Judgement Free

It seems to be one of the hottest topics the last few years...gender identity and children.  I've read a lot of the articles, laughed at some of the crazy extreme stories, all while tucking away the important tid-bits into the back of mind to use as needed.  I've never had to really think about what would be socially acceptable with my daughter.  She likes all the stereotypically "girly" things, as well as a good dose of the less lady like stuff.  But no one looks twice at a little girl wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or riding a boys bike. 

With my youngest son I have had to take greater consideration in whether or not I should encourage, discourage, or just remain neutral on anything society would call a gender defining action.  From a very young age he has had little care for what is considered a girl vs boy activity, toy, or even clothing item.  I myself could care less.  If he wanted to dance around in princess clothes while digging his cars in the dirt, as long as he was happy, why should I tell him he shouldn't.  Isn't that what parents strive for?  Healthy, happy, well adjusted kids?  So neutrality has become my stance.

My family tells me it's because Luke's favorite playmate is his older sister.  I have, on several occasions, found them playing dress up together, both clad in fluffy dresses and high heel shoes.  He is the only one who will play house with her, or dolls, or do arts and crafts.  He loves to dance, and sing, and skip around, then run off on a Zombie Hunt with his older brother.  So I then think, he seems to be pretty neutral as well. 

I would say my first moment of question regarding the approach of "nothing is specifically for a boy or a girl"  happened while school shopping this fall.  My baby boy was now going out into the world of judgement, peer pressure, and bullies.  And what did he want to arm himself with for this first day of kindergarten?.....a blue glitter notebook with matching glitter pencils.  Once again, I personally, could care less.  But then the dilemma came to light.  Should I let him bring this to school?  Will he get picked on?  Will he feel bad about himself for liking this little insignificant notebook?  Will he then feel shame?  Shame.  One of the reasons I have remained so neutral on his choices over the years.  I never want my child to feel badly about himself for something that makes him who is. 

Then one day during soccer practice his cleats broke.   The only ones around that would fit him were pink.  What did he do?  He proudly laced them on, ran on the field, and exclaimed "Look everybody, I'm wearing pink cleats!!"  Then proceeded to kick his ball around, head held high with pride.  Its those moments that I think I must be doing something right.  That is my little boy out there running his heart out, clad in pink cleats, prancing down the field when he scores a goal, and he's happy.  What more could a mother want.  I'm not naive, I know that middle school could be cruel, and high school could be worse.  But I want him to go into it feeling confident in his own skin, and knowing that no matter what, his family is his judgement free zone.

My 10 Wishes for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day is just around the corner, so in honor of this special occasion, here is a list of the things I would like this year. (hope your reading this Honey!!)

1.) I would like to sleep in.  Really sleep in (with the door shut and LOCKED!!).  Not the kind of sleeping in my husband usually gives me on Mother's Day, when I practically have to push him out of bed to corral the house full of wide awake children running a-muck in the early hours of the morning because in my absence there is no one to appease their boredom.  Or the kind of sleeping in that came in the very early years of motherhood.  Where "sleeping in" meant my husband would go get the fussy baby, and wiggly toddler and put them in bed with us.  He of course would fall instantly back to sleep and I would lay there for the next 20 minutes with baby toes in my side or being asked repeatedly if it was "wake up time", only to finally give in and roll out of bed myself.

2.) I want everyone to dress themselves.  I mean I get it, I would love to have someone walk into my room in the morning and dress me like an overgrown barbie doll too, but come on.  If it were just daddy, those kids would be dressed and down stairs in no time flat.  Granted, my daughter would be miss-matched, my step son would be wearing boxer briefs because as he has told me "They are basically shorts"(....?!?!?), and my littlest son would have his pants and shirt on backwards and inside out, but the point is they would do it themselves.

3.) I want to shower undisturbed.  How nice it would be to not have the shower door thrown open every five minutes because my daughter is tattling, my son wants help putting his shoes on, or they want a different cartoon on the TV.  Daddy is on the couch, take it to him!

4.) I want to pee in peace.   I sometimes wonder if some sort of alarm goes off when I enter the bathroom, because every time, without fail, as soon as I drop my drawers and sit down, a child magically appears in front of me.  They will then always ask something very random that could have waited five more minutes.  "Mom, can we go for a walk after dinner?" or "Next year for my birthday, can we have a bouncy bounce?"  REALLY??  Its not really just the kids either, even the dog will come in and sit in front of me staring if I don't shut the door tight.

5.) I would like to sit through a meal (not made by me) and actually be able to eat it with everyone. This means: I don't care if I am eating blackened charcoal grilled cheese cooked by my husband. It will be the best blacked charcoal grilled cheese I have ever not had to prepare. My kids will get their own drink refill, not wait until I have finally sat down and put the first bite on my fork to pounce with the "I wants" (or better yet, they can GO ASK DADDY!). Not under any circumstance will I "hand feed" any of them because they have decided that regressing to an infant is the only way they will eat. If there is a condiment not on the table, I am not getting up to get it. Nor will I get up to turn on the light because the child asking thinks the Boogie Man will somehow grab them in the three foot distance between the table in the dining room and the light switch in the kitchen.


6.) I want an hour to read a book.  A very alone hour.  An hour that doesn't include a child crawling into my lap when I'm reading "Fifty Shades of Grey" and asking that I read aloud.  A magical hour where my kindle isn't scooped up if I put in down for a second, only to return to find said child seeing how many pages they can swipe through before I get back. 

7.) I want a day where every one's bodily functions are private.  I don't want to hear "Mommy, wipe me!" from my five year old, or "Oh my God Honey, look at this!" from my husband.  I don't need to know that my stepson's farts "smelled so bad at bed time last night" or that my daughter "blew a really giant booger."  If you're not going to die because of it, I don't need to know on Mother's Day.

8.) No means no. This applies to all situations on Mother's Day. No arguing, no whining, no crying, and no negotiating to get your own way. If I say no, just walk away. (This especially applies to any activities my husband thinks I would like to partake in after the kids have gone to bed.)


9.)  I want my kids go to bed and stay there. For once just as I sit down to relax, I don't want to hear a child jump out of bed. Which would usually my oldest because he needs a drink, a drink he didn't need 2 minutes ago when I asked before he got into bed. Then my daughter sees her brother wandering around and of course comes to investigate why. This now reminds the youngest that he needs Mommy to lay with him for "two minutes", so I am now beckoned back up the stairs. Of course after telling them all to get back into bed, my daughter needs another hug, my stepson is ninja fighting with his stuffed animals on his bed, and the little one is crying because Mommy is still not laying with him for "two minutes". This circle of events can take up to 30 minutes to subside. All the while my oblivious husband is downstairs relaxing in front of the TV. On Mother's Day...Daddy can put the kids to bed!

10.)  I want my children to know how much I love them.  This one speaks for itself.  Everyday, from now until I no longer walk this earth, and even after....they are the reason I breathe, the beat of my heart, every wish on every star, my motivation and inspiration, my first thought in the morning and my last when I shut my eyes, my reason to be.  And if having another 60 imperfect Mother's Days means we get to spend them together...I'm okay with that.

 

Pretty

I didn't have a "fancy' or "girly" mother growing up.  My mom preferred jeans to dresses, motorcycle meetings to sit down dinners, and camping or fishing to laying on the beach and getting a tan.  It was I, who taught her, how to put on make-up and style her hair.  She focused her parenting energies more on the academic and athletic aspects of my adolescence.  I on the other hand, was a "girly" girl.  But because I didn't have much guidance in that area, I turned to magazines and other forms of social media to tell me how I should look and act. 

My mother let me, she really didn't know any better.  She didn't realize just how much a young girls sense of self image can be warped by obsessing over stick thin super models airbrushed to the nines.  So now that I had my own daughter I wanted to make sure she knew just how beautiful and perfect she was, how to do her hair, dress up, feel fancy, and to prevent her from ever thinking she wasn't good enough in her own skin.  Then the other day I was reading one of her class assignments, and I realized my approach had severely backfired.  It started out fine.  She listed her name, her favorite thing to do, her favorite color, and then came the very open ended fill in the blank; "People say I'm _________"  and scrawled in her little hand writing was the word "pretty".

This innocent little word was like a punch to the gut.  I turned the word over and over in my mind, "pretty"...yes, she is pretty, beautiful in fact.  But she is also smart, funny, charismatic, a loving sister, always willing to help, kind hearted, the list goes on and on.  But out of everything, she picked "pretty".  In my efforts to prevent her from ever feeling like I did growing up (and still do at times), I had put no emphasis on her other attributes.  What did this say about me as a mother?  I should have seen this coming.  Watching a six year old posing in front of her mirror in five different outfits before she will leave the house, should have seemed odd to me.  But I just thought it was cute.  Having to talk her out of a crying fit because her hair didn't look "just right" should have been a red flag.  But I just thought she was being moody.  Catching her trying to go to Sunday School in full face make-up, should have made me question the message I was sending her.  But I just thought she was being creative. This realization is extremely humbling.  Instead of raising my daughter to value everything about herself, strengths and weaknesses alike, I have taught her that in life, she is "pretty". 

She's a child.  She is suppose to get dirty, and look unkempt from time to time. She shouldn't care how she looks, not yet anyway.  I know this isn't something that can be changed over night.  But my goal is that I will tell her something positive about herself everyday that isn't related to her appearance.  Society puts too much emphasis on outer beauty as it is, I shouldn't be feeding it as well.  I want her to grow into a strong, intelligent, self sufficient woman that knows she is more than just a face, that what's on the inside matters even more than what's on the outside.  I want her to see herself that way I see her, the way everyone else sees her for that matter, as a little girl that makes the lives brighter of everyone she touches because of who she is, not what she looks like.