Next time, stay for the whole thing...

I need to give you an embarrassing but important update on my last post. My daughter performed a song with her Chinese class at a school assembly, and I was a little annoyed to find that all the girls in her grade level except her were performing a dance in costume in front of the singing group. I wanted her to have her chance to shine, too. Well, I had to leave the assembly early to take my son to his school, and I missed the part where they give out awards. They do it every week, apparently.

And this particular week my daughter won an award! "For being a risk-taker by having the courage in trying new things and singing an entire song with confidence", it says. Almost two weeks after receiving this, I found the certificate in her backpack and had to ask her about it before she would tell me that yes, they called her up to the front and presented her with the award, etc.

So...the teacher did, in fact, have her eye on Esther. And she had her moment to shine. And wouldn't I rather she get recognition for the hard thing she accomplished instead of being chosen for a dance just because she looked cute in the costume? I'm satisfied (for now) and I think I need to take a step back, take a deep breath, and let my daughter make her own way. With mom close behind if needed.

When's It Her Turn?

My daughter is an amazing girl. She is a voracious reader, she has a higher emotional IQ than a lot of adults, she knows how to make me laugh, she loves adventure, she tries new things even if she's scared. She's got a great ear for languages; she's studying Mandarin in school, and she's getting high praise from her teacher for her ability to memorize songs in Chinese. In fact, last week her Chinese class performed two songs at a school assembly in honor of Chinese New Year.  I was so excited to watcher her perform because I saw how proud she was when she memorized the songs, ahead of most of her classmates.

I was also pumped that it was finally going to be her turn to "shine" for a few moments in front of her other classmates. See, there is this culture of achievement at her school that she hasn't figured out how to fit into yet. Most of her classmates either play an instrument, have a sport they're good at, love drama, star in cheerleading routines at school assemblies, or any combination of those. My daughter sees her classmates performing and asks me when it's her turn. It's that heartbreaking tension between wanting to be recognized but being too shy to put yourself out there. I know it well.

So last Friday I was so excited for her to be part of the Chinese New Year performance. Out she came with her class. I got my video camera ready. Then...a blaring music video was projected on a screen behind the kids and drowned out any chance of hearing their voices. And a group of four girls came out front dressed in cheongsam (Chinese traditional dress), dancing and singing into microphones. Camera shot of my daughter was blocked.

Now, I'm not the parent who insists on her kid getting the starring role. I'm not the parent who pushes my kid out front. But I was pretty disappointed that my kid didn't get her chance to be in front. The girls in front are the same girls in the cheerleading and dance performances. Surely they have plenty of opportunity to dance then. Why do they also get to be the main performers in the Chinese class event?! Why does every event have to be fronted by a stage show, anyway? Can't a class perform a song without having to idolize those in the class who want to dance?

I know I sound really judgmental. And I need to be very careful, because I have a lot of envy and resentment from my own school days. As I mentioned before, I always wanted to be the performer, but I was too shy to step up and try out for the parts. I asked my daughter how those girls were chosen. She said her teacher asked them to perform the dance. Now, my daughter was the only third grade girl not dancing in front. Part of me wonders if it's because she didn't look the part--perfect hair, bubbly personality, cute little dancing body.

Maybe that's unfair of me. You might be reading this thinking "Hey, I was the kid who performed. I was a dancer. I was the soloist. I resent the insinuation that I have no talent but won my way on stage by looks." You should resent that. That would be really petty of me. I am all for people getting to showcase their talent.

But here it's often misplaced. Like the other day when I was at the mall and there was an academic pop quiz event happening.  Every time I passed the floor there was another stage act going on. I kept thinking "When do these students get to actually do the quiz?" First someone had to sing "You Raise Me Up", then a boy group had to dance, then a couple did a pop duet, and on and on it went. Kids were missing school for this.

My daughter is having a hard enough time fitting in at school with ADHD. I wish she could be recognized for the things she is able to contribute. But she's not gifted at those "main event" talents that everyone sees and recognizes and thinks are cool.

After a third or fourth meeting with her teachers and counselors about this and other issues, I was gently told that maybe I need to back off and let my daughter find her own way. But I'm afraid she will be pushed aside and swallowed up in the shadow of the performers. But I did ask if she had wanted to be part of the Chinese dance, and she said no because the dances looked too complicated. And honestly, she felt proud of herself for being part of the performance at all. So I will bite my tongue and build her up, and do my best to give her opportunities to prove that she can shine like the best of 'em.

A couple days ago she went to a birthday party at a Laser Tag place. I was so nervous for her; I could just see her doing poorly at laser tag and feeling bad about herself, getting laughed at by the other little commando kids. But I didn't say anything. I described what laser tag is like, and she wanted to give it a try. I took her, dropped her off, and came back three hours later....and was greeted by her beaming face. She had a blast! She was so proud of her score, which was not last place but was certainly down towards the bottom.

I realized then that my eight-year-old daughter is my greatest teacher right now. The challenge for me is to appreciate what I can do and what I enjoy doing without comparing myself to others or measuring the applause I get (or not).

But then we have a morning like this one, where she is crying that she doesn't have any friends at school, that no one lets her play with them, and she doesn't want to go to school. What do I do with that?! I want nothing more than to help her fit in and have friends. But I don't want to her change who she is. Or do I? Is the whole reason she felt bad about herself this morning that I was hard on her for losing focus and not getting ready on time?

Teaching her not to care what others think of her needs to start with getting plenty of affirmation at home. Let this be my wake-up call.

So I apologize--I'm tired this morning, and hungry, dealing with technical difficulties, reeling from a tough morning, and dealing with issues from my childhood that I thought were dead and buried. But there's nothing like raising a child to make you face your past. So if this post turns you off in any way, take it with a grain of salt and show grace. I'm a work in progress. Thankfully, so is my daughter. Her future is not written yet. There may be a place on stage for her yet. And if not, she will light up the shadows. The eyes that matter will see her. As they do each of us.

Please don't expect me to do that...

Last weekend my daughter went to her first birthday party here in the Philippines. I had heard that it is assumed that the entire family will come when a kid is invited, so we all decided to make an afternoon of it. The party was being held at a new hotel that has an amazing swimming pool and water park, so we brought our suits and towels.

The invitation said 2 pm, so we showed up at 1:59.

Upon arriving, we saw a sign for the birthday party...that said it started at 3 pm.

"Must be a mistake", we thought.

Before I go further, let me say that I feel the need to describe this party in detail because I was so fascinated by it--but I don't mean offense. I am in a time of learning and trying to understand the "why" behind the things I don't understand.

So, we head upstairs to the party room. Now, I knew from the invitation that this was a Frozen-themed party. I expected decorations. But nothing prepared me for what I saw when we stepped into the room:

It looked like a wedding reception. And it was clearly not going to start until 3 pm. The only other people there were the staff setting up the room and another American-ish dad with his son. (Though his family was from the US, the man was raised in the Philippines.) We sat together and looked longingly out the windows at the pool area. This was obviously not going to be a swimming party.

But here's what the party did have: vendors handing out French fries, popcorn, tempura, squid balls, and bubble tea, game booths where you could win prizes, a huge table full of toys (where kids could claim prizes during large group games run by an MC dressed as Anna from Frozen), a buffet (which we didn't stay for as we had already been there for hours and our kids had school the next day), a cake made of cupcakes which were all adorned with Frozen characters made entirely of icing, a DJ, and candy sprinkled around the centerpieces at every table.

A couple other kids finally started straggling in around 3 pm, and then the birthday girl came in with her family. Her mother was easy to identify. Her dress was gorgeous (and very shiny), her hair and makeup were immaculate. The birthday girl, turning 9, was harder to find. She was dressed as Elsa (Filipinos dressed as Nordic characters are pretty cute, really) but she was wrapped around her yaya and wouldn't let go for the first hour and a half of the party.

A yaya is a nanny. The relationship between a yaya and the children she cares for can vary from household to household. Here, it was really interesting to watch the mother make her rounds to guests, make sure the microphones were working, and braid her daughter's hair, while her daughter remained attached, literally, to her yaya. The mother told us that her daughter was throwing a tantrum, but to me it looked like a 9-year-old who was overwhelmed by being the center of attention at this very elaborate shindig. But who knows. I actually told my husband that the mm had probably told the girl to make a speech or sing or something. Lo and behold, one of the "surprises" introduced by the MC was that the birthday girl was going to grace us with a song! Her first time singing in front of people!

No wonder she was trying to hide.

Now, I did talk to the mom at several points during the party. During one of those conversations she told me that next year she's planning a Hollywood-themed party. !!  Aside from being ridiculously well-prepared, she struck me as someone who is generous and honestly loves to celebrate. She has four kids, so automatically she gets my respect. I think the birthday girl is her youngest. If I am very honest with myself, if I had the means (and a little less tact) I would probably want to throw a party like this one for my daughter if I thought even for a moment that it would make her feel loved and special. I mean, her name was up there in giant, Frozen letters! There were life-size Frozen figures up there! It could have been a dream come true.

I just wasn't convinced it was this little girl's dream come true.

But, who am I to judge? People had fun at the party, the loot bags and game prizes we came home with were beyond anything I've ever seen (seriously, it was like a second Christmas) and my kids had an amazing time.

Now, I wonder what my daughter is expecting for her party in a few months. You know how it goes at this age. Everything is about comparison and fitting in. and my daughter has really, really been struggling to fit in since we moved here. If I thought throwing this kind of party would help her gain friends and confidence, I think I would do it.

The problem is, I'm being shortsighted. If I did throw that kind of party, I'd be letting fear win over integrity. I'm so afraid my daughter will be teased and unpopular and go down the road of low self-esteem...or worse. But a party won't solve that problem. Young as she is, I need to teach her to be content, to love herself, to be kind, to be strong, to be thankful, and to share her wealth. Will she understand at age 9 that there are better places to distribute money than to spend it on a lavish, fancy party that would make her feel like a princess? It's one of those "she'll understand someday" or "she'll thank you for it later" scenarios.

But I want her to feel special now. (Hmmm...I seem to be channeling Veruca Salt, for some reason. The original Veruca, I mean.)

I won't throw a party that looks like a wedding reception. But I'm open to ideas for a party that celebrates who she is, what she enjoys, and also has the added benefit of giving other kids a really good time to remember her by.

Oh, I forgot one thing. The mom told me she put 2 pm on the invitations because Filipinos always show up so late to everything. I'll know for next time. :)

You're Perfect

Being totally vulnerable here. I have been on anti-depressants for years. As long as I can remember, anxiety and negativity have been my shadows. The meds never quite got me to where I wanted to be, so a couple weeks ago my doctor recommended a new tactic: a mood stabilizer. With bipolar disorder in the family history, I decided to try it. (By the way, the decision to go on meds came after and has been accompanied by years of therapy, prayer, and attempts at lifestyle changes.)

The last week has been a nightmare. Yelling, crying, throwing things, traumatized children, the works. Yesterday, after another yelling match and mild physical tussle with my wonderfully strong-willed daughter (whose life companion is ADHD) and my increasingly assertive son, I started crying and apologizing, yet again. I started into a lengthy explanation of how my brain is not well and I am waiting for my special medicine to start working so I don't get upset so easily, etc.

My daughter stopped, looked at me with a look in her eyes I don't think I've ever seen before, and said "You're perfect."

I looked at her, and I must have had a question in my eyes because she went on: "I mean, sometimes you're not perfect but mostly you look perfect to me."

Take this from my story and others I've written about my children's perspective on my hair loss and life in general: If you're going to listen to anyone and take to heart what any other person says about you, let it be a child. We all know how innocently brutal children can be with their honest perceptions, but even with the flaws they see, they can name perfection when they see it. Their definition of perfection is so different from ours. Maybe I'm generalizing when really my moment with my daughter was unique--but I'm getting the feeling that kids are our best mirrors. Yes, we see the worst in ourselves reflected back through their hurts and shame. But that's something we all have to accept as-is. Because we also see reflected in their eyes a wonder at the capacity for love we all carry. We see a reflection of ourselves at our most carefree, our most dependent, and our most undiluted lovely.

Mommy, you need hair...

Is bald pretty? Can a mommy be bald?

My 7-year-old daughter was playing with her doll collection the other day--a few Disney Princesses, a Skipper and her horse, and a couple Polly Pockets. 

 The dolls were having a party. Naturally, I hinted that I would like to be invited. The response was: "It's just for people who are pretty."  Ouch. "I'm not pretty?", I asked her. "Well, I mean you're not pretty like they are, because they have pink and purple...(voice trailing off)". 

I actually did have pink and purple on. I was in my pajamas, granted, but I had the required colors. 

A few weeks later, my daughter decided to draw a picture of our family sliding down a rainbow. 

I was at the stove, and all of a sudden she asks me, "Do you want me to draw you with or without hair?" Wow. I had never been asked that before! I told her to draw me without hair, since that's really what I look like. She ended up drawing me with hair (I'm up in the top left corner--can you see the curls on either side that look like short arms?) because "otherwise you wouldn't look like a mommy". 

I know my daughter loves me just the way I am and thinks I'm beautiful. She tells me that all the time. I know she meant no offense. But it hurts to hear those things, nonetheless. 

Still, I'm grateful (I think) for opportunities to challenge the "types" and the values we have absorbed from our culture. I'm glad my daughter will have to struggle with this concept of defining feminine beauty. I just hope Barbie doesn't win. 

Humble Artistry

I came across this blog via Facebook, and this post really caught my attention:

"Collaborating with a 4-year-Old"
(http://busymockingbird.com/2013/08/27/collaborating-with-a-4-year-old/)



I love unpretentious art. I recently wandered through a local museum and found myself wondering why some art is considered "masterful", while other pieces may be obviously amateurish. I mean, I have done some things in a sketchbook with watercolor that I thought were really interesting to look at. Not refined, certainly, but interesting. Like this:



I actually do think it's pretty childish when I look at it. But what's wrong with childish art? Art is a window into how the artist views the world. And I'm all for anything that promotes and produces empathy.

So, getting back to this blog post I read, I just loved the writer's confession that sharing a sketchpad with a four-year-old was not easy. I feel the same way when my daughter and I are coloring together, and she suddenly wants to color on my page. I have worked so hard to stay in the lines and have even accomplished some nice shading (hard to do with crayons), and here she comes with her wild, scribbling hand. With neon orange, no less.

But the writer of this post was able to move beyond that initial ownership into co-ownership. And the art that came out of the collaboration is really interesting. Some will love it and see it as innovative and insightful, and others will feel uncomfortable looking at it. I think it's really great. I love that an artist was able to redefine what kind of art was "good" enough to make it into her sketchbook and on her blog.

We should all open those areas of our lives where we want to control the finished product...and let the 4-year-old in. The result will most likely be something you never could have thought of, and it will most definitely be something interesting. And that's really more than we usually get.

Emergence of a Mean Girl?

I am terrified of my daughter becoming a “mean girl”. Her dad and I have blatantly tried to impose our values upon her, ceaselessly providing opportunities and challenges to appreciate beauty from non-traditional sources. This used to work just fine.

Now, at age seven, our voices are not the only ones she takes in. The voices on the playground are, sadly, louder at the moment. I have been watching this transformation in her, from a believer in the Veggie Tales gospel that “God made you special” to an impressionable social seeker rapidly moving toward the lemming-like tween years. I see her trying to reconcile messages she gets from the trusted adults in her life with messages from friends whose approval means everything right now.
I thought I would have a few more years to prepare for this.

But, here we are. Her behavior is very unpredictable at the moment. One day I catch her speaking with openness and affirmation to girls in a park about her mom, who “has alopecia and that’s why she has no hair”, and the next day I find out that she has made hurtful comments to a dear friend about her appearance. One day she is genuinely befriending a girl with severe facial deformities at her school, and the next day she is playing the “that girl’s scary so let’s run up to her, scream, and then run away" game at the same girl’s expense.

It’s hard to know how her sorting out process is going. Which messages will stick with her? Which will define how she acts and views people around her? She has a kind heart, but she is also desperate to be a normal kid with friends who accept her. What is my role right now as a parent? Do I keep trying to impose a set of values on her as a foundation for the choices she will make later in life? Or do I take a deep breath and a few steps back, allowing her to glean her own wisdom as she witnesses the consequences of her own actions?

This little incident with our friend happened just the other night. Apparently, Esther said something hurtful, and then my friend addressed it by explaining that the comment hurt her feelings. Fine. This is to be expected at my daughter’s age, and I’m glad my friend was able to talk about how the comment made her feel and why it’s not appropriate to repeat.

What is absolutely not fine is that my daughter did, in fact, repeat the comment again, immediately after hearing how it had affected this friend. Maybe she was trying to see how far she could push; maybe she was more interested in watching and learning about our friend’s reaction than in the actual content of the messages; or, maybe she really couldn’t really identify with the fact that her comment had hurt this friend, whom she loves.

After hearing about this, I got my “I can’t believe you did this, because I know you are not this kind of girl” face on, and I let her know, without a doubt, that what she said was not okay. If the conversation had ended after the first comment, I would take a different approach—something like sitting down, asking questions, explaining why the comment was not something we would want to say again, etc. The fact that she said it again after our friend talked to her about it is what concerns me. So, after the lecture, the “mommy’s mad” eyes and the finger wagging, I decided I had better engage her in a different way. I want her to know the seriousness of verbal insults, but I also want to make sure she is developing a worldview in line with the ideals of compassion and justice.

So, I made her draw a picture of our friend. I told her to draw this friend exactly how she (my daughter) sees her. Then I asked her to write “(Name) is beautiful”. Drawing on notes I have taken in therapy sessions, I figured a picture would help to make concrete the abstract notion of using words to build people up rather than tear them down. I wanted her to create an image that she labeled as “beautiful”, not only to associate it with our friend, but also to own the feeling of being able to be a definer of beauty instead of just a judge of it.

This journey is just beginning, I know. The years to come will be filled with similar instances of reconciling two different sets of standards. I have hope in the solid foundation we as parents, along with family and community reinforcement, have given our daughter—and our three-year-old son. I must also look on my daughter with as much compassion as I am asking her to show others. And there’s the rub—because having compassion on my daughter’s emergent “mean girl” tendencies, real or imagined, requires me to have more compassion on the corners of my own self/heart wherein lie similar tendencies.

I haven’t decided whether or not to give the picture my daughter drew to my friend. That forced apology thing (“Now, say you’re sorry, and tell her she’s beautiful”) has never sat well with me. I do want my friend to know what I’m working on with my daughter, but I would like to wait until my daughter draws a picture of our beautiful friend without prompting before giving anything to her.

Raising daughters. Raising little women. Lord, help us.