Vagina vs. Toodie: When Do I Update My Daughter's Vocabulary?

Vagina.

That’s right -- Vagina. I receive weekly email updates about timely news information. For instance, the past few weeks have detailed the events surrounding the 10-year anniversary of Sept. 11. But last week I was a bit shocked to find the headline: "THE WORD ON EVERYBODY'S LIPS IS 'VAGINA.’"

It’s not that I was offended -- very little offends me. I just found it odd this was ‘timely news information.’

(Music Review) Break Me Out by The Rescues

I've been in love with The Rescues since my husband discovered them this past spring. He bought the cd at Best Buy, forced me to listen to this song, and I was hooked. I must've listened to the cd at least a dozen times in the next week; over and over as I drove the 26 minutes to school in the mornings and the 26 minutes home in the afternoons.

The album is terrific. The group consists of two men, two women, and their harmonies remind me of youth choir -- which made my husband groan when I described it in those terms. They've got a pop-music feel -- which made my brother groan and say, "that's not my type of music."

But I love them. And I particularly love "Break Me Out."

(Book Review) Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein

I took my time with this book, reading a chapter at a time and really soaking it in. With a 4-year-old daughter I felt I owed her -- and myself -- the time. Time to turn the info over and over in my head.

Now I've Gone & Said "Ifs, Ands, or Buts." Who Am I?

We took our 4-year-old daughter to watch our city's local fireworks Monday night. It was her first time to see fireworks and I was almost as excited as she was about sharing such a special moment. I loved fireworks as a child; heck, I still do.

So we arrive at our viewing point, the local community college. We find a spot on the concrete stairs. We'd have preferred the grass but earlier it'd rained just enough. Another family with a little boy was seated a few steps above, and he and Shannon struck up a conversation almost immediately. Within minutes they bonded over their overprotective parents, both of whom kept telling them to stop swinging on the railing. This kept her entertained since we'd arrived about 20 minutes early, which was all well and good. Until I told her she needed to come sit with us since the fireworks were about to start.

To which she replied with an emphatic stomp and a stubborn, "No, Mom. I wanna sit with my friend."

"I Look Terrible in that Picture"

Over the past few days, I've listened to women complain about (among other things): fat thighs, bathing suits, big bellies, saggy breasts, double chins, triple chins, quadruple chins...

And the phrase heard 'round the world: "I look terrible in that picture."

Why do women do this?  You'll never hear a man (or not a straight one, anyway) say, "Look how jiggly my arms look in that shirt." For the love, ladies, we aren't perfect creatures, and we certainly don't look like airbrushed supermodels when posing for snapshots. News flash: we're not supposed to!

Last week I had the chance to visit three of my very best friends. We're spread out across three states, but somehow managed to meet and make a day of it. We took pictures like crazy: at lunch at El Girasol, in front of a gym downtown, and leaning over a fence after feeding horses. We didn't set up a glamour shot session -- we captured the moment, lots of moments, of the wonderful day when we all played hooky and managed a last-minute "play date."

We all snap pictures to capture a moment -- a memory. A grandmother with her great-grandchild; a sister's birthday; a mother with her 3-year-old daughter.

Yes, I'm guilty of it, too. But lately I'm more and more aware of the impression I'm making on my daughter. Right now she loves being in front of the camera -- with a follow-up, "Let me see! Let me see!" squeal after each shot. But every time she hears me or another woman complain about cankles or a belly pooch, she marches one day closer to the moment she, too, says:

"Yuck, I look terrible."

So last week I kept her in mind while we snapped those pictures, all 200 of them. And instead of focusing on whether or not I'd sucked in my gut, I looked to see if my level of happiness (which was off the charts) was reflected back at the camera. It was.

And guess what? I'm satisfied with every single one.

We are constantly bombarded about body image and the effects of the media on our self-esteem, so much so that it's become white noise. But it's never too late to start appreciating ourselves, especially in the meaningful moments we are lucky to capture.

So the next time there's a picture in front of you, for the love of all things pixelated, please think before you look at yourself and mutter the words, "Ugh."

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Affirmation | An Original Poem

i want for you to know Yourself

be Yourself

love Yourself

who cares about your size

your thighs

the lies we tend to tell ourselves

ways we judge ourselves

ways we shame ourselves

and instead

proclaim Yourself incessant

exclaim Yourself insuppressible

don’t hide from the side of Yourself

that you think others don’t want

and instead

decide what matters ―

the You that needs a voice 

the You that has a choice

should arise

aim for the skies

reside among the stars

because You, my friend, are

luminous

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The Wishing Star | An Original Poem

We read about it in one of your beginner books. You 
want to wish on a star and on a whim I rush us
out to the porch. Quick! I say, it's cold and you're in a nightgown.


So we squeeze our eyes shut and you wish to be
an artist and I to write a book. Then we lie in the dark, faces
huddled together like girls at a slumber party.


To be a real artist, you explain, means you have the fancy
hat and a messy apron. Can we buy these 
tomorrow so your wish will come true?


Then I tell you that once upon a time I wished on a star. You 
think about this. Did it come true?
Yes, I answer, touching your nose.


You stare for a long moment, your three-year-old eyes
holding mine, for the first time full
of understanding.

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