I've seen a lot in the media lately where moms post something heartwarming, outrageous, or emotionally moving, people rally around them, and it turns out to be at least partially fabricated in order to gain attention. Random mom posts an anecdote about how she hates her body, but her kids tell her she's beautiful, stretch marks and all. These got a lot of negative commentary, claiming the women only posted so a bunch of strangers would comment on how beautiful they were to boost their egos. Fabricated stories or not, women's bodies have garnered a lot of attention in the media lately. Not just women's bodies, but women in general. Their health, sexuality, independence, public voice, and ability to stand up for themselves have been hot topics in the past few months. I've found myself swept up in it, not only because I'm a woman myself, but because I'm raising a small one.
Now obviously I don't think a man should make more than I do simply for having a penis, and I'll shout as loud as anyone if a bunch of cranky old white dudes think they should have ANY say in the goings on inside my uterus. I don't take kindly to cat-calling and street harassing, and I will call out any man who thinks it's his prerogative to do so, unless he wants to call out how I look like I'd be a good friend, or let me know I have a nice smile or that my sandals really bring my outfit together. Unfortunately, I've never heard a "Damn, girl. You are wearing those glasses," or a "I bet you'd bake a mean cake," but I'm holding out hope.
It's been a weird week in a weirder month. Well, I guess last month, since August just happened. But this week certainly wrapped up one of the more discombobulated months of my existence. In an day I talked back to a street harasser at lunch time, and after dinner had to break up a fight between two moms in Barnes and Noble, there came a lot of opportunities to discuss things with Lilah. I don't dumb things down for her, but I also don't want to overwhelm her with information she isn't able to process. It's a difficult balancing act sometimes. I also try extremely hard to never criticize my body or appearance in front of her. Of course there are those days where I stare sullenly into the mirror and loathe the reflection. There are the times I try on three outfits and each one fits me awkwardly in all the wrong places. But I swear, those are the times I leave the bathroom or bedroom and hear, "Mama, you look beautiful, or "I love those earrings!" In an effort to not appear a total hypocrite when I tell her excessive makeup only hides a beautiful face, it doesn't make one, I've scaled way back on the amount I wear myself, sticking more with nude tones, clear lip gloss, moisturizing creams, and SPF-enhanced mineral powders, saving the war paint for extremely special occasions. To my surprise, my skin is healthier and I look like myself in the mornings, not a weird, naked version of myself who wouldn't get the mail, let alone go out without "getting ready".
Lilah Rose and I talked a lot yesterday about the moms who got in a fight. Why grownups lose it too, how sometimes even parents freak out and act like kids, push in line, yell and call names. Lilah said, "You would never act like that, Mama." I told her she was probably right (I can't see myself putting my hands on another woman's face and shoving her back because she told me to get in line to get a Frozen bookmark), but that she'd seen me lose my temper plenty of times, snap at her or fight with Dano, say rude things or swear instead of taking a break and using nice words. I don't want her feeling like adults are infallible, or thinking we succeed without failing or royally screwing up. I don't want her respecting me because I'm her mother. I want her to respect me because I'm honest when I screw up, I can scrape up enough humility to apologize when I freak out. I want her to show me respect because I showed it to her first, and that's life. Sometimes there are people in charge of you that you don't respect or agree with, but they're still in charge. If you want respect, you show it to other people first. And unfortunately, she's already had to learn of several adults that no matter how they act or what they say, it's okay not to listen to them because they aren't in charge of her, or what they're telling her isn't right. That's tough to process at 5.
Today we were driving on the way to pick up Rowan for his birthday outing, and Lilah said something out of the blue that caught me completely off guard.
"Mama, I can't wait until I'm big and I turn into a person like you." I laughed, trying to keep derision out of my voice, but let me tell you. It was hard.
"Why would you say that, pumpkin?"
"Because. I like you, I like how you look and how you are, and I want to be like you too."
"Like me, how? You know sometimes I don't act right. Sometimes I'm stubborn and I throw tantrums and have bad days and lose patience when I shouldn't. There are things about me that I know you can do better." I wasn't fishing for an ego boost, I was just terribly curious what on earth had brought this up.
"You would never be like that all the times. And I like how you look. I like the kind of clothes you wear and that you look like a grown up." I laughed again, derision-free this time.
"Well, I am a grown up. But you can wear dresses and things now, same as me. You don't have to wait to be a grown up to dress nicely. You always look good in whatever you wear."
"Yeah. But I like how you wear them. And I want to wear them that way when I'm big." I never got a clear idea what she meant by that, so I switched gears.
"Well when you're big, what kind of a person do you want to be?" She was quiet a bit before replying.
"I want to be an actual, real, me kind of person. You know?" I didn't. "I want to be me, only a grown up me. But still Lilah."
Not wanting to lose her identity in the process of getting older and entering the adult world. I hear ya, sister. I've been struggling with my own identity this year. Actually liking who I am, but realizing with chagrin that my body is changing. Not drastically, not even necessarily in ways I dislike, but definitely aging. Maturing. Realizing this with some distress that my partner won't agree that it's a positive or neutral change. Realizing that 7 years into a marriage, relationships sometimes stall out and I'm not sure how to jump start it with the tools I have. Putting on a new outfit that makes me feel confident and stepping out of the bedroom smiling, only to be met with indifference and having to ask later if it met with actual disapproval or he just hadn't noticed. Getting really weary of having spent so many years with opposite schedules, having sacrificed time together to raise a child without daycare and neither of us being good at making each other a priority. Spending a lot of evenings alone and missing my best friend, forging on to figure out who I am without him but liking myself a lot better when complemented by him (not verbally, but emotionally). There was a time I literally unable to sleep without him next to me, to wake me up when I sobbed through the nightmares that came almost every night. I can sleep now. No more nightmares. But I still sleep best with him. It's weird being a feminist whose life is made better in every way by a man. It's weird thriving in a career where I'm respected, happy, a trusted voice, an authority figure, but knowing I never could have gotten to this place without the person who sacrificed and struggled along side me to get me there. It's another balance issue, how to teach Lilah she can do anything without needing a man, but her having grown up watching me do everything with a male partner.
At the end of the conversation, Lilah said she wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. Not a doctor who listened to coughs and things. "They're too hard to inspect. I want to be in charge of skin because I can see what's wrong, I don't have to listen to it. Kid skin. If it's infected, I'll make it better." I told her those are called pediatric dermatologist, and they take a lot of school and math and science to become. After trying the title out a few times, she nodded. "Okay. A dermatologist. I like school, and I already know math. That's what I'll be then."
