The Invaluable Gift Of Self- Defense

    Have you ever been singing a song and then it came on the radio?  Have you ever been talking about someone and then they called, or ran into them, you know "speak of the devil"?  I had that today.  Last night I was really thinking about my high-school science teacher, Mr. Berry.  Mr. Berry not only taught me science, he taught a bunch of us girls self defense.  I think we all stayed after school.  It was a fun time with my friends.  Mr. Berry had a black belt in Karate and taught us how to maximize our strength when fighting off an attacker, how to use common objects to protect ourselves, he taught us how to survive.  I mention the first few sentences of this paragraph, because it was like that.  Last night I had been really thinking about Mr. Berry and the self defense classes.   I don't mean just thinking, I mean really putting him in my mind and throwing out gratitude to him, I don't even know what brought him to my mind. This morning I saw him at the mall.  He looked the same, maybe a little thinner, a little older, but the same.  I wanted to stop him, to thank him, but I had my kids, he was with his wife, he looked like he was in a hurry.  After he had walked past me, I kicked myself for not being brave enough.  This was the first time I had seen Mr. Berry since high school, and just when I had been thinking about him, and I could not make myself stop him and thank him.  How do you stop someone who would have no idea who you are, when he is with his wife, when I have my children with me?  How do I stop him and thank him for giving me the tools to stop my own sexual assault more than twenty years ago?

    It was the summer before I was going off to university.  I was working at our local convenience store. I worked with a great bunch of people and still talk to a lot of them.  We had a great camaraderie.  Depending on who I worked with I was guaranteed to be in hysterics most of the shift.  We would all laugh about the customers that we had to deal with, most of them were a really great bunch of people.  There was one shift that changed my life forever, but also greatly empowered me.
    I was working until close with a guy I knew liked me, I also knew it was not a good "like".  I knew, there was some reason that I should not work close with him, that tickling fear in the back of my brain, that fear that seems unfounded, but often saves lives.  I tried frantically to get the other guy we were working with to switch shifts with me.  That little voice inside my head was screaming her head off, she knew that something bad was going to happen, something VERY bad.  I was almost in tears as I begged him to switch, "No way, I've got a party to got to."  All night it was like walking on egg shells, feeling sick, waiting.  I knew it was not an if, it was a when, I could see the way he was looking at me.  That voice inside my head kept shouting "just run".  I did not run, but worked until the end of my shift.  The front door was locked, the lights, turned off.
    He was bigger than me, stronger than me.  He followed me into the office where I had gone to start the security camera.  He followed me, blocking me in with his body, touching me where he had no permission to touch.  He had an intent that was not consensual and he thought that because he was so much bigger than me, so much stronger than me, that there was nothing that I could do, but to submit.  He learned a very valuable lesson that day, a lesson that cost him broken bones.  My mind became calm in that moment.  All of the panic I had felt until that moment, vanished.  There was only calm.  My body worked independently, remembering everything it had been taught.  His face was just behind my head, breathing rapidly, I expect he had different ideas than I as to what would come next.  I believe it took him quite by surprise as I smashed the back of my head into his face.  As he was reeling from the pain and shouting "You broke my nose!", I held my fist tightly and I used it to help bring power to my other arm, just as Mr. Berry had taught us those few years ago.  My powerful elbow made magnificent contact with his ribs, causing him to drop like a pound of bricks to the floor writhing in agony.  I calmly turned around, and walked over his writhing body, and did not look back.  I walked calmly and briskly to my car, and then drove away.
    At first I was rattled.  Someone had just tried to sexually assault me.  Then the beautiful realization whisped up, gradually, slowly like a thick smoke.  He had "tried", I had stopped him.  No knight in shining armor needed to rescue me, he could just go ahead and find a damsel in distress, I could save myself.  It was terrifying to think that anyone would try to take what was not theirs to take, but it was empowering to know that I had felled someone twice my size.
    I sit here wondering now, do I publish this?  Is it too graphic, not family friendly enough?  Have I crossed that line where I share just too much of myself?  It probably is, and yet there have been too many strange coincidences surrounding this event the last two days.  I feel almost compelled to share this, just as I feel compelled to sit tomorrow and much belatedly write Mr. Berry a card thanking him for those amazing skills that he taught me.  It's funny, "It's A Wonderful Life" is my all time favourite movie.  It shows how much one life can touch so many, and that one life has no idea the difference that he/ she has made in the lives of others.  I wonder just how many women Mr. Berry saved?  I sit here writing this feeling great gratitude.  I feel gratitude for the skill I was given, and gratitude for the empowerment that terrible experience gave me, that has stayed with me like an invisible tattoo all of these years.
    So here I sit, still wondering, do I share?  Then I looked up the statistics....

Sexual Assault Statistics in Canada
Statistics disprove numerous common misconceptions about rape and sexual assault. While many people believe sexual assault is a rare crime that usually happens between strangers in a dark alley, in reality only a tiny percentage of cases fit this description. See below for some other important and interesting stats.

A Statistical Representation of the Truth

• Of every 100 incidents of sexual assault, only 6 are reported to the police
• 1 - 2% of "date rape" sexual assaults are reported to the police
• 1 in 4 North American women will be sexually assaulted during their lifetime
• 11% of women have physical injury resulting for sexual assault
• Only 2 - 4% of all sexual assaults reported are false reports
• About 50% of sex assaults occur on dates
• 60% of sexual abuse/assault victims are under the age of 17
• over 80% of sex crime victims are women
• 80% of sexual assault incidents occur in the home
• 17% of girls under 16 have experienced some form of incest
• 83% of disabled women will be sexual assaulted during their lifetime
• 15% of sexual assault victims are boys under 16
• half of all sexual offenders are married or in long term relationships
• 57% of aboriginal women have been sexually abused
• 1/5th of all sexual assaults involve a weapon of some sort
• 80% of assailants are friends and family of the victim
• 63% of victims suffer physical harm
• 9% of victims are disfigured from the attack

borrowed from sexassault.ca

I feel compelled to share, maybe I will encourage more women to take self-defense classes, maybe I will encourage more parents to seek out self-defense classes for their children.  I'm going to see if I can enroll Grace in a class.  I hate to think of anyone hurting any of my children, the thought is nightmarish.  I hate to think about the need to enroll my children in a self defense class, but the alternative, is unthinkable.  I think what if I had not had that class?  I really don't think I could have fought off a 200 pound man who was over 6 feet with my then 5 foot 5, 115 pound frame, not without the tools I had.

    I know that Mr. Berry forever impacted my life with his teachings.  I would also like to think that Mr. Berry saved other women.  I like to think that my attacker never again touched another women without consent, and when he thought about inappropriate nonconsensual thoughts with another woman his face and ribs would ache with just the thought.  I guess that makes up my mind, I'm sharing.

Our Special Girl's Night Out - Making Earrings

    Having 4 children is a blessing.  There are times when people ask what it is like to have a large family.  I always give them this blank stare, because I don't feel like we have a large family, and yet I know that it is.  In our house it is never quiet.  Someone is always singing, laughing, shouting and / crying, and sometimes all at the same time.  Loneliness is a word that I am not acquainted with.  There are times that I would like to feel lonely, just for a few minutes (during my bubble bath for example).  Having said all of this, there is also very little time for one on one attention.  Everything must be shared, like it or not, this includes Mommy and Daddy's attention.  There is just not enough time in the day for "one" person, and this includes me.  If we want to have one on one time, we have to really carve it out.

    Our library, The Tweed Public Library  www.tweedlibrary.ca has been offering some wonderful classes to the children in our community.  There have been art lessons, sewing lessons, knitting, crochet, dance and my girls favourite the beading class.  Cindy Crowson from Bead Girl has been coming to Tweed to teach beading.  Riley loves it!  She looks forward all week to Wednesday nights.  Because of scheduling (that means overlapping children's schedules) Grace has only been able to do one class.  The girls love it so much that I decided maybe we could do something special, just the big girls.  I made invitations and they each handed them to friends inviting them and their moms to a "Make and Take Christmas earring making party".  It would be real quality time with my big girls.

    We rented the library's meeting room.  In the end there was just a small intimate group of us (8).

It was a beautiful evening.  It was just so nice.  It was quiet, with the occasional giggle from the girls.  I have to admit that I love the sound of their girly giggles.  All of the girls were beautifully behaved and so polite, it was like heaven.  

    We made 7 sets of earrings.  Cindy would stand at the top of the table and give us a step by step on how to make them.  She would then walk around and help anyone who was having trouble.  I'm sure that my Mom and Glenda were getting tired of me uttering with a happy sigh " Oh this is just so nice."  It really was just so nice.  It was nice to take a break from high fevers, puking kids, and life's responsibilities.  It was nice to watch such simple little things like beads, come together to make something that is beautiful.  It was nice to spend quality time with my big girls and their big girl friends.  It was nice to spend time with my Mom and to spend time with my friend, it was just nice (could I say "nice" anymore times).  I guess that the word "nice" to me if we were doing word association means "calm".  Calm is something that I don't get as much as I would like.

    When we got home, the girls were so excited to show Daddy their treasures that they had made.  I will admit, the earrings were beautiful.  Honestly the earrings look like something that you would buy in an upscale boutique.  I acted cool about it, but really I wanted to push the girls out of the way to show Christopher my own treasures.  I just could not believe that I had made such beautiful things with my own hands.

    The idea behind us doing the earrings was to spend time together, but also for them to make gifts.  They would be giving their teachers earrings that they had made themselves.  The problem is that the girls LOVE all of the earrings that they made, and apparently do not want to part with any of them.  They looked hurt when I reminded them "that" was the whole idea behind our evening.  "But they are too pretty to give away!" an affronted Riley gasped.  I guess that we will just have to see who can part with their treasures.

    So the end of the story, we had a really wonderful night, grown-ups included.  I think the general consensus is that we need to do this again after Christmas.  I think this time we may travel to Cindy's shop, although that could be expensive (I think I'm addicted to jewelry making).  It was a nice way to spend creatively, with nice girls, and their nice Moms.  

    If you are as impressed as I am with the earrings and want to buy the kits, then visit www.beadgirlonline.com

Raising Kids With Good Self-Esteem

    I was speaking to a friend yesterday.  She was letting off some steam, venting about her daughter's lack of self-esteem.  "We encourage her, we do everything that we know how to do, but she doesn't think that she's good enough."  I wished that I had the magic answer for her, but I don't.  I guess that the best that you can do, is well, the best that you can do.
    Growing up I never felt like I was pretty enough, thin enough, or that I was good enough.  This chronic lack of self esteem led me to make decisions that I would have never made if I'd had great self-esteem.  I come from a long line of women with poor self-esteem.  I am bound and determined to break this cycle.  I think that the first step in breaking the cycle is to learn to accept myself.  It has taken me a good many, many years, but I am o.k. with me now.  Could I loose some weight?  Oh you bet.  Does it make me feel badly about myself that I am overweight?  Not really.  I have a husband who loves me for the me inside, it's hard to do much better than that.  I feel like I no longer need outside validation to be alright with me.  I sure hope that I have figured out part of the puzzle.
   From the time my kids were born I have told them how beautiful they are, are smart they are, how loved they are.  I wanted my children to be bathed in love and admiration.  This to me at the time seemed like the perfect way to give them self-esteem, I would force feed it to them.  I have come to discover that although done with the best of intent, perhaps my methods are flawed.  I was force feeding them self-esteem externally, depriving them from discovering it and growing it themselves.
    If you ask my girls who is the prettiest girl in the class they will tell you without missing a beat that it is them.  Perhaps they are too confident.  I have tried now to back off a little on the force feeding, but that too has back fired.  My kids need to be praised.  If they ask if I like something that they have done, they expect me to tell them that it is the best thing that I have ever in my whole life seen.  If I tell them that they did a great job, but I think that they could do better if they tried just a little harder, you would think that I had told them I hated them.  I have created praise junkies.
    I guess that it is back to the drawing board.  My new approach is to still bath them in love, but to encourage their own growth of self-esteem.  I am trying not to "over praise", but also to not be overly critical.   I am trying to model good self-esteem, and I hope that helps too.  I'll let you know how this new approach of mine is working in 20 years or so.  Man this parenting thing is hard.

Finding Their Guardian Angels - The Magic of Little Girls

 
    The two big girls came home so excited to show me this "cool" thing that they learned at school yesterday.    Apparently they had both learned it at recess.  The funny thing is that they both go to different schools.
"Oh it's so cool."  They squealed.  "Can we show you?"  Like I had any choice?  So they fought for a few minutes to decide to show me who would help who (lately all my kids do is fight, maybe there's something in the air).
    I sat there, watching the two of them with a combined effort to keep the puzzled look off of my face, and to stop from bursting out with giggles.  So they stand face to face, and one announces (don't quote me on this one) "We want to see if you have your guardian angel with you."  She then says to count to 20 with your eyes closed and then stomp your foot.  She then took her sister's hands and did this weird flapping thing in front of her, and then it was count to 10 and stomp your foot.  When all of the little tasks were done the Guardian Angel was then implored to show herself by lifting the other's arms.
    I admit I got a kick out of the whole thing.  At no point did I expect either of their arms to magically float up, but I enjoyed the sheer "girlishness" of it.  It is such a typically little girl game to play.  I loved watching them interact with each other.  I loved the hint of magic that they both felt, you could see the excitement of it on their faces.  It feels like magic to me just seeing them look for magic in their world.  That is the beauty of childhood, that exploring their world, but looking for the fantastic as well as the ordinary.  Maybe we should all try, even just sometimes allow ourselves to be carried away by the possibilities of  "What if".

The Birds and the Bees Talk..... ugggg

Tweens, that tough time between little girl and teen.

    I always told myself that I would be the cool parent.  I would tell my kids like it is.  When they were old enough for such things, I would supply them with condoms.  I thought all of this nonsense before I had children.  It turns out I am not the cool Mom, not by a long shot!  I would really like to run away far and fast.  I don't want to touch this subject with a ten foot pole.  It's embarrassing.

    Here's the thing, I know that the more relaxed I am about sexuality, the less likely I will become a grandmother before I am good and ready.  In Sweden, a country that is very sexually liberated there is barely a teen pregnancy.  Are Swedish kids not having sex?  No, I'm pretty sure that they are, it's just that they are comfortable enough to ask for and use contraception.  Knowing all of this does not make the discussion any easier.

    I hit puberty early, I was 10 ( I was too young, but tell that to my body).  My mother prepared me for what was going to happen to my body.  I cannot imagine going through that huge change, and no one preparing you, it would be terrifying.  I knew that I could not put the talk off for too much longer.  I will be honest, I would sooner confide to my grandmother that I am a subscriber to pornography (I'm not by the way), rather than tell my daughter about how babies are really made.  I prefer the old "stork", or the tried and true "cabbage patch".

    Last year before Grace's tenth birthday I sat her down and had the "your body is going to change" talk.  I skimmed over the basics.  I then handed her an amazing book, "The Care & Keeping of YOU", by American Girl (I LOVE the American Girl brand).

    If you have a 10 year old daughter, I highly recommend this book.  It is beautifully written.  Not only does it talk about body changes, it also talks about hygiene.  The importance of washing their faces to avoid pimples, keeping their hair clean, the things that you may not think to include in "the talk".  I told Grace to read the book and then tell me when she had finished and we would talk about it.

    A few days later, Gracie came to me looking a little disgusted.  She had lots of questions.  I answered them the best that I could.  Then came the really tough question.... "How do you really make babies?" (unfortunely this one was not covered in the book).  My mouth went dry, and I wanted to throw up, Oh God, it had come, that question that I had dreaded had come.  I swallowed the vomit, and tried to put on a cool face.  "Act casual" I told myself, while my internal voice was running back and forth squealing.  I told her the truth.  "Oh that is GROSS!  I will never let any boy do that to me!"  My first instinct was to tell her that she was right, and she should NEVER EVER LET ANYONE DO THAT!  That would solve a lot of my problems, however down the road it would create problems.  "No it's a very beautiful that happens between two people who love each other" (you notice that I didn't say that you had to be married?)  This was the tricky part, how to make it that it is not too terrifying, and yet, not make it so awesome that she wanted to try it.  I really emphasised that it was something that should happen when she's a grown up, and in love with the person.  There was a long pause as she thought about something, "OH GROSS, Did you and Daddy do that?"  I wanted to say "NO, your'e all adopted."  But I told her we do, and it's a really beautiful way that people who love each other show their love.  Again, my mouth was dry, I wished that the earth would swallow me up whole, but I tried to act like I was cool with the whole conversation.

    I got through the conversation.  On drives when it is just the two of us, sometimes Grace will ask questions that have occurred to her.  It does not feel like it at time, but it's a good thing.  I want her to ask me first.  I want her to be comfortable enough to ask anything.  I don't want her to listen to her friends and and them tell her the wrong information.  Knowledge really is power.  As time goes on the questions progress, just like her maturity.

    Recently we have had discussions about boys.  Pretty soon boys may to ask her to do things.  I want her to have the self-esteem to say no.  I want her to have the knowledge about what they are asking her.  We also had a talk about older boys.  We always tell our children to be careful of strangers, but we forget that paedophiles had to start somewhere.  As girls we all had crushes on older boys.  The older boys were so alluring, so mature, they could grow peach fuzz moustaches.  Research tells us that most sexually deviant men begin to experiment in their early teens.   Because I know this information, I decided that this needs to be included in the "birds and the bees talk", or should I say "The birds and the bees continuing dialogue."  I told her that if an older boy ever asked her to be his girlfriend that she needed to say no.  That if an older boy ever tells you that you're pretty, and he wants to go off on a walk with you, say no.  I told her that older boys that want to date younger girls have something wrong with them.  One year older was the only acceptable age difference until high school.  She wanted to know why.  My answer was simple.  "Do you want to date any of the boys in Riley and Rowan's class?" (Riley and Rowan are three years younger).  "No!"  "How come?" I asked.  "Because  they are just little kids....... oh" she understood what I was telling her eureka!

    Here is what I think about the birds and the bees dialogue.  I say "dialogue" because for me it's important that the kids receive the information they are ready for, in terms that they will understand.  To me the dialogue protects them.  I would never let my kids drive in the car without a seatbelt.  I would never let them ride a bike without a helmet.  They need to know how their bodies work.  They need to know how to keep themselves safe.

    Soon I will be buying "The Care & Keeping of YOU" for Riley.  I dread that conversation, and yet I know how important it is.  I still need to research similar books for boys for Rowan.  I'm not sure what age they do all of their changing, I guess that I have some research to do.

    

Riley's Fairies

    Last week Riley watched "Fairy Tale".  We have seen it before, it is one of my favourite stories.  It's the story of the two little girls in 1917 who took pictures of fairies in their garden.  It is a truly beautiful story, and I highly recommend it.  As I say we've seen it a few times (we own it, that and The Secret Garden).  In the past viewing Riley enjoyed it.  This time it stirred something in her.

    Riley has become obsessed with fairies.  She will come and tell us information about fairies that she has researched online.  "Did you know that there is fairy butter?  Did you know that fairies like to drink milk?  Did you know that fairies like to eat berries that are poison to us?"  Every day we hear more facts about the fairies, it's nice.

    Every morning Riley races out to the backyard to see if there has been any fairy activity.  She has been leaving them food.  She came tearing in yesterday "They ate the cake I left them!"  She leaves them notes.

    Riley has been harassing me daily to help her make fairy furniture.  Today was the day, I made good on it.  Riley and Elly and I gathered sticks in the yard, and found some birch bark that had come off of our tree in  the front yard.  Using my trusty glue gun I made a tiny chair and a matching table using the twigs and sticks.  The girls were delighted (I have a few angry burns on my fingers to prove that I'm a good Mom).  

    When I had finished my glue gun magic on the twig chair and table, Riley clapped her hands and squealed in delight.  "Oh Mommy they will love it!"  She was so happy, it made me feel really good that she was so pleased.  I then found a birdhouse that my Uncle Johnny had made for me before he passed way.  That bird house has seen a few incarnations.  After Uncle Johnny first passed way I painted the birdhouse and made it into a lamp for the then infant Gracie.  She had a little bit of Uncle Johnny with her.  Recently I deconstucted it, and it just sat looking shabby.  It's latest incarnation is a fairy house.  Using my glue gun, I glued sticks around the outside, and birch bark onto the front.  Is it beautiful?  Not really, but Riley is so delighted.  I guess she is getting the gift of Uncle Johnny too.

    I guess we all need a little excitment, a little magic.  It's nice to beleive in something we can't see with our eyes.  We can't see love, but yet it exists....

Her First Dance

Gracie was juts week old being held by Gabe.

    How can a little baby have her first big girl dance?  I guess Grace is no longer a little baby, she'll be 11 next week.  It just doesn't seem possible that that little pink bundle I held tightly in my arms is this big pink bundle who is beginning to break free an become independent of me.  I can't believe how quickly time has flown by.  One second she is playing My Little Ponies and the next she is coming home excitedly talking about the school dance.  School Dance, I can't believe that is is already time for her to experience the school dance.

    She came home a couple of weeks ago barely able to suppress the bubbling excitement.  The other grade 5 class had challenged her grade 5 class to a dance off!  Then she rhymed off the different songs that she had requested.  Christopher asked her if she was going to dance with any boys.  She looked shocked, apparently she had not thought about that.  She took a few minutes to process that question and then a huge grin spread across her face.  Grace has discovered boys... heaven help us.

    I went out on the week-end to purchase new clothes for her to wear to the dance.  It was difficult.  I wanted to go casual, but not boring.  I want her to stand out, but not STAND OUT.  Thankfully she was delighted with what I picked out for her.  I also picked her up a lip gloss (as close as she'll be coming to make-up for a few years), and a cute little sample of perfume.  I am so excited for her, intermixed with nervous for her.

   What adult among us can ever forget dances (unless you live in the Footloose town).  That mixture of excitement and anxiety.  The boys and girls all standing on opposite walls, looking terrified.  The girls all dancing together in the middle to the fast songs.  The odd brave boy dancing that famous "boy shuffle"( the boy dance is where said boy stands perfectly straight, with the arms stuck to his sides like a soldier, and the just kind of shuffles his feet back and forth in place).  When the slow songs came on, the girls all cleared to the wall in what might have looked like an explosion and felt extra anxious.  The boys who were standing against the wall would work their way over across what must have seemed like hundreds of miles to the girls wall, in what looked to me a little like a Lemming migration.  As a girl on that wall, I prayed for that cute boy to come and ask me to dance.  When he did not I would try to stifle that cry that desperately wanted to escape from my chest, and try not to look as dejected as I felt.  It was painful.  Then there was that elation when, on occasion that boy did ask me to dance.  That amazing high that comes from pre-teen / teen hormones.  I have never tried heroine, but I suspect that is might give a similar high.

    My recollections got me wondering what it was like for the other side of the wall.  I asked my husband for the boy's perspective.  His is extremely different than mine.  He was one of those boys holding up the wall.  Apparently the boys would stand together ( I always wondered what they were talking about, being neurotic I was sure that they were making fun of me) making fun of the their friends who were brave enough to go and dance the fast dance (I think they were jealous).  When that fast song ended and we timid girls made a mass exodus from the dance floor (like our pants were on fire and the water was on the wall) for fear of looking like an idiot caught there, they were waiting for the brave girls to ask them to dance.  Apparently his self -esteem took a massive hit when the brave girls asked his better looking friends to dance (his perspective, not mine).  He said that he did not feel the least bit nervous when asking a girl to dance, he was not afraid of rejection, because they always said yes.  The nerves took effect afterward.  He was terrified of standing on the girls foot.  A three minute song felt like a three hour song.

   I'm not telling Grace about the nerves or the dread of dances.  I'm not going to taint her "new" experience with my "old" fears.  This is her day.  Good or bad, it is growth.  She will learn from this dance, it will help to shape her into the woman that she will one day become.  More than anything it will be fun.  I'm not ready to watch my little girl grow up, but it is out of my hands, I have to just watch it happen.  I will be there for the moral support and if necessary God forbid, I will be there with those arms to wrap around her and tell her that everything will get better.  They don't tell you any of this in "What to Expect When You Are Expecting".  This is the stuff that you learn as you go.

True You- Week Three: Personal Self Messages

    The week three message is "speak kind words to yourself", well not exactly like that, but essentially that.  They called it Positive Self Messaging, I like be kind to yourself better.

    As women we have a tendency to cripple our selves with our own thoughts.  How many of us have thought how fat we looked, or how old we looked.  How often do we congratulate that person in the mirror?  How often do you tell your mirror self that she looks great?  My inner critic is so judgmental that I rarely even look in the mirror.  I do not want that for my girls.  I want my girls to be strong and self- confident.  I want them to be courageous and to feel like they can take on the world.

    One of last weeks exercises was to make a list of self- critical statements.  The girls and moms then had to state what they thought a Positive Self Message (P.S.M.) to that would be.  One of the girls had a personal experience where she had tried out for something and not been accepted.  She had told herself that she was stupid and terrible, and that is why she had not been accepted.  The leaders of the group then asked her what her P.S.M. could have been.  She said that "I am a great singer, and that I should try again next year".  I am really torn on this one.  Shouldn't we be honest with ourselves like we would be to someone we loved? If my best friend came to me with a problem, I would not tell her only glowing and positive things.  I would use kind words to tell her what she needed to hear, not always what she wanted to hear (I have done this innumerable times).  I think we need to teach our girls to speak to themselves like someone that they love.  I want my girls to love themselves.  Not love themselves in a garish and vain way, but in a kind and compassionate way, the way that I hope they love each other.  They need to learn to be honest with themselves, but in a kind way.  "The reason that I did not get accepted is because I did not practice enough.  I obviously don't want this enough." "Or, I was just having an off day, I will ask if I can audition again".  They need to be critical, but in a kind and accepting way, and give themselves permission to occasionally fail.

    I am stymied trying to decide how we teach our girls positive self messaging.  I think that they need to see me as good role model.  I try to show the girls how positive I am about myself.  My inner voice is shouting at me that I am a liar as I try to model this positive behavior.  Do you think they know that I am lying to them about myself?  The older I get them more kind I am trying to be to myself, it's hard to undo 40 years of negative self- talk, but my girls are worth it, oh heck I am worth it.  I want my girls to accept what they cannot change about themselves (their freckles, eye colour, facial features) and fight for their best self in those things that they have the power to change.

   I came across a really great article about this same subject.  I warn you that I did not hit the other features, I just read the article.  It made sense, it was smart.

http://ezinearticles.com/?Teaching-Moments---Positive-Self--Talk&id=193889

    I would also like to share a major revelation that I had in the middle of last weeks class.  It has nothing to do with this week's topic.  I had heard about this year's class because one of the leaders of the group called to personally invite Grace and I.  I did not think anything of it.  I figured that they were calling all the girls of that age that they knew to remind them about this great class, and it is a great class.  I did not think another thing about it until the middle of last week's class.  

     My Grace is very shy.  So shy that it has took her until grade 4 to feel comfortable to speak in class.  Because of this, people view Grace like a victim.  People feel like they should do things for "poor Grace".  I discourage "poor Grace".  I never push her hard to break free of her shyness, but I do nudge her.  She will break out of her cocoon when she is ready.  I just need to encourage her to give her cocoon a poke, and a prod.  She needs to move at her own pace.

    Last week the group was coming up with negative messages that we tell ourselves.  One of the leaders asked Grace if she had some ideas.  She asked Grace in the tone that you would ask someone who is mentally handicapped, that sickly sweet tone.  At that moment I had what Oprah has coined an "Light Bulb Moment".  When I had my "Light Bulb Moment" I felt really stupid for not realizing it sooner.  They had not called to invite us randomly.  They had called because Grace is shy and they thought shy meant lacking in self- confidence and lacking in self -esteem, both of which Grace does not lack in.  If anything Grace has an over inflated self- confidence and self -esteem.  At that moment I wanted to shout out "You know she's shy.  She does not suffer from poor self-esteem".   Growing up my mother always told us "Don't mistake meek for weak".  I think that this very aptly applies to this situation.  Now I have the dilemma, do I tell them what I suspect, or just keep my mouth shut?  I would have taken her to the classes anyway.  They really are a great class.  What do you think I should do, tell or keep it to myself?

True You Week Two (I'm a poet and I didn't Even Know It!)

    Growing up and actually until I was in my thirties I suffered from terrible self -esteem.  So many of my decisions were based on my poor self image.  So many opportunities were squandered because of fear which was really a lack of self - esteem.  It is because of this that it has been so important to me from the time of my children's birth to foster their self-esteem as best I can.  In some ways I may have over done the praise, over inflated their sense of self worth.  Right now, at this point in time my kids all have great self-esteem.  I know that this is not the end result, that their self- image is on a continuum.  It is the same as the morals that we teach them.  All I can do is teach them to respect themselves and encourage them to love who they are in the skin that they are in.  The rest is up to them.  The voice that speaks to them about who they are is not mine, but their own.  

    I shared with you last Wednesday that Grace and I signed up for a "True You", mother / daughter group that occurs Wednesday nights.  The group is put on by our local health centre.  On the surface it seems funny that a "health centre" is putting this on.  The truth is that good self esteem reflects our mental health, and good mental health reflects our physical health.  If you look at it like that, our health centre is cutting long term medical costs by running such a program.  The "why" does not really matter.  What matters is that Grace and I are getting one on one time, and even if we only take one small thing away from this group then it was worth it.  What matters is that Grace is able to have a dialogue with other girls her age about a subject they would probably never discuss with their friends.  What matters is that when she asks "am I fat", or "am I pretty", she will know that she is perfect just the way that she is.  I won't have to tell her, she will just know.

    In last week's class we were shown a "Dove" video.  It showed the great lengths that the media goes to distort women's beauty.  It showed an average looking girl through the help of lighting, make up, and computer enhancement she became an unattainable ideal.  I am including the video at the bottom of this blog so that you can see for yourself.  We then discussed why the fashion, and beauty industry would do this.  We discussed how the girls and the mom's felt about this manipulation, and what the backlash of this was on self-esteem.  The girls had strong opinions.  I hope that they keep these strong opinions.  

    We also discussed some frightening statistics about women's self- esteem.  When asked, 13 percent of girls aged 10-14 felt comfortable calling themselves beautiful.  This drops to 6 percent of 15-17 year old girls.  This further drops to a sickening 3 percent of women aged 18-64.  The fact that only 13 percent of girls felt that they were beautiful was heart breaking enough, without seeing how much further that number sank.  A girls inner critic moves in by age 14.  That is why it is imperative that we change that inner critic before it settles.

To be  beautiful means to be yourself. 

 You don't need to be accepted by others. 

 You need to accept yourself.

- Thich Nhat

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The Adventure - The Pre-Teens

    I am the mother of 5.  Here's what I have learned about motherhood so far... just when you think that you have learned the rules of the game, the game changes.  I made it through the terrible twos relatively unscathed, but I have a feeling that the terrible twos will be no comparison to the teen years.  It's scary.  The scariest thing of all is that I will have three teenaged girls in the house at one time!  I don't know about the teenage boy thing, but I was a teenage girl... God help me!

    So far the pre-teens have been challenging.  It's tough to know what is hormonal and what is bad behavior.  Don't get me wrong I have a good kid, but she's a normal kid.  Sometimes when I hear myself talking to her I cringe at the tone I use.  I would never speak to Elly like that, and yet it seems acceptable to talk to Grace like that.  I read an article once about how to deal with teens.  The author suggested that when you feel like you are going to blow your fuse with your teen, think of them when they were toddlers.  I have to try that.

    The other tough thing about a pre-teen (although this applies to all kids) is fostering their self-esteem.  Without good self-esteem they may engage in risky behavior.  I think about how different my life would have been had I good self-esteem.  I did not engage in risky behaviors, but I made some bad decisions based on low self worth.  I did not gain self confidence until I was in my mid-thirties.  I often think wistfully "If only I was the ME now, then."  However if I was the ME then that I am now, I would not be the ME of today (very philosophical).  I want my kids to leave my home feeling ready for the world, and that falls on me to teach them that.

    Our local health centre runs a program every year called "True Me".  It is a mother daughter group for girls aged 10 - 13.  The woman who runs it called to see if Grace and I would like to sign up.  It's free and it allows Grace and I one on one time (something with 4 kids there is shamefully not enough of), I said yes.  I did not really know what to expect last Wednesday, our first night.  I knew some of the moms, but they were not friends.  I knew them by sight and to make small talk to.  We all sat around in a circle.  One of the first things that we had to do is fill out a bunch of questionnaires.  There were questions like "How do you think your daughter's self image is?"  That was easy, she has a great self image, she loves herself.  "How do you feel about your body?"  Oh tricky.  I have battled my entire life with that one.  As a teen and into my early twenties I had bulimia, notice that I don't say suffered from, for me it was no hardship.  For me it was the lazy girl's weight loss tool.  I could eat what I liked, and then.... it was gone.  I always thought I was "fat".  I look at pictures of myself and would like to reach through that picture frame and shake that girl.  "You are beautiful, you are perfect, just LIVE!".  In my twenties I gave up.  Then I had a husband who loved me just the way I was, and it did not matter.  Would I love to snap my fingers today and be thin, you bet, but I am o.k. for the most part in the skin I'm in.  My kids know I am fat, I know that I am fat.  I tell them "Would you love me more if I was thin?" I ask them when they ask why I'm fat.  "NO" is their response.  "Well there you go" I tell them.  To me it vitally important to drum it through to all my kids to love the skin they are in.  Make healthy choices, but enjoy your life.

    We had to introduce ourselves and say one thing that we liked about ourselves.  That was very tricky.  Not for Grace, Grace could list off all the things that she loved about herself without even having to think (maybe I'm doing a good job after all).  I on the other hand was stumped.  How do I say something that I like about myself, but not look immodest?  In the end I said something lame, like "I'm generous" (which I am, but really "generous").  Apparently I still have some self-esteem work to do.

    One of the other activities we did was to take three paper petals and write what makes your mother / child special.  I sat there teary eyed as the daughters all read what they wrote about their mothers and what the mothers wrote about their daughters.  I felt like an idiot.  I looked everywhere but at the other mothers, and then I accidentally looked at one of the other mothers and she had tears.  I then looked around the circle and saw not a single dry eye.  We were in a safe place, and we all LOVED our daughters.  My daughter LOVED me.  Sometimes we are so busy doing that mother daughter dance that I think we forget just how much we love each other.  It was nice to have a reminder.  I'm looking forward to Grace and my time tonight.  It's "our" time.  We walk over together and talk, we walk home together and talk.  It does not matter what we learn, that's just icing!  

    I plan each Wednesday to update you on our "True You" class (kind of like the at home Cole's notes).  I hope that you will share your own experiences with your pre-teen daughter.  I just hope that you will share.  We're all in this together!