It's amazing how much has changed from one school year to the next. This year I am officially the mother of a high schooler! I know, scary, right? This year all of my children are in three different schools. This will never happen again. I have one in high school, one in middle school and one in elementary school. And I couldn't be prouder of all three of my little snowflakes.
My son started marching band in high school. He is officially taller than me now by at least a couple of inches. In fact I have started feeling a little awkward reaching up to hug him. What happened? He was always in top band in middle school, and now, in high school, he is also in the top band as an incoming freshman! Quite an accomplishment for my little man. And a little man is definitely what he is becoming. He has started to get all the mood swings typical with being a teenager. It is exhausting to stay on top of it, but I tell you now that it is well worth it. My son is still respectful, polite, happy, funny and charming. Most days. He still has his dark side. Like all kids, he is still pushing his limits and trying to see what he can get away with, which isn't much. And like all kids, learning to drive is most prevalent in his mind. Eek!
My eldest daughter started seventh grade this year, so this isn't her first rodeo. She is coming very close to passing me up on the height scale, too, but I should point out that it isn't very hard to do. This year she was much more concerned about her hair. Oh, her precious hair! This summer she wanted to dye it blue and we tried to do it with Kool-Aid but her hair is very dark and it didn't show up very well. Then we tried it with a temporary hair color and it still didn't show up very well. Now she wants to just dye her hair a different, but normal hair color. I keep trying to explain to her that with dark hair there is only so much we can do. So right now we're settling on straightening her wavy locks each morning before school. Today's freak out was over a tiny little pimple on her forehead. I didn't even see it until she pointed it out, but apparently it was huge! Like, gigantic! At least she's not chasing boys. More like she's busy bossing them around. She doesn't put up with much BS from anyone anymore, not since learning the hard way what makes a good friend. She leaves chasing the boys to my youngest.
My youngest is in her last year of elementary school and couldn't be in more of a hurry to grow up. She frequently has conversations with her BFF about which boys they have crushes on (tee hee) and which boys are just gross (blech). She has most recently taken to stealing her older sister's sports bras and wearing them to school, much to big sis' displeasure, because, you know, she doesn't even need them. But as I have to remind big sis, the whole reason she has the sports bras to begin with was because she was so desperate to wear a bra just like all her little friends were. And that is just what my youngest is doing. As to the boys? I finally had a sit down with my baby girl about chasing boys. We reached an understanding that boys can wait, education is her main priority right now. Let's hope she keeps that in mind for a very long time.
I'm excited for this year. I am very involved in my son's band program. I was in band and loved it. I'm looking forward to my oldest daughter's choir concerts. My youngest daughter is usually pretty involved with student council and might be again this year, we'll have to wait and see. I hope all of you have a fantastic school year!
Showing posts with label body image. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body image. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Monday, April 21, 2014
Lice Wars
I have gone my entire life without having to experience the itchy creepy crawly feeling associated with having lice. Until this weekend. That'll teach me to snuggle with my kids. My youngest daughter started scratching furiously at her head a few weeks ago. And, being a diligent mother, I began checking her head regularly for those little vermin called lice. I never saw anything until Friday. There was a little teeny tiny thing crawling in her hair. I caught it, killed it, and Googled it. I had no clue what lice looked like, but I was about to get an education.
When you find out you have a head lice infestation the first thing you do is question your hygiene. Are my kids clean enough? Do I wash our sheets often enough? Should I cut their hair shorter? Should I change our shampoo? Do I vacuum often enough? Should I clean my furniture? How old are our mattresses? Why do I let them share their brushes with each other? How did I miss this?
I'm telling you this is all hogwash. First of all, lice is super common childhood ailment. As crowded as our schools are, it's easy for the little boogers to find new hosts everyday. All it takes is a little head to head contact. Does your kid play sports? Then they risk getting lice every time they huddle up. How about every time they have small group lessons? Or tell each other secrets on the playground? Or share head phones for the computer? Or share pillows in a reading nook?
Wanna talk about hygiene? Lice actually prefer clean hair to dirty hair because it's easier to climb on. That blows the theory that only dirty people get lice out of the proverbial water. Also, girls are more likely to get lice than boys. I have a feeling that may be because we're more likely to share secrets, brushes, and hats than our dirtier, stingier counter parts.
I went the traditional route and used the nasty chemical shampoo to treat my kids' lice as well as my own. Yes, I got lice through all the snuggling and loving I get from my kids. It seems that Daddy, surprisingly, escaped the infestation, but I still made him suffer the treatment. It's only fair. Because of my migraines I don't use a lot of chemicals around the house. So I could have tried some of the home remedies like mayonnaise, olive oil, petroleum jelly, gasoline and kerosene. But they were a little too much, and kind of gross, even for me.
While it really sucks getting lice, take it as a sign that your kid is clean and socially healthy. I think of it as a sign that I must be doing something right. I am raising kids that not only have good hygiene, but are little social butterflies. But I still told them not to tell anyone they had lice. That's just gross.
When you find out you have a head lice infestation the first thing you do is question your hygiene. Are my kids clean enough? Do I wash our sheets often enough? Should I cut their hair shorter? Should I change our shampoo? Do I vacuum often enough? Should I clean my furniture? How old are our mattresses? Why do I let them share their brushes with each other? How did I miss this?
I'm telling you this is all hogwash. First of all, lice is super common childhood ailment. As crowded as our schools are, it's easy for the little boogers to find new hosts everyday. All it takes is a little head to head contact. Does your kid play sports? Then they risk getting lice every time they huddle up. How about every time they have small group lessons? Or tell each other secrets on the playground? Or share head phones for the computer? Or share pillows in a reading nook?
Wanna talk about hygiene? Lice actually prefer clean hair to dirty hair because it's easier to climb on. That blows the theory that only dirty people get lice out of the proverbial water. Also, girls are more likely to get lice than boys. I have a feeling that may be because we're more likely to share secrets, brushes, and hats than our dirtier, stingier counter parts.
I went the traditional route and used the nasty chemical shampoo to treat my kids' lice as well as my own. Yes, I got lice through all the snuggling and loving I get from my kids. It seems that Daddy, surprisingly, escaped the infestation, but I still made him suffer the treatment. It's only fair. Because of my migraines I don't use a lot of chemicals around the house. So I could have tried some of the home remedies like mayonnaise, olive oil, petroleum jelly, gasoline and kerosene. But they were a little too much, and kind of gross, even for me.
While it really sucks getting lice, take it as a sign that your kid is clean and socially healthy. I think of it as a sign that I must be doing something right. I am raising kids that not only have good hygiene, but are little social butterflies. But I still told them not to tell anyone they had lice. That's just gross.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Bra Envy Leads to Breast Envy
When I was ten, I had the worst case of Bra Envy. That's the precursor to Breast Envy. It ate me up. I don't know if all little girls go through Bra Envy or just us late bloomers, but I remember it very clearly.
When I was in fifth grade I thought all of my friends were starting to develop and it drove me crazy. There they all were. All wearing bras. Messing with their bra straps. Having to adjust themselves. I was going mad with jealously! I begged my mom to buy me a bra. But for what? What would a bra possibly be holding in? I was lucky I had fat enough on my body to keep me warm, let alone try form boobies. So I thought I was real smart. I thought that if I just stood up real straight and stuck my little chest out, it would look like I was getting bigger on top. It didn't stop there. I would wear an undershirt or something under my clothes. You know, to give the appearance of bra straps. I didn't care if they were big and bulky. And I would fiddle with an imaginary strap in the middle of my back, just like all my real bra wearing friends did. It worked until a boy in class went to snap my bra and discovered there was nothing there. I was mortified. So I did the next best thing. I hiked my underwear up as high as it could go. Until it almost reached the middle of my back if I arched my spine. This was a long time time ago. All we kids had back then were Granny Panties. Then I would fiddle with my undies as if they were my bra strap. I was desperate.
Don't judge me.
I don't think I got my first training bra until the end of fifth grade. And I never actually needed a bra until maybe seventh grade. I'll even let you in on a little secret. I wore the Wonder Bra when I got married because I wanted a little something on top. Do you remember those? Of course you do. Now I have the best in Victoria's Secret bras, but I want better boobs. I had kids. Enough said. Bra Envy leads to Breast Envy.
So, what do I tell my ten year old daughter? In her mind's eye, all her little friends are starting to wear bras and little undershirts because, let's face it, they need them. My daughter, my precious little girl, does not. She is built like I was at ten years old. Scrawny. But lucky for her, she has me to help guide her through this sensitive time. I went out and bought her the damn bra.
When I was in fifth grade I thought all of my friends were starting to develop and it drove me crazy. There they all were. All wearing bras. Messing with their bra straps. Having to adjust themselves. I was going mad with jealously! I begged my mom to buy me a bra. But for what? What would a bra possibly be holding in? I was lucky I had fat enough on my body to keep me warm, let alone try form boobies. So I thought I was real smart. I thought that if I just stood up real straight and stuck my little chest out, it would look like I was getting bigger on top. It didn't stop there. I would wear an undershirt or something under my clothes. You know, to give the appearance of bra straps. I didn't care if they were big and bulky. And I would fiddle with an imaginary strap in the middle of my back, just like all my real bra wearing friends did. It worked until a boy in class went to snap my bra and discovered there was nothing there. I was mortified. So I did the next best thing. I hiked my underwear up as high as it could go. Until it almost reached the middle of my back if I arched my spine. This was a long time time ago. All we kids had back then were Granny Panties. Then I would fiddle with my undies as if they were my bra strap. I was desperate.
Don't judge me.
I don't think I got my first training bra until the end of fifth grade. And I never actually needed a bra until maybe seventh grade. I'll even let you in on a little secret. I wore the Wonder Bra when I got married because I wanted a little something on top. Do you remember those? Of course you do. Now I have the best in Victoria's Secret bras, but I want better boobs. I had kids. Enough said. Bra Envy leads to Breast Envy.
So, what do I tell my ten year old daughter? In her mind's eye, all her little friends are starting to wear bras and little undershirts because, let's face it, they need them. My daughter, my precious little girl, does not. She is built like I was at ten years old. Scrawny. But lucky for her, she has me to help guide her through this sensitive time. I went out and bought her the damn bra.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
20 Reasons I've Decided NOT to Workout
1. I don't want to make the other moms jealous.
2. I don't like getting hot and sweaty.
3. I don't have any cute workout clothes.
4. If I were a major babe, it would just embarrass my kids.
5. I just used the word 'babe'. Clearly I don't need to be one.
6. I think I may allergic to exercise. It makes my face turn red and I start breathing heavily.
7. Working out makes me hungry. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?
8. Great. Now I want a Snickers.
9. Hold on, I'm chewing...
10. Exercising makes me count. I have to count calories, steps, candy bars... And I hate math.
11. Exercising makes me thirsty.
12. And it's too early for margaritas. Dammit.
13. Gyms smell funny.
14. Sweaty people smell funny.
15. B.O. is the pits! HAHA Get it?
16. I like smelling good.
17. I also dislike pain; i.e. muscle soreness and cramps.
18. Ugh! And it's so boring! You have to do it everyday! Who wants to do that?
19. You can't see changes right away. No instant gratification here!
20. I'm a mom. I do enough already.
2. I don't like getting hot and sweaty.
3. I don't have any cute workout clothes.
4. If I were a major babe, it would just embarrass my kids.
5. I just used the word 'babe'. Clearly I don't need to be one.
6. I think I may allergic to exercise. It makes my face turn red and I start breathing heavily.
7. Working out makes me hungry. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?
8. Great. Now I want a Snickers.
9. Hold on, I'm chewing...
10. Exercising makes me count. I have to count calories, steps, candy bars... And I hate math.
11. Exercising makes me thirsty.
12. And it's too early for margaritas. Dammit.
13. Gyms smell funny.
14. Sweaty people smell funny.
15. B.O. is the pits! HAHA Get it?
16. I like smelling good.
17. I also dislike pain; i.e. muscle soreness and cramps.
18. Ugh! And it's so boring! You have to do it everyday! Who wants to do that?
19. You can't see changes right away. No instant gratification here!
20. I'm a mom. I do enough already.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Body Image
I recently noticed that my youngest one, a daughter aged seven, has been making comments like, "I need to exercise", "Look how many inches I have lost", and "My tummy looks big today". I was floored to hear these comments coming from sweet seven year old. Especially one as active (and not needing to lose weight) as mine. It didn't take very long for the light bulb to click and realize that she was doing what kids do best. Copying Mommy.
Body image is one of those subjects that doesn't get talked about until there is a problem. A negative body image can have very damaging consequences. Eating disorders, low self esteem, and depression are just a few examples. When someone is suffering from a poor body image, we take it upon ourselves to try to boost them up so they feel better. We reassure and encourage them. After all, we've all been there, haven't we? Then we talk about them as if something were wrong. How could they feel so badly about themselves? Or how did they let themselves get to this point? How come no one noticed sooner? And we act like we don't understand. On the flip side, have you ever noticed that we always describe people in the most negative of terms when they have a healthy body image? Someone who is happy with the way they are is suddenly conceited, vain, pompous, arrogant, cocky, narcissistic, egotistical, stuck-up, or snooty. We can never just be happy for those with a healthy body image. And heaven forbid that those who are satisfied with themselves be imperfect in society's eyes. But we form society's opinions. We are society's eyes, ears, brains, and mouths. It's a vicious cycle that we stuck ourselves in. It affects us as mothers as we struggle to accept the changes that motherhood has made to our bodies. And it affects our children as they see us struggle.
Fifty years ago, the average woman weighed roughly 120 pounds and wore about a size eight. Today the average woman weighs about 145 pounds and wears a size 12-14. Fifty years ago, we had to be a lot more active to get things done. We forget that convenience wasn't always at our fingertips. Kids didn't have video games and mindless cartoons to entertain them. In fact, television wasn't even broadcast 24 hours a day like it is now. Food had to be prepared because TV dinners were still pretty new. There was no internet so you still had to physically go somewhere to mail a letter or talk to someone. No wonder people were smaller. Sizes have even changed to appease our vanity. A size 8 in the 1950's is roughly a size 2/4 today. Our fashion models have even gotten skinnier. Twenty years they were wearing a size 8. Today they wear a size 0. Our most famous stars are averaging a size 2-4.
It's no wonder that I struggle with my body image. I never bought into the idea that because we are constantly bombarded by images that I would somehow be affected. I thought I was smarter than that. I had a theory that because I had educated myself on the topic, I could avoid the pitfalls of a poor body image. It only took my fat clothes becoming my skinny clothes for me to become obsessed with my body image. And when I became obsessed, so did my daughter.
It didn't matter that I wasn't talking about her. It didn't matter that I wasn't asking her to exercise or eat less or eat better or watch her weight or the millions of other things we tell ourselves to do. She was copying me and I was doing it to myself. What should matter is that she says I'm beautiful and that she loves me and that she says I'm the best mom ever.
So I'll climb down off my soap-box now and be honest with myself. Yeah, I'm not real happy with my pudgy belly or my floppy arms. And maybe my legs aren't as nice as they used to be. But not being proud of who I am is affecting how my kids feel about themselves. I should hold my head a little higher and cut myself some slack. I've been through a lot to get here. My kids like me just the way I am. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little self improvement. I just need to go about it in a way that has a positive effect on my children's lives. The things we do have a lasting effect on our children. Let's make sure they are positive.
If you or someone you know needs help with an eating disorder please contact:
NEDA
NIH
Mayo Clinic
Fifty years ago information link here
Body image is one of those subjects that doesn't get talked about until there is a problem. A negative body image can have very damaging consequences. Eating disorders, low self esteem, and depression are just a few examples. When someone is suffering from a poor body image, we take it upon ourselves to try to boost them up so they feel better. We reassure and encourage them. After all, we've all been there, haven't we? Then we talk about them as if something were wrong. How could they feel so badly about themselves? Or how did they let themselves get to this point? How come no one noticed sooner? And we act like we don't understand. On the flip side, have you ever noticed that we always describe people in the most negative of terms when they have a healthy body image? Someone who is happy with the way they are is suddenly conceited, vain, pompous, arrogant, cocky, narcissistic, egotistical, stuck-up, or snooty. We can never just be happy for those with a healthy body image. And heaven forbid that those who are satisfied with themselves be imperfect in society's eyes. But we form society's opinions. We are society's eyes, ears, brains, and mouths. It's a vicious cycle that we stuck ourselves in. It affects us as mothers as we struggle to accept the changes that motherhood has made to our bodies. And it affects our children as they see us struggle.
Fifty years ago, the average woman weighed roughly 120 pounds and wore about a size eight. Today the average woman weighs about 145 pounds and wears a size 12-14. Fifty years ago, we had to be a lot more active to get things done. We forget that convenience wasn't always at our fingertips. Kids didn't have video games and mindless cartoons to entertain them. In fact, television wasn't even broadcast 24 hours a day like it is now. Food had to be prepared because TV dinners were still pretty new. There was no internet so you still had to physically go somewhere to mail a letter or talk to someone. No wonder people were smaller. Sizes have even changed to appease our vanity. A size 8 in the 1950's is roughly a size 2/4 today. Our fashion models have even gotten skinnier. Twenty years they were wearing a size 8. Today they wear a size 0. Our most famous stars are averaging a size 2-4.
It's no wonder that I struggle with my body image. I never bought into the idea that because we are constantly bombarded by images that I would somehow be affected. I thought I was smarter than that. I had a theory that because I had educated myself on the topic, I could avoid the pitfalls of a poor body image. It only took my fat clothes becoming my skinny clothes for me to become obsessed with my body image. And when I became obsessed, so did my daughter.
It didn't matter that I wasn't talking about her. It didn't matter that I wasn't asking her to exercise or eat less or eat better or watch her weight or the millions of other things we tell ourselves to do. She was copying me and I was doing it to myself. What should matter is that she says I'm beautiful and that she loves me and that she says I'm the best mom ever.
So I'll climb down off my soap-box now and be honest with myself. Yeah, I'm not real happy with my pudgy belly or my floppy arms. And maybe my legs aren't as nice as they used to be. But not being proud of who I am is affecting how my kids feel about themselves. I should hold my head a little higher and cut myself some slack. I've been through a lot to get here. My kids like me just the way I am. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little self improvement. I just need to go about it in a way that has a positive effect on my children's lives. The things we do have a lasting effect on our children. Let's make sure they are positive.
If you or someone you know needs help with an eating disorder please contact:
NEDA
NIH
Mayo Clinic
Fifty years ago information link here
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