Birthday suit: My daughter's body image

My eldest turned eight years old! Happy Birthday to my sweet girl! Sabrina is the bright ray of sunlight that made me a mother and enveloped me in her noble and compassionate love ♥ 01.08.12  I love you baby girl!

We had a fabulous birthday celebration for Sabrina (I'll post a separate one of the party).  We started the special weekend on Saturday and it went on into Sunday (the actual day).

We had another picnic by the shore.  She simply loves being this close to nature.  We invited some close friends to come along, my dear friend and her two boys.

Sabrina confessed to us recently that she has a 'crush' on my friend's older son, Maximo.  We also later found out that, well, Maximo has a 'crush' on Sabrina as well.  You can imagine all the 'puppy love' happening when they get together.  A very subtle and pal-like 'crush' is what they display.

Sabrina was all excited about the fact that I'd let her wear her bathing suit this time for her to play IN the water.  Unlike the last time.

Earlier that day, Sabrina confided in her father with a dilemma she was facing.

*As interpreted by my 'darling husband'

S: "Daddy, I need to tell you something."

DH: "Okay, sure, tell me."

S: "I kind of think that I shouldn't wear my bathing suit to the picnic today."

DH: "Why, honey?"

S: "Because I don't want Maximo to see me in it."

DH: "Oh, no, don't be silly.  Why?"

S: "Daddy, because I have a NICE body and I don't want Maximo to like me for my body."

*DH was trying to keep himself from bursting into laughter at this point* 


DH: "Sabrina, I don't think he's going to look at you in THAT way.  You have nothing to worry about."

S: "Really, Daddy? Okay, then I'll wear it."

When DH approached me about this dilemma, I was expecting quite the opposite reaction from Sabrina because had that been an 8 year old ME, I would have totally had a HUGE complex about my body.  Because I DID when I was her age.  I was self-conscious, shy, worried and simply hated the idea of even putting a bathing suit on.

Me. Age 11-It took me 3 scoops of courage to step out and get photographed here.

My body image complexes continued on into my early twenties.  I was obsessed with 'looking' skinny and wearing a tiny clothing size and simply had no interest in accepting my body as it was.  I hadn't realized that my body was indeed perfect in every way because I lived in it.  

Me. Age 11.  I didn't love my body.  

My daughter has arrived at a place that took me much longer to realize.  She loves her body.  She accepts herself as she IS.  She's aware that her body has power and beauty.  She 'knows' that her opposite sex will possibly 'see' these things in her as well.  I'm happy that she's aware of this fact.  She's not shy and doesn't put herself down.  My Sabrina simply enjoys the fact that she loves her body.  Period.  I.  love.  this. 

I could have definitely learned a thing or two from my daughter when I was younger.  She's taught me so much in eight years.  The best lesson has been to allow myself to BE who I AM no matter what.  She IS this.  She LIVES it and SHARES it with the world.   

Sabrina enjoyed her picnic.

She played in the water.

She wore her bathing suit.

Most of all, she loved herself in her suit and the fact that she didn't mind Maximo seeing her in it as well.  

Sabrina tossing a rock in her suit.  Maximo is the one picking one up and his brother, Joaquin is considering another rock to throw.  Simple fun at a picnic by the shore.  

Confidence is looking at you... 

Sometimes I feel like a single mom

Image

I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to be a 'good' mom.  Yesterday I wrote about mom guilt and how I said 'smell ya later' in order to have 'fun' with my girls.  I don't have 'good' mom days 7 days a week.

Here's what I DO have several times a week: Terrible mom days, scary mom days, depressed mom days, overwhelmed mom days, tired mom days, happy mom days, blissful mom days, sad mom days, excited mom days, get 'shit' done mom days, etc.  You get my point.

Here's the thing...life is HARD.  Yes, very, very hard.

Being a parent is wonderful and exhausting... I'm married to a wonderful man that works 12, sometimes 14 hours a day outside of the home.  He's an excellent husband, father, friend AND provider.  I'm eternally grateful for being able to be home with my girls while doing what I love, which is the obvious, writing.  Yet, sometimes, I feel like a 'single' mom.  Yes, a married 'single' mom!

It's my job to feed my girlshubby&dog, scrub the toilets, prepare/cook meals, organize, bookkeep, grocery shop, bathe, wash/fold, drive to activities, etc., etc., etc.  I also work from home and have to keep up with my writing, pitching ideas and strive to slowly contribute my monetary part as well.

Momhood.  Is.  Not.  Easy.  I love my husband and I feel like a 'single' parent.

The predicament is quite interesting and mind boggling.  I know many 'married' moms that feel this way.  I am NOT the only one.

I applaud the 'real' single moms out there and all that they juggle and deal with.  It cannot be easy but they are NOT alone.  We married women feel you!  Compassion is hard to come by.  I feel that all of us moms are in this together.  Married or single.  Being a mom is a job that is overworked and underpaid.

I love my life.  I adore my husband and children.  I love being a mom.  I also struggle with it ALL.

But I'm doing my best.

There are days where my body cannot stand another task even if it means that the girls don't get a bath that day.

My room is messy more days of the week than I'd like it to be.

My floors get mopped once every two or three weeks (I think.)

I'll make the girls breakfast for dinner some days because there was no time to plan a better meal.

A pony tail is much easier to make on their hair than pig-tails or a braid.  

Sometimes I won't shower for two days.  Gross.

I often have five loads of laundry to wash.

My dog smells like a raccoon.

But I keep my toe nails painted, even if it's just the two toes peeking out of a peep toe shoe.

Nevertheless, I'm doing my best...

Mom guilt

I really, really, really hate feeling guilty about most things 'motherhood.'  

Say it with me: 'Mom. Guilt. Sucks.' La, la, la, la, laaaaaaaa, la, la, la, laaaaaaaaa!

So. Over. It.

I often feel torn between house work and time with my girls.  I spend seven out of seven days picking up the house or washing clothes or folding clothes or piling crusty dishes in the sink or blah, blah, blah, blah...

It's the same crap week after week! It is what it is.  This week I decided to ditch all the 'same old housework' for un-guilty time with my girls.  Even if the house stayed messy.  Whatever!

Smell ya later, mom guilt!! Hello three hours at the park on a beautiful day.

This is what I got to enjoy instead.  

Guilt-free moments ♥

Happy faces

THIS is way better than smelly house work

No guilt.

Confessions of an evil sister or why age difference is irrelevant

I have a younger sister.  Two, actually but I’m speaking of the one born after me.  She and I are six years, two months and 1 day apart.  

The first thing I thought of her when she was born was, ‘Her head is bigger than mine!’ and that she looked Asian (not that Asian babies aren’t adorable.)  As we grew up and she became increasingly annoying, I found myself committing some really evil pranks on her, you know, just to mess with her.

I was mean.  No.  Like.  Really.  Really.  Mean.  I used to revel in watching her get grossed out and vomit after I'd run my saliva filled index finger under her nose.  Once it dried, that’s all she’d smell.  Nasty old saliva and I’d practically piss in my pants from the laughter.  I was seven and she was two.  Awful! 

Another time I asked her to let me see her cavities and quickly took her open mouth opportunity to ‘hauck a loogie’ right into it.  She threw up.  The grossest thing I’ve ever done.  Seriously.

When she was six, I told her that the ‘Bride of Chucky’ would be visiting her at night because she liked her shoes.  The look on her face was f**cking priceless!

I’d say the ‘meanest’ moment was when I coaxed her into letting me cut her hair in to layers with my school scissors.  I wanted to practice artistry with her hair.  I DID promise to give her any one of my ‘New Kids on the Block’ wall poster’s (yes, I was one of those silly 13 year old girls squealing over Donnie.)  My hair cutting skills needed major improvement and then I changed my mind about giving her that poster after all.  She wore a hat to school the next day to cover up my 'artistry.'  Awful! 

I guess I really enjoyed the fact that I was six years two months and one day older than her.  My mom never knew about most of the pranks because even if she went to ‘tattletale’, I’d always come back with, “She’s lying, mom!”  Terrible, terrible me. 

My three sweet daughters are all relatively close in age.  The first two are twenty months apart and the last two are almost three years apart.  I figured that the closer they were in age, the less they’d harass one another.  Puh-leeze! I was SO wrong! Age is totally irrelevant here.  They taunt and tease each other just the same.  So.  Annoying.  Ugh.

I’m REALLY hoping that my daughters don’t get ridiculously creative with pranks against one another like I did to my poor little sister.  My sister and I STILL talk about the crap I did to her. 

No, I’m not proud of my ‘evil’ sister pranks but they definitely bring on a great chuckle every now and again.  I hope that my ‘slightly evil’ side didn’t get transmitted to my daughters while in utero.  In any event, my daughters have some pretty large ‘evil’ shoes to fill!

I love my sister.  Always have and always will…

My sister and me, circa 2000 ♥