“Am I growing up too fast?”
I look up from my book and into those earnest brown eyes, surrounded by thick lashes. I take in the lock of hair falling in her face, there because she is growing it out. I look at the nose, liberally sprinkled with cute freckles, and at the mouth, soft and pink. Her face is lightly tanned from being outside all summer, although lately she has become a TV couch potato.
“Yes and no.”
The eyes roll, the nose squinches up and the mouth twists to the side.
“Mom!!!!”
OK, the quick and dirty response is not enough. I cast around, looking for a way to make it make sense. I know where this question is coming from. She has an uncanny ability to suddenly pop up during conversations that are about her (and her brother), and my husband and I had recently been talking about how quickly time has gone by.
” What I mean is I know you are growing up, but sometimes you surprise me. I know you are growing up, and even though there are things you are not ready for, there are times when I forget how much you are ready for. I am just not keeping up with you. Make sense?”
The eyebrows come together, the nose wrinkles, and I can see the thought process. She is a bright kid and I always try to answer honestly and directly, as much as I think I can. As much as she is ready for.
Her forehead clears and she looks at me with those bright brown eye, just like her father’s, and says brightly “OK!” She turns away, and then turns back. ‘I am growing up you know.” And she skips off to her room of purple and Tinkerbell and movie posters of the Jonas Brothers and Zac Efron, leaving me to ponder. Yes, I do know. And I am trying to cope, and I hope I am doing the parenting thing right.
We are trying. We monitor the movies we see and the tv watching, trying to choose positive things. I can only take so much Spongebob and Hannah Montana and Jonas Brothers, but these are the stations that seem the most harmless and at least there is a moral or lesson of some sort among the bad jokes and overacting. (I actually often enjoy Spongebob’s humor, but that is another blog for another time…) And I find the media ads in between to be something that, while pushing the latest toy or movie, at least not full of body image iconography or other things I am trying to protect my kids from. Greed I can handle, I can explain why we don’t need something, but some of those ads on other channels are introducing things I am not ready to explain. Nor do I think I need to. Yet.
So far my kids come to us with questions about things they wonder or have heard or seen, so I feel OK. I hope this continues, for a long time.
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Another conversation:
“Can I get a bra?”
I bite back my immediate response of “Whatever for?” (oh that sarcasm, it surfaces easily) and slide my eyes away from the chicken I am coating to look at my daughter. I can hear my husband suppressing a snort in the other room, but I know how important this question really is. This is not a question about bras, this is a question about her body.
“Sure.”
“When?” The excitement is there, with a touch of fear.
“Next time we go shopping, we can look at them and decide what you want.”
” I already know what I want. ” Oh, the confidence. “Some of us at school have talked about it.”
“OK, but we will look and pick one or two out.”
“YAY!”
I know how important this step is. It is not about supporting body parts (at least not yet) but about feeling good about herself. There are small mounds developing, and she is conscious of this. (Also, her shirts rub against the tender skin, but she isn’t so worried about that.) Fitting in and feeling good are important, as I emphasize to my husband later. He understands, but not the way I do, I think. The bra is a big step, even if it is just to make the points round under her clothes. She feels good, and that is what I want for her.
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“Does this make my butt look big?”
Oh, this questions hurts my heart. I have heard myself say this, both as a joke and in earnest, and now she is asking too.
I have struggled for a long time with body issues. In this media drenched world of models and super models and Internet ads for weight loss products I have tried to foster a confident person with good self-esteem. Can I do it with all of the other forces that are out there, pounding on her consciousness? Because as she gets older I have less and less control over what she is exposed to and talks about. For those of you joining this program already in progress, I am using this blog to try to explore and accept who I am and what I can do, and my biggest challenge is the questioning of myself about my abilities, including my parenting. (And accepting myself as I am, but that is another story too…)
We have talked about the tooth fairy and periods. We have discussed what it means to be nice to others and how to deal with bullies and mean girls. We have had long conversations about lots of things. Shes stands in a space that is not quite teen but not little anymore, a place I remember well for the pain and suffering, a place not yet labeled when I was that age, but is now called “the tweens.” I am hoping to help her navigate this ocean of questions and issues and come out on the other side ahead of the game. I am scared.
I answer honestly. “No, it doesn’t. You look just right.” She smiles and goes her way, to biking and playing with her American Girl doll, to playing school with her stuffed animals and having pretend conversations on her cell phone about fashion and boys. Back and forth on the cusp she rocks, and I will be there for her. Meanwhile, I am going to work on accepting myself and who I am, so I can be a better role model for her.
“You look just right.”
