 year old has used to impress her doting parents.
My husband and I are on a "diet" called Feel Great in 8. There's a good food list for which you earn +1 points (limit 10) and a bad food list which deducts 2 (no limit, go figure). On Saturday, the day where you honestly get to say, "My diet starts tomorrow," my already-moping husband says, "I guess we don't get to eat donuts for breakfast tomorrow?" This is a Sunday, pre-church family tradition. Sacred. "No, hon, donuts are on the bad list." This piques daughter's interest, "WHAT?? did you say?" I reply, "Momma and Daddy are going on a diet and we can't eat donuts." And she immediately responded, "Well, you don't have to sabotage me!" We just looked at each other and thought, or maybe said aloud, "That's our girl." And yes, she slipped her teenage brother a few bucks and he picked her up two plain cake donuts. No parental sabotage afterall.
Today's Vocab Moment of the Day:
We watched the epic AVATAR. Two hours and 42 minutes. And yes, I know it's PG-13 and she's 8. I never claimed to be mom of the year. Although her first grade teacher, Mrs. Coatney, frequently called me that. Sarcastically. Can't imagine why?
Anyway, after Avatar was over I asked her, "What did you think of Avatar?" And she responds, "It was perilous!" I do a wide-eyed doubletake. "Is that a bad word?" she asks. "No. I am so impressed that you know that word and used it correctly. Where did you hear that?" The National Anthem. Ha! She's amazing! And inspiring.
This blog officially inducts me into the league of parents that blab about their children. I hope I don't sabotage my writing career before I've even published my tenth post.
So...here are two vocabulary words that my 8 year old has used to impress her doting parents.
My husband and I are on a "diet" called Feel Great in 8. There's a good food list for which you earn +1 points (limit 10) and a bad food list which deducts 2 (no limit, go figure). On Saturday, the day where you honestly get to say, "My diet starts tomorrow," my already-moping husband says, "I guess we don't get to eat donuts for breakfast tomorrow?" This is a Sunday, pre-church family tradition. Sacred. "No, hon, donuts are on the bad list." This piques daughter's interest, "WHAT?? did you say?" I reply, "Momma and Daddy are going on a diet and we can't eat donuts." And she immediately responded, "Well, you don't have to sabotage me!" We just looked at each other and thought, or maybe said aloud, "That's our girl." And yes, she slipped her teenage brother a few bucks and he picked her up two plain cake donuts. No parental sabotage afterall.
Today's Vocab Moment of the Day:
We watched the epic AVATAR. Two hours and 42 minutes. And yes, I know it's PG-13 and she's 8. I never claimed to be mom of the year. Although her first grade teacher, Mrs. Coatney, frequently called me that. Sarcastically. Can't imagine why?
Anyway, after Avatar was over I asked her, "What did you think of Avatar?" And she responds, "It was perilous!" I do a wide-eyed doubletake. "Is that a bad word?" she asks. "No. I am so impressed that you know that word and used it correctly. Where did you hear that?" The National Anthem. Ha! She's amazing! And inspiring.
This blog officially inducts me into the league of parents that blab about their children. I hope I don't sabotage my writing career before I've even published my tenth post.
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