Mean Girls

As a mother of daughters, I am well aware of the "hurts to come", and I would give anything to take them away, anything to ensure that my children never have to feel even one ounce of that pain, anything to bypass the tortures of girl friendships. But life is as it is, and I can only stand on the sidelines cheering them on. The last week of school before break was particularily difficult for our "tween". She came home from school a few days in a row distraught over what "she said I said that I never said". A tiff with a few of girls in her social group had O in near tears, but the "abandonment of her BFF" had sent our oldest daughter in a downward spiral of tween torment. My first reaction was to have her call her BFF and get to the truth of the matter. But I let her ride the wave of emotions until she was in a calmer state of mind. We looked at old pictures, updated my address book, and decided to check emails. O was dismayed to find an email from yet another friend that read: "O, I'm mad at you because you are mean to me." The flood of tears let loose, and the only consolation I could offer was my tattered sweatshirt sleeve. We talked about options. She could call this friend, tell her how her email made her feel, talk about the problem, and move on based on that conversation. She could ignore the email and go on with our weekend. Or she could email the friend back letting her know that she was sorry for whatever she may have said or done to hurt her friend's feelings and that she would never want to hurt that friend. O selected option 3 and gracefully typed an email. She felt great after that. O and her BFF made up that afternoon (which was inevitable as they are two peas in a pod). Then came the text message, from yet another girl friend to O's BFF: "The only reason I didn't come over and talk to you today was because you were with O." It was a stab deep in her heart, and she held nothing back. I held O later that night until she couldn't cry anymore. And we talked Girl Talk, about how ugly girls are to one another and how it's going to hurt like this many more times in her life. And then I did the best that I could do...I reminded O of all of the wonderful support she has around her from family to friends. Her daddy and I hugged her until she was tired of hugs and could smile again. It will still hurt tomorrow, and I'm hurting alongside of her. But she knows there is more sunshine to come.

Wii Surprise

The girls were so excited to open gifts this year. I think that this was due in part to a few pre-Xmas family conversations about the Spirit of Giving, and "those less fortunate", and "tight budget this year". They were surprised at the number of gifts laying beneath the tree and shook each one firmly wondering what it might hold. My aunt surprised us all with a huge mailed package containing several wrapped gifts for each of them. After opening a few boxes of clothing and a neat light-up aquarium, O opened a smaller box and squealed in delight, "A Wii Remote!!!! Mom we have a Wii????" K and I were taken aback, but both said simultaneously, "Probably not, sweetheart. Remember, some times gifts are wrapped in recycled boxes, so go ahead and open the box." The words barely left our lips when Thing 1 and Thing 2 screeched "OMG!!! It is a Wii!!!" And there among the shreds of wrapping paper, they had discovered the gaming system of their dreams. (Something their father and I had tossed back and forth as we scrambled for this years gifts, deciding in the end that they'd prefer Rock Band). But to all of our surprise, there was the Wii. We quickly finished our gift-opening and then set-up the system for the girls. Over the next day or so, the girls played the sports games and Super Mario Bros, trying to stay fair and take turns (2 remotes/3 children). Having spent the last 3 days trying to monitor how much time they're each spending playing the video game, I began to wonder what exactly my children are getting out of it. Is is educational? It probably depends on your definition of the word. Is it turning them into "couch potatoes"? They're on their feet and jumping around, so clearly not. Is it turning them into zombies? Today the youngest and oldest were playing Mario Bros. They played simultaneously. When O's character "died" and was about to be resurrected for the umteenth time, B said, "Here, L, I'll just die, too, so we'll have the same amount of lives and can keep going together." Hmm.

School Project: The Long Home

Oand I spent a good part of the day working dillegently on her 3-D construction of a replica Iroquois Long Home. What began as a fun, creative mom-and-daughter morning quickly turned into a teeth-grinding, patience-testing fiasco. The first lesson: Gingerbread works better on Food Network than my kitchen. The second lesson: Hot glue guns are lifesavers...until you burn the pads of your fingers.

Plan A quickly dissolved into Plan B...In the end, she was ecstatic with the results, adding two small campfires (candy corn) and two slabs of "deer meat" (beef jerky), all the while thanking me for taking the time to help her. What a great kid.

Santa for one more year.

My husband and I agree that we love how honestly naive our children remain, even as our eldest daughter turns eleven. We love that the magic of Christmas is a buzz of static electricity charging the air with excitement and anticipation. One recent afternoon, as we were discussing our holiday plans, our three girls looked quietly at one another as one of them bravely asked, "Mom, is Santa Claus real...or do you just buy us presents and write that they come from him?" I paused, breathed deep, and asked, "What do you think?" M answered quickly, "Well, a kid at school said that his mom and dad told him Santa isn't real, and that all the moms and dads have to pretend and buy the kids presents." I looked at each of them carefully and asked, "But what do you believe?" They each looked into their laps, as if waiting for the right answer to simply fall into them. Then O, the oldest, said "Well, do you believe in Santa, Mom?" I dove in head-first..."Girls, I do believe in Santa Claus and the spirit of Christmas. And there may be some moms and dads that do need to buy gifts for their children and say that they are from Santa...but those might be the children who didn't make it onto Santa's "Nice" list. Remember, Santa doesn't bring gifts to boys and girls who are on the "Naughty" list. And I imagine those children are pretty sad on Christmas morning...and maybe those moms and dads just don't like to see their children sad. But your mom and dad are very lucky because each of you works so hard all year long to stay at the top of that "Nice" list, that we never worry about whether or not there will be a present under the tree for you from Santa." They each smiled so sweetly, nodding their heads. B, the youngest, added, "That's what we thought, Mom. Because Santa always brings us something that we like...and you just give us socks."

Small Fry

M, aka Thing 1, is officially 1 1/2 inches shorter than her younger sibling. It didn't happen overnight. In fact, this has been creeping up on our middle daughter since she was a toddler. Her stature is certainly not passed down from her father at 6'1, but rather 'lil ol' me. Many who don't know our family assume that she and her younger sister, aka Thing 2, are"twins", claiming that they look nearly identical (yea, if you're blind as a bat) and were exactly the same size. It wasn't until this schoolyear, when B began to gain 1/4 inch at at a time that M decided that she didn't like her size. The other day she sadly reported that there were kindergarteners taller than her, a third grader. I simply smiled and told her how much I love her. We talked for a bit about my own issues being "vertically challenged" and my eventual acceptance for the body that God gave me. (Okay, I haven't fully accepted this body...but for the sake of my daughter...) At the end of our conversation, I asked her if she felt any better. She looked at me quite seriously and said, "Mom, look, you've been dealing with this a LOT longer than I have, so you'll have to give me a little time to get over it, okay?"

Daddy's Little Girl

O spent a good part of the morning trying on a few different camisoles underneath her white V-neck top. She finally settled on a dark brown ribbed tank that flattered her darker complexion and complemented the dark stitching around the neckline of the outer top, although I doubt she cared about either. I noticed how "grown up" she appeared and commented on it to her (perhaps for the 10th time this weekend). She is a self-proclaimed Fashion Diva and loves funky socks and cool hats. Yet, she's a truly down-to-earth kid and a typical "tween". We started the schoolyear with some small concerns about the physical changes occuring in her body. After lots of Mom & Daughter talks, a few read-a-louds with Dad and the help of American Girl's The Care and Keeping of You, and a wonderful dialogue between her and her very understanding male teacher, O was able to shrug off her anxiety. I don't think the same can be said of her poor father who was appalled to notice a year ago that his firstborn had begun to develop "buds" overnight. As he approached her for their ritual morning hug and kiss today, he glanced at her briefly then turned wide-eyed toward me. I smiled knowingly. He looked back at her as she said, "What's wrong, Daddy?" He quickly recovered and hugged her tightly, eyes nearly bulging now. He let go of O and she moved away from him to clear her spot at the table. He motioned for me to follow him out of hearing range. "What on earth.....how....when did we go from "buds" to "cleavage"?!? The poor man was so bewildered. I laughed then. "Honey, she is always very 'covered' with hoodies and layers. Today she chose something else, and that's okay." In fact, it was a fairly modest top. He shook his head, still in shock. For him, this was anything but okay. Daddy's little girl was no longer a little girl.