Very Public Exposure

Ainsley and I were in the New York Times Magazine on Friday. It was risky and scary, though important, because the topic was early puberty. TGR Body, our craptastic-ingredient-free skincare line (many skincare products are thought to have toxins that interfere with hormones), and The Girl Revolution were both highlighted.

You know I’ve researched the issue and shared the information here, but I’ve not discussed our personal experience. We considered the decision carefully — Ainsley, myself and her dad — and we felt that discussing it in public would be useful for other parents and girls. And it has been. The writer, Elizabeth Weil, has two girls of similar age to Ainsley and vowed to present us in a positive light, unembarassing, not humiliating. I thank her for keeping her word. I’ve received several emails of support, other parents and girls sharing their own experiences; thank you notes for being brave and helping them understand what’s happening with their daughters; making them feel less alone.

We chose not to have Ainsley’s face appear in the photographs because we couldn’t really determine the consequences of that.

Shame & Causes

I also felt that choosing not to talk about it added some sort of shame to early puberty, as if we had done something wrong to, as you hear constantly “allow girls to grow up too fast.” Well, we’re not ashamed and we shouldn’t be. We didn’t do anything to cause it. We didn’t neglect to do anything that caused it. We didn’t do a damn thing to “make our girls grow up too fast.”

It might be the hormones in meat and milk, it might be pesticides, it might be flame retardants, it might be the plastic Playtex insert baby bottles we microwaved when she was a baby, it might be eating more protein than our ancestors, it could be anything. Or it’s possible that it is none of these things.

It might even be evolution in action right before our very eyes. The world is on fast forward with our explosion of technology, maybe evolutionarily there is a very important reason for developing faster as a species that we simply don’t understand yet. Everything is happening faster for them, we expect more of them. Ainsley is already doing math that we weren’t expected to know until the 7th grade. They blog and learn PowerPoint in elementary school. These girls have not become adults and while we may be afraid of the consequences of early puberty, we don’t know the outcome yet. It’s not only happening to girls, it’s happening to boys as well. It’s not happening only in the United States where many of the suspected causes are more prevalent, it’s happening all over the world (Hindustan Times article). It’s at least possible that it is not harmful, but helpful in some way.

Either way, it is what it is, we’re not likely to stop it, at least not before this crop of girls develop into teenagers. The only thing to do is accept it, and dare I say, even embrace it.

New Developments

Since last year Ainsley has continued to mature. But, it hasn’t been as emotionally or developmentally disastrous as I had feared. In fact, the girls in her class discuss their “stages of development” very openly. They trust The Care and Keeping of You by American Girl as the Bible of Puberty. As it turns out Ainsley is #7 out of 10, not # 1, in getting a bra in her 4th grade class. It was one of the best days of her life. Getting a bra is a badge of honor with the girls debating the best colors to get (tan) and the best places to buy them (Target). Girls appear to be discussing their developmental stages openly with their parents (someone had to buy them a bra). They shave their armpits, and sometimes legs, as a matter of course and are even excited about it.

Juxtapose this to the many stories you hear from women about their first menses: no one told me it was coming and I thought I was dying; I didn’t tell my mom for three days; she saw the laundry and finally explained it to me; it felt shameful to me and no one ever talked about it; my mother called it a curse and told me it would be horrible; etc. You’ve heard the stories and maybe it’s your story. Things feel different now. Parents who went through those experiences and didn’t enjoy them are communicating with their daughters about the experience of development and puberty. Girls, in general, know about and don’t fear their periods or getting breasts. Rather than weird clinical books with bizarre diagrams, they are given fun books like The Care and Keeping of You, replacing Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret (we must, we must, we must increase our bust!).

Sacred & Powerful Gift

If you’ve ever read The Red Tent, (and if you haven’t you should) you know that once upon a time, for thousands of years, a woman’s first menses was a celebratory and sacred, holy, exciting event. Women held rituals to initiate a woman in her various stages of development — from menses to birth to menopause — Girl, Maiden, Mother, Crone. I’d like to see that tradition resurrected. As I mentioned in New York Times Magazine I do intend to throw a party. Even if it’s just a party of her and I — a nice dinner and the Chocolate Cafe and maybe a piece of commemorative jewelry. Or a women’s circle ritual with our girlfriends at my friend Anna’s Women’s Sacred Way studio. I’m all prepared for her first period with a Red Goddess Celebration Box, filled with essential oils, eye pillows, letters from her grandmothers, etc. I have panty liners stashed away, just in case. I’d like to share an experience different from a tampon or douche commercial. I’d love to share an experience of menstruation as a sacred gift able to produce life, a source of power. (For more on the power of our cycles read Red Moon and The Optimized Woman: If You Want to Get Ahead Get a Cycle.) When I go to the bathroom to cry, it will likely be bitter-sweet, a mixture of joy and of saying good-bye to the baby stages of my little girl —  knowing that precious, tender time will vanish from our lives forever. I imagine that’s what mothers have done for eons.

Puberty, whenever it comes, is not tragic. It’s a life-giving, sacred and exciting gift. Women have been having periods and growing breasts since the dawn of time, and we’ll keep on doing it until the end of time. We’ve lived, flourished and nurtured ourselves at varying degrees during different phases of history. Now is the time for a rebirth of our own sacred traditions. It’s time to heal the Sacred Feminine.

Share and Enjoy

Here’s the scene: Grandma and Grandpa have come to visit. We’re sitting around the dinner table.

“Was my Mom a good teenager or a bad teenager?” Ainsley asked with a bit of a mischievous look in her eye.

Pause. Forks in the air.

My parents and I laugh.

“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it will incriminate . . . ————> HER!” my dad said, pointing at me.

“Come on tell me,” Ainsley implored.

“Is she a good Mom?” my Mom asked.

“What?” Ainsley asked.

“Is she a good Mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s what matters,” my mom said chuckling.

“I bet she was a bad teenager,” Ainsley quipped.

“Let’s just say, if pay back is a real thing then LOOK OUT!” my dad warned Ainsley.

God, if you’re out there surfing the Internet, please, please please give Ainsley an easier, smoother and more loving adolescent experience than my poor family suffered through.

Share and Enjoy

One of the things I like least about being a parent is being unable to accurately predict how my children will feel about my decisions or parenting style in the future.

If I behave this way _____, they will behave this way _____.

If I don’t do this ______, they will feel this __________.

I find myself attempting to change or alter my first-instincts on parenting or over-thinking my parenting decisions based on how my children might feel later as teenagers or adults.

This appears to make sense.

Until I really get that there is no determining how people will feel in the future. There is a whole rainbow of feeling flavors to choose from in every situation, depending on temperament, mood, influences and let’s face it: choices.

My kids get to choose how they feel about my parenting. They can even change their minds mid-way through and decide that something they have been fine with previously, now sucks for them. They can re-alter history, as children have been known to do, and pull out my parenting decisions later so as to use them against me as evidence of my flawed parenting technique. I know, I did this to my parents, my mother especially.

No amount of over-thinking or mind-changing or future-predicting can save me from this.

It might be the biggest bummer in parenting.

Some examples: I try to get my children to watch what they eat and exercise so they can have healthy bodies. While walking the tightrope of body image and trying to control whether they feel good or bad about their bodies. If I put too much pressure on this I worry my daughter might feel like I don’t think she’s good enough or beautiful, but if I put too little pressure on this, I worry that she’ll later feel like I was a bad mom for not teaching her the proper ways to eat and exercise.

The reality, of course, is that I can only put some good opportunities (I nearly said “the right opportunities”) out there for her, but ultimately how she chooses to feel about her body is her responsibility.

I will sometimes re-examine my parenting decisions in “light” of “how she might feel about it someday.” Which is really dumb, because I can barely predict how I might feel about something someday. Sometimes I can barely muddle through feelings I’ve already had in the past. Also, as I grow older and learn the art of forgiveness and letting go, I understand that feelings change over time and they’ve always been my choice.

I certainly can’t predict how another person will choose to interpret their experience. Will they use it as a building block for a foundation of future resentments or achievements?

I know this to be true. I know that I can only make the best parenting decisions right now, based on current circumstances and I should trust my gut. But, I forget sometimes and try to bring out my emotional crystal ball and then let it dictate for me what the right parenting choice is.

Am I alone?

Share and Enjoy

I’ve had the pleasure of being invited to a book club of truly creative, inspiring, interesting and strong women. Several of the members write and publish a new magazine – get born. It’s a bold, brave, creative look at mothering. Not just the “oh how sweet” parts, though there is that, but the parts you didn’t know were going to happen or the parts that make you a little ashamed of yourself for feeling.

I was touched by the below piece, printed with permission from the editor Heather Janssen, because I could relate so well to Carol Lang’s daughter’s habit of talking back “as if  my equal.” It begs the question, “Is this inevitable, no matter how frustrating and painful, if one is intent on raising a strong daughter? As opposed to the former, girls should be passive and docile and keep their opinions to themselves or just not have any strong opinions at all? Is this a natural progression in the mother-daughter relationship, if we want them to grow up willing and able to express themselves boldly? If so, how on earth are we, as their mothers, supposed to handle it internally?  Because really, sometimes it just sucks to be on the receiving end of it.”

get born is a magazine that deserves to thrive. To do that, it needs subscribers. At only 16.95 a year, for four issues, it’s a great bargain to open the pages and have the divine pleasure of knowing, “Thank God, I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way.”

The Impostor Mother

by Carol Lang

When I was a kid, I didn’t play house. I didn’t play with dolls.  I played kick-ball and climbed trees. I chased boys, rode my bike and roller-skated all over the neighborhood.

I was a Girl Scout, but did poorly in all things “traditionally domestic.”  My mom gave up after a while.

When I was older, I did babysit. The money was awesome and the time with kids short. I didn’t dislike the kids but mostly I liked staying up late and watching Saturday Night Live.

I went to college, studied math, computers, chemistry. Drank too much but got good grades. I met a boy.

Got a husband, and a career with lots of promise.

Husband said he knew I would want a family some day and he was comfortable, and confident, to wait.

I got pregnant. I cried. Husband celebrated. I pretended I wasn’t pregnant, most of the time.

I really wanted to keep working. I knew that was wrong. I planned a long maternity leave.

I became a mother. I wasn’t prepared. I had absolutely no freaking idea what I was supposed to do with the amazing miracle my body had created. So precious. So fragile. A piece of my heart outside of my body (Elizabeth Stone).

I read. I read a lot. Good mothers are smart mothers, well educated mothers.   I spent money — on the “right” toys, “right” foods, “right” products, “right” activities.

All my mother friends seem so confident, so on top of things.  Their babies so perfect. Perfectly wonderful, or perfectly horrible. Mine just are.  We mothers play a game. It’s competitive, ruthless. I am uncertain of  the rules but I play.  A game of extremes:  best or worst; smartest or dumbest; strongest or weakest.  No average. No middle. I compete, fiercely. I only lose.

Along came Baby #2. And, #3.

What am I thinking? There’s no way I can handle all this. What made me think I could serve, protect, love three priceless, precious beings?

Babies are getting bigger, older. Challenges are growing, too. I feel pressure to find solutions.  I keep going.

I get promoted. And, promoted again. I am surprised this is happening. I am scared all the time. I wonder a lot about priorities.

I can organize. I can plan. I am over-protective, control-freaked, and obsessive about every detail.  Babies are active, and involved in many activities, maybe too many, maybe not enough. I can feel things start to unravel, but I must keep going. I must keep them going. Good foods, family dinners, homework in on time, to bed on time, clean bodies and clean clothes. And, myself, I must smile – stay calm, relaxed. My heart pounds out of my chest. I hope no one will see.

I am faking it. Every day I fail to meet the measure, meet the expectations.

I hate you, mom. You’re a bitch. Leave me alone.

Quiet, shhhh – someone will hear you and I’ll be found out.

My oldest son fails geometry.

My younger son lies, a lot.

My daughter is full of sass, rebellious and recalcitrant. She talks back as if my equal.

The paint is coming off the walls and there are more weeds in the gardens than flowers.

I look over my shoulder.  I worry I will be exposed, the imposter mother.   I fear for my babies.  Am I good enough for them?

Subscribe to get born.

Share and Enjoy

Complaining became a big problem in our house when . . . well, since I moved into it.

But, I tried to resolve the issue with the Complaint Free World Bracelet. Which brought to light the fact that nearly every word out of my mouth is a complaint. Certainly nearly every blog is somehow a complaint. We’re too fat. TV and movies are too sexual and violent. Disney Princess Movies aren’t even written by any women – at all, like not even one woman on the writing staff. Sexual predators are stalking children online. Kate Moss must have malfunctioning taste buds. I want to publish a book, but I’m to broke and scared what you’ll think and say about it. Incessant complaining, really. I’m working on it. God is working on it for me.

Do you know what the most annoying thing you can do to a habitual complainer like myself is?

Get a 7- or 8-year-old to follow them around incessantly complaining. For about a year-and-a-half.

I decided to Woman Up and Parent. Oh the hypocrisy of complaining about her complaining was bothering me, sure.

But, hey! I’m the Mom and she’s the kid and seriously, I’m can’t stand to listen to it anymore. So here’s the deal, I told her,

“For every complaint, you’re giving me a quarter. Every time you complain you’re ruining your own life a little. Also, you’re ruining mine. ”

In the first 24 hours she paid me $10.25. That’s over 40 complaints in 24 hrs. and I let a few slide because they were legitimate things I needed to know like Mommy, I stepped on a thumb tack yesterday and now my foot is throbbing and red.

I told her she can earn the money back by not complaining for one single day.

Any better ideas? All are welcome.

Share and Enjoy