Weighty Wednesday: The Hug I Couldn't Give

I have not come to magically love my body in the last week.

Yeah, I know, I was hoping that writing about it would make it happen too. Oh well.

And yet, I feel better than the woman I overheard the other day. This woman was definitely in better shape than I am, in fact, I thought she looked great. But apparently she wanted to look like her extremely petite friend (even though she was of medium height and had pretty big bones), or something. It was an awkward eavesdrop situation. But you couldn't mistake the anguish in her voice when she discussed how hard she'd worked to lose that 20 pounds. And how her husband didn't appreciate it. Or didn't notice? That part wasn't clear either.

I just wanted to hug her and tell her she looked great. I wanted to tell her to stop starving herself because she was being really grouchy with her kids. I wanted to tell her to use all that energy to paint or write or sing or run a marathon or take up tap dancing or read or run for office.

I have no recollection of where I read this, but it hit home so hard on so many levels that I now have it posted above my desk:

This relates to EVERYTHING in my life, but I mention it here because it's what I wanted to say to the woman I eavesdropped on.

I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when, instead of enjoying a few bites of cake, we eat six sweet potatoes. I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when we don't take the time to enjoy a meal. I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when we do the exercise we hate for 20 minutes instead of the one we enjoy (but doesn't necessarily burn as many calories) for an hour. I feel like any time we make a decision because we feel too fat/bad/sad/worthless/out of shape to ask for what we truly want, we are being hard on ourselves.

Whereas working hard on ourselves is enjoying one slice of cake, instead of scarfing down two because we feel "bad" for eating it at all. Or taking the yoga class we love instead of the boot camp we hate - who cares as long as we're off the couch? I feel like we're working hard on ourselves when we realize there's so much more to our attractiveness or worth than what the scale says. I feel like we're working hard on ourselves when we make choices based on our authentic wishes, not because we're afraid to be in front of other people in a bathing suit.

And by the way? I think you look beautiful today. Hugs.

Some Thoughts On Parenting

"Never do anything for your kid that they can do themselves."

I've read that quote, in various forms, in lots of different parenting advice books. I was able to do it when the first 2 kids were small. With them being 15 months apart, Ironflower pretty much had to learn to do things for herself quickly. And of course Lovebug wanted in on the action. But with Hugmonkey, things have been different. Even if I couldn't do something for him, one of his siblings could. So I would get them to do it. It was so much faster and easier. 

It was when he was 3 and was still not even attempting to put on his own slip on shoes that I realized I'd screwed up. Lovebug and Ironflower put on their own shoes well before 3. It was hell getting Hugmonkey to put his own shoes on. But after 2 months of hell, he does it now. And his coat if I lay it out for him. He gets his own pajamas. He puts on his own underwear, his own pants. None of this is huge, exactly, but in the last few weeks? His behavior has gotten so much better. The more I teach him to do, the more praise he gets for accomplishments like getting his own yogurt tube out of the refrigerator, the better he behaves in general. Apparently self-esteem and behavior are very closely tied together. I think I used to know that. 

So then we come to Ironflower and Lovebug. So capable at 2 and 3, 3 and 4. So well-behaved. It's not that they're poorly behaved now. But maybe things could be better. And maybe I should stop laying out their clothes for them. It seems that while I was able to overcome control freak tendencies when they were small, I've sort of kept them at those same levels. I still put toothpaste on their toothbrushes so they won't make a mess. At 7 and almost 6, they don't know how to answer the phone. Sure, they dress themselves and I have taught them to shower on their own, but that's about all the progress we've made since they were 3. Whoops.

So I need suggestions. What else can a kindergartner and a first grader do independently? I know I should step back from the toothpaste and laying out their clothes for them, but what other tasks are reasonable? What chores should they have around the house? Right now, it's picking up their own toys - something else they've been doing since they were small. Though, oddly, they do not seem to have gotten any faster at it. Anyway, how can I encourage competence and thus (hopefully) better behavior? I keep threatening to make them clean the bathroom as a punishment, but I'm guessing that's a little too advanced.

Also, I should probably stop threatening them with things I'm not going to do. Pretty sure I remember that rule from my teaching days, not to mention the countless parenting books. Next thing you know, I'll be feeding them Red Bull and pixie sticks before I force them to participate in "beauty" pageants.

Just kidding. I would never feed my kids Red Bull. 

When I Grow Up. . .

When I grow up, I'm going to stop caring what people think about me.

It would be one thing, I suppose, if I worked really hard to fit in and make people like me. But I did that in high school and I'm kind of over it now. It would be one thing if I didn't already have friends. It would be one thing if I was running for office.

But I'm not running for office. Hell, I couldn't even handle being a class mom. And let's face it, if I was trying to make people like me my blog probably wouldn't be a constant bitchfest about stupid people and/or why my children are more awesome and more challenging than average. I would probably repost those status updates on Facebook that describe how awesome my mother and my husband are.

If I wanted more people around here to like me, I would probably spend a lot more money on clothes. I would also probably remember more people's names. Oh, and I might stop talking so much (look, I don't get out a lot. I get a little excited.) Maybe I'd even be more patient when the woman ahead of me at the grocery store has to run back through the aisles FOUR times to get stuff she forgot and then pays with PENNIES (although you'd think refraining from punching her would make me likable enough).

But I'm not in high school anymore (Even though I have theory that life is really just a big version of high school, the lack of blue eyeshadow and the presence of wrinkles should be enough to remind me that actual high school, is, in fact, over). I would rather spend money on my family. And clearly I'm not going to grow out of this bitch phase. The patience for others is not going to magically appear.

So why does it bother me so much when people don't like me? Especially if, as is generally the case, I don't like them either. Is it just because my WASP background makes me believe that dislike should be buried so far under politeness that you can never even be sure if it's really there? Like these people are disrespecting me by being so obvious about it?

Or is it because at heart I"m still a 13 year old girl (and the fact that I actually get more zits now is just a little young-at-heart bonus)?