I read an article a few days ago about a woman who doesn’t like her child.  I would cite the author but it was anonymous due to the content.

Her daughter was not what she expected.  The mom thought she would have the fat, rosy cheeked baby of the movies that laughed easily and smiled at strangers.  But that’s not what she got.  She was born small and frail and didn’t breastfeed well.  She cried and as she grew she made odd noises and didn’t move like other kids her age.

The mom looked to doctor after doctor to find out what was wrong with her daughter.  They all said she was a normal and healthy little girl.  But that wasn’t good enough, her daughter wasn’t right and the mom wanted to find a reason, any reason, why.

If she had a diagnosis of something she could explain away her child’s odd habits.  Her fears.  Her mannerisms that irritated her mother.

The little girl’s daddy got along with her just fine, beautifully even.  He spoke quietly when noise was overwhelming to her little ears and played in shadows when the light was too bright.  He celebrated her differences and played the way the little girl wanted to play.

The mother wanted the girl to play her way.  The way she imagined playing with her daughter.

When the little girl was afraid she would bypass her mom and go to her dad; he would hold her and tell her she was safe and sound, that he was there for her and that they would figure out the fear together.

The mom would just tell her to stop being afraid.  Just get over it. Just DO it.

I have tried to find a connection to this story, in myself.  I have waited to write this because I have been searching internally for my answer: what did I, and what do I, expect of my children?

I can honestly say that I didn’t imagine traits when I pictured my future kids.  I hoped for healthy, but we all do that.  I imagined situations; painting with my daughter like I did with my mom or helping her learn how to hold a golf club.  But the activities were always interchangeable, it didn’t matter what we were doing, I was imagining the feeling of doing something with my child.

I imagined soft skin, because both Chris and I have really soft skin.  I imagined that one of my kids would have green eyes like me.  I pictured wild curls like mine on one of them.  But I never assigned them personalities.

I just knew I would love being their mommy.

Is your child what you expected them to be?  Is your daughter funny and smart like you had dreamed or is she quiet and intuitive?  Is one a failure and one a success?

I understand what this woman was writing about, I disagree with the way she dealt with it with every cell in my body.  But I can see and sympathize with her struggle.

Her story goes on to say how she had another daughter that was everything she had wanted and imagined.  It validated her that she hadn’t done something wrong with her first born.  It wasn’t until she was sitting with her friend watching their children play when she was critical of her older daughter, again, and her friend called her out on it.

She told her that her job as a mother is to love her child for who she is.  To comfort her fears and make her feel good in her own skin. All she could see was what the girl wasn’t and never celebrated what she was.  She was supposed to be the safety zone.  And she was failing her daughter.

I agree completely.

It was a wake up call for the mom and she started to try for the first time to appreciate her child for who she was.  And it slowly made an impact on both of their lives.

This has been a very long post but I want to leave you with the most important parenting message I have, the core of what I believe every parent should be:

How you speak to your child will stay emblazened on their hearts forever.

The way you respond to their fears, their dreams, their quirks and their mannerisms sets the groundwork for how they will feel about themselves for the rest of their lives.  The next time you criticize your kid for doing something wrong ask yourself, “have I taken the time to teach him this, really teach this? Or do I just expect him to KNOW?”

The next time you yell at your child close your eyes and imagine how she sees you from her viewpoint.  Look up at yourself and imagine what she feels about you as you hover over her and scream, criticize, yell or tell her how bad she is.  Is that the way you want to be remembered?

Take a minute and think about what you are showing your child – how to behave, how to react, how accepted they are in their own parent’s hearts.

Is your child enough?  Or is it not what you expected.

“There’s a laundry list of things no one ever tells you when you have children. One of them is that your child will teach you how to be the parent they need — if you’re willing to listen.”

-anonymous writer after learning how to appreciate her child.

Be willing to listen.

I have days that I don’t like what I see.

Yup, Captain “Feel Good About Yourself” has bad body days.  Sometimes I’m not super happy with how my skin is looking at the grand ol’ age of 34.  Every once in a while I have a bad hair day.

I know it’s normal and that it happens to everyone.  I know in reality that I work hard on health and fitness and that when I look at myself in the mirror in the middle of yoga class I love and appreciate every single muscle that I have.  I appreciate that the line between my eyebrows has nothing to do with age and appeared long before I can remember because my face is so expressive and open.  I appreciate that my calves are carbon copies of my dad’s, even down to the bump on the back that no one else has but us.

But sometimes I look in the mirror when I put on shorts and I hear Travis’ voice in the high school cafeteria telling me I had man legs and that no girl should have muscles.

Still, at 34 years old I hear his voice telling me that how I look isn’t right.

When we found out I was pregnant with a girl one of the things we talked about as she lodged her little feet into my ribs was that we were going to raise her with confidence.  We were going to raise her to know that what she looks like, who she is, how she acts – it is all exactly how she should be.  And we have.  From day one we have taught her self awareness and self acceptance.  We have taught her that what someone looks like has no bearing on who they are.  And we impress upon her that kindness is always the answer, that we never know the story behind someones actions.  She knows, at seven years old, that when someone is unkind it is about them and not about her.

When Travis told me I was too muscular it was about him, not about me.

But it is so hard to make myself believe that some days.

99% of the time I don’t think about it.  I am strong and healthy and look better at 34 than I did in college.  I can do difficult yoga poses without breaking a sweat (I mean, I break a sweat, but its hot in there man) I can keep up with two active, rambunctious monkey children that keep me moving ALL DAY LONG.

How do I find balance in teaching my daughter to hold herself above the standards of others while struggling with the lesson myself?

Well, I don’t ever let her hear me disparage myself.  She only hears positive, loving messages.  I try not to let ME hear me disparage myself.  And I tell my sweet and loving husband that I am having confidence issues today and he says,

“You look better than you have ever looked.  You look strong and healthy and amazing.”

And then I love him even more.

I am not perfect in the eyes of everyone else in the world.  I don’t have super long, pin thin legs.  But I have two legs.  My legs can pedal a bike for miles while pulling 80 pounds of kids behind me on a trailer.  My arms can pick up and cuddle both kids, 2 and 7, without straining.

So to all the Travis-es of the world, please teach your children to be kind with their words because words are very sticky.  They adhere to the inside of someones heart and stay there, no matter how hard you try to peel them away.  I will continue to teach my children that what they think of themselves is much more important than what other people see.  I will continue to teach them that what they say matters, positive and negative.

And I will close my eyes and focus on what is great about me, and that I am proud to resemble my dad in any way I can.  I am enough just the way I am.