Beauty and the Boys: the challenge of raising a "nice guy"

One of my favorite snapshots, taken last spring.  

As I straightened my hair in front of the bathroom mirror, my three-year-old son walked through the door and asked what I was doing. 

"Straightening my hair."  

"Why?"

"To make it look pretty."

The moment the words came out of my mouth, I wished I could have taken them back.  What I really meant is that I like the way I look with my hair straightened, just like I like the way I look with makeup on, or when I wear my favorite clothes.  But it wasn’t what I said.  What my son heard was that my hair would be pretty after I had finished straightening it.

There are days when my hair isn't done, when my makeup isn't on, and days when I’m wearing yoga pants and a worn t-shirt leftover from high school.  Most of the time, I am less than pulled-together.  I only occasionally wear makeup, my hair is almost always thrown into some form of haphazard bun/ponytail thing.  When it’s time to head out the door, my hurried attempts to spruce up my own appearance are often accompanied by negative self-criticism. We parents, and especially mothers, are the lens our children see the world through.  If I am constantly criticizing my own appearance, it doesn't matter how many times I tell them that "everyone is beautiful," or "you’re perfect just the way you are" if I stand in front of the mirror audibly complaining about my hair/love handles/bags under my eyes.  Children are not stupid. They see the hypocrisy (probably better than I can). 

     

I have read a ton of articles on raising strong, confident daughters.  I worry about the social pressures that my daughter will face; I worry that she won't feel pretty enough or smart enough or just plain enough.  But until recently, I hadn't really thought about how all of this affects my son.  The truth of the matter is that he is exposed to cultural ideas of beauty and womanhood and "pretty" just as much as my daughter is.  He's sitting next to her on the couch when they watch Disney princess movies and beside her in the shopping cart when we walk down the girly aisles at Target.  He sees the perfume ads on the backs of my Martha Stewart magazine just like she does.

What makes me even more nervous for my son is that if I don't model and teach what I believe true beauty to be—intelligence, compassion, verve, perseverance, integrity—he has the potential to become part of the same sort of patriarchy that I want so badly for my daughter to discount.  Additionally, it would be naïve to assume boys are never self-conscious of their own appearance.  Too short/tall/fat/ whatever is an issue both boys and girls face.  

  

My question today is not how to raise a strong daughter.  There are scores of articles and essays and lists on this topic already. What I’m after is how to raise a son who respects women and who recognizes the true beauty in others and in himself.  A quick internet search produced some very general lists of answers: teach him that it’s okay to have feelings, positive father involvement, etc.  Some good thoughts, but like I said, very general.  After giving this topic a lot of consideration, I've decided to share some of my own ideas.       

Here's my list for me and The Buster:   

   

1. Sometimes dress up to do ordinary things.  I’m not talking every day, and I’m not talking evening-wear dress-up.  Wear a skirt on a Tuesday to go grocery shopping.  Put on makeup for my turn to host playgroup.  Be comfortable and confident in being feminine. 

2. Sometimes don’t dress up at all.  Wear yoga pants and clean the house together.  Get sweaty and go on a bike ride together.  Let him wear my apron to help make dinner.  Make certain he knows how much I value spending time with him. 

3. In reference to other people’s appearances (and my own), use kind words.  Think before I speak.

        

4. Tell him he’s smart.  Thank him for being kind.  Admire his bravery.  But also tell him the things I love about the way he looks: his red curls, that one-in-a-million freckle that sits dead center on the tip of his nose, how he can make great monster faces, and how much I love his smile.

5. Tell him his sister is smart.  That she is just as smart as he is.   That she can be as brave as he is.   That she is beautiful.  But also tell him that he is lucky to have a sister, and even luckier that she can be his friend.  Encourage him to use kind words.  Agree with him when he says she has “Rapunzel hair” or exclaims “she looks like a princess!” when she wears a hair bow.  Tell him all girls are princesses.  Tell him princesses are smart. 

6. Tell him I am smart.  Help him find answers to his questions when I don’t know instead of telling him to wait and “ask Dad when he gets home from work.”

7. Read together, fiction and non-fiction.  Read some books off of those “raising strong girls” book lists.  Introduce him to female characters that are smart, compassionate, funny, and engaging.  Let him see me reading.     

8. Explain that sometimes people—girls and boys—have a hard time remembering that they are beautiful.  Remind him that we are all the same, all children of God.  Remind him to be kind.

9. Give him lots of hugs and kisses.

10. Tell him every single day that I love him.   

       

What about you?  What would you add to this list?  

         

(No) Thanks for the Recommendation, Netflix!

image via amazon.com

Today, The Buster found a children’s program on Netflix called The Wheels on the Bus and immediately begged to watch it.  As far as I can tell, the premise of the show is to ride around on a bus singing repetitive songs and to foster basic childhood skills (the episode we watched promoted the virtues of getting along, sharing, not procrastinating, washing our hands, and eating healthy snacks).  Sometimes the passengers get off of the bus and the viewers are treated to a video montage of things like insects and parades. 

I’m sure this doesn't sound much different than any other children’s program.  But the thing is that the people on the bus are crazy-weird.  The bus is driven by Roger Daltrey (lead singer of The Who) dressed in a full-body dragon costume.  Or at least the dragon is voiced by Roger Daltrey…it’s likely someone else wearing the actual costume.  Other bus riders include an assortment of mismatched puppets, some people wearing what look like cast-off mascot costumes, and some (mostly) normal people.  The kids are all future music-dance-theater majors, the grown-ups keep on smiling, and there is some guy dressed up like a clown/mime.  Add in some terrible computer animation and some random children appearing as singing, dancing, fairies and you have half an hour of my life that I will never get back.  Naturally, The Buster was riveted to the screen.    

This is where good-mommy-me and I-like-the-arts-me have an internal struggle.  The overall message of The Wheels on the Bus is great.  No one is hitting anyone else.  No one is being called stupid or dumb.  We’re learning about taking turns.  I want to like it, but the part of me that sat through all those theatre, literature, and film classes is threatening to throw a fit.  The lessons are a bit heavy-handed, the production values poor.  I want children’s programming to be smart, funny, and high-quality.  And I want it to be watchable, and not just by The Buster and Miss Meatball.  I want to see what they are watching—is there a new concept that I need to explain or help reinforce?  Or something a character did that I don’t want my kids doing?  We spend a limited amount of time watching TV and I don’t want to spend it watching rubbish.  Or things I find straight-up annoying (Dora the Explorer, I’m looking at you). 

       

Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of great stuff out there.  The PBS line-up is predictably good—where we live Barney is out and Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood is in (thank goodness).  Sesame Street is as fantastic as ever.   And while I still think that the Man in the Yellow Hat is a terrible pet owner (seriously, if Curious George were a human child, DFACS would have stepped in) and that Super Why should stop changing all those stories, I’m grateful for all the quality children’s media options available.  

What are your favorite children’s television programs?  Least favorite?  In addition to the shows mentioned above, we like Kipper, Charlie and Lola, and The Octonauts.   

Bedtime Story Essentials

A couple of months ago, I wrote about going to the public library and was struck by a friend’s comment that “it’s so good to hear you talk about books again.”  While I haven’t ever stopped thinking about books, I definitely don’t share what we’re reading here at Family O often enough.  Since we read so much (too much?), and because I really do love to talk about books and reading, you can expect a lot more posts in this vein.   

Reading together is important.  When we read to young children, they cuddle close to see the pictures, snuggling into our arms and into the magic of a well-told story.  The words and pictures become an integral part of our relationships; my childhood memories of my favorite picture books are recorded in the voices of my parents.   Even now as I read some of these familiar stories aloud, I find myself reading them the same way my mom does…the same inflections, pauses, the same rhythm of the page turns.  Stories connect us.

While I share many stories with my kids throughout the day, bedtime is one of my favorite times for reading together. The following are the five bedtime stories that I consider essential for babies and young toddlers; these are books that both The Buster and Miss Meatball have consistently adored.   An added bonus, they are good enough to engage older children (think 3-6) as well.   

Big Red Barn by Margaret Wise Brown

I know everyone always touts Brown’s Goodnight Moon as the quintessential bedtime story, but  I’m going to go ahead and risk heresy here and say that I like her Big Red Barn waaaaaay better.  The story is simple; we meet a variety of farm animals that, at the story’s end, go to sleep in the big red barn.  The Buster and Miss Meatball love pointing to the illustrations of familiar animals and making animal sounds as we read.  Like Goodnight Moon, the text has a soothing, easy rhythm and simple rhyme.  Unlike Goodnight Moon, it does not have any confusing pages that say “Goodnight nobody.”    

   

Llama Llama Red Pajama by Anna Dewdney

If you haven’t read this book, go out and get it right now.  With its all-too familiar situation (baby llama wants mama to come back upstairs after being tucked in) and catchy rhymes, you will likely find yourself quoting the text.  In fact, you may find yourself quoting the text when you wish you didn’t need to quote the text.  Example:  “Please stop all this llama drama and be patient for your mama!”

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin Jr. & John Archambault

While not strictly a bedtime story, this is the perfect book for the evenings we need to get extra wiggles out before saying goodnight.  My kids love the drum-like rhythm of the text and the bold illustrations of alphabet letters.  A good first introduction to the alphabet, the illustrations show both lower and uppercase letters.      

Goodnight Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann

This may just be the perfect bedtime story.  The premise is simple: a group of zoo animals, aided by a key-stealing gorilla, follow the zookeeper home at bedtime.  The simple text and bright, engaging pictures make for a wonderful read-aloud, allowing room for the reader to add their own dialogue and descriptions.  This is Miss Meatball’s current favorite, which means we read it at least half a dozen times a day.  I’m not sick of it yet.  No, really, I’m not. It’s that good. 

How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight by Jane Yolen  

I like all of the “How do Dinosaurs” series, but How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight is my favorite.  With its illustrations of misbehaving dinosaurs and rhyming text, this book is a big hit with The Buster and Miss Meatball.  What’s not to love about a T-rex puckering up his lips for a goodnight kiss?  Because the dinosaurs do the same things that children do at bedtime, the pictures are full of familiar actions and objects.

How about you?  What bedtime books do you find your family grabbing night after night?         

Tonight, Miss Meatball wouldn't (or couldn't) go to sleep.  

Children that do not go to bed when they are supposed to are one of my pet peeves.  Sometimes it makes me so frustrated I could swear.  Sometimes it makes me so frustrated that I actually swear. 

Tonight was different. When I picked up my screaming baby and she looked at me with her big eyes, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.  

We walked outside in the evening quiet, up one side of the street and then down the other. The stillness was like my favorite Wordsworth sonnet: "It is a beauteous evening, calm and free / The holy time is quiet as a Nun / Breathless with adoration."  I stood on the front lawn, watching the pencil-line of moon brighten until I felt Miss Meatball's tightfisted grip on my t-shirt loosen.  She was asleep.  

Crescent Moon & Treetop by CmdrGravy 

TV Time

Every once and awhile, I'll stumble across a blog post or an article or some real-life mom that champions the benefits of a television-free lifestyle. Don't let the kids watch TV, engage their minds instead! Create craft projects! Read stories! Sing songs! Go outside!

These encounters result in bouts of mom-guilt. I experience a gnawing fear somewhere in my intestines that my children are going to grow up deficient. While kids with good moms are putting on puppet shows and going on nature walks, my wee ones' brains are going to atrophy into some horrible grey sludge and they will never have any friends and they won't go to college and they will probably never get a job. And it will all be because I let them watch TV.

I then vow that there will be No More TV In Our House. We will have one TV-free day, my conscience is soothed, and the next day life returns to normal.

I made it from Monday night all the way to 6:00 this evening with no TV for the kids. In the past three days, we have been to the park, to playgroup, and to the public library. We have read 38 picture books. We sat and watched some construction workers tear up a strip of parking lot with their bulldozer. We have done art projects and educational activities. Quite frankly, I am exhausted. The Buster may feel enriched, but I didn't do the laundry and our dinners have been pretty lack-luster (another PB&J sandwich, anyone?). The living room floor needs to be vacuumed.

The past three days have reminded me that I have no desire to be a fully TV-free home. I need some time to do the laundry and unload the dishwasher in peace. For me, television is a necessary evil. I'm not even sure that I can call it evil. We LOVE Sesame Street and Dinosaur Train at our house. Even so, turning off the TV has prompted me to reevaluate our TV habits. The important thing (for me at least) is to think before I switch on the TV, to ask myself why I am turning it on. Is there a specific program we want to watch? Do I have a specific task to complete that I need the Buster to be entertained during? Or am I just turning it on because I haven't thought of anything else to do? I'm hoping that asking myself these questions will help me find the right balance of what is the "right" amount of TV for us.

What do you think? What are your policies/ideas about TV time?

Cheers.

Sick

In my pre-parenting days, I assumed that if a child is up in the middle of the night screaming, sick, and miserable, the next day the child would want to sleep and take it easy. How little I knew then.

When he is sick, the Buster develops a kind of superpower. He can scream and cry for hours in the middle of the night and still be full of energy the next morning. Extra-energetic, even. The amount of energy he has the morning after a nighttime illness seems to directly correlate to the amount of energy I do not have. Example: I am so tired that I try to feed Miss Meatball without taking the pacifier out of her mouth. The Buster is running laps around the couch, shouting out the names of different animals and begging for a cup of milk.

This energy spike pushes the Buster's ability for mischief into overdrive. In the time it took me to transfer one load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, he had amassed a collection of items including (but not limited to) my hairdryer, one chopstick, the kitchen scissors, a large metal spatula, and a candy thermometer. When he saw me coming, he dove behind the couch cushions, clutching the pair of scissors. "NO! MINES!" he screamed as I removed them from his chubby fist. He is exhausting and I started the day with an energy deficit.

Mercifully, by the evening he is worn out. He cuddles, telling me about his trip to the doctor's office. He reminds me of the important details so that I wouldn't forget that his ear hurt and that he got a sticker. He even suggests that his stuffed rhinoceros should go to the doctor to get his "ouch" fixed. I make a mental note to move the rhino to the top of my mending pile. The Buster gets one more hug, one more kiss, and a lullaby from Mr. O. When all is said and done, we have had better days, but we have also had worse.

Cheers.