Messages

Lately, I have been thinking about messages.  What kind of messages do I listen to?  What kind of messages do I send?  What kind of messages does my daughter hear?  Our world?

A few months ago, I read a book called "Cinderella Ate My Daughter".  This really got me to thinking about messages we are sending young girls.  I have a bittersweet relationship with all things princess and Barbie.  I mean, I played with Barbies for hours on end as a little girl.  I had the airplane that folded up kind of like a suitcase.  Loved it!  I had the big Barbie head that you could do her hair.  I honestly believe this was the beginning of my obsession with hair. My little Peanut has loved Disney Princesses since her first viewing of "Cinderella". Harmless, right? I think she was 2.  She cried when it was over, not understanding that we could watch it again.  Oh, how sweet, I thought.  This reconnects me to my chidhood.  I was in "Beauty and the Beast" and she loves Belle. Yada, yada, yada.  However, the flip side of this is am I teaching my daughter that the prince is the only one who can save us?  Fulfillment can only be found in romantic love? Should girls aspire to be the image of Barbie to feel confident? Peggy Orentstein raises these questions plus many others about the way too early sexualization of little girls and what it means to be feminine.  I don't always agree with her.  I believe there should be a balance and this book raised my awareness about the messages I let Peanut hear.

Mothering surely brings responsibility to what messages I personally send to Peanut.  She watches every move I make and is like a sponge.  No worries, I started the "therapy fund" the day after she was born. The other day she brought me an ad from a "Southern Living" mag  and asked so sweetly, "Mom, why don't you ever look like that?".  The add was for a department store.  The add was for jewelry and the model was shot from her bare shoulders up.  Her hair was pulled back in some sort of simple up-do.  She was wearing simple make-up with a brighter shade of lipstick.  Her neck was draped with bold and bright necklaces.  My response, after a little chuckle, was, "Wow, she looks nice, right?".  Hmmmmm.  What was Peanut getting at?  Does she think I need to accessorize more?  I probably do.  More lipstick?  It's possible.  Or is it that this woman looks, confident, at ease with herself and ready to take on the world?  I could surely stand to have  more of that in my life.  It was a funny moment when Peanut asked this perfectly innocent question of me.  But I really began to think about what she is learning from me.

I won't get all political here,  but I indeed thought of the messages sent as the world digested the news of the death of an evil man last week.  I can't even bring myself to mention his name in this blog. I just kept asking myself what kind of citizen of the human race am I and what messages  do I proclaim to the world?

Finally, I wonder what messages I send to myself.  Yesterday, I took the extra few minutes to make myself a yummy spinach salad with strawberries, pecans, avocado and balsamic vinaigrette.  A simple task.  But usually, I throw whatever leftovers we might have in my bag and run for the door, exclaiming, "Come on! We are late!". As I was taking the timing to chop the fruit, I asked myself why I don't do this more often. What am I telling myself when I don't take the time to make a healthy and enjoyable meal for myself?  Honestly, our leftovers are pretty healthy.  Or paint my toes? Or linger in bed a little longer to read a book? The point is, why don't I take the time to nurture myself?  These are messages I not only sending to myself, but Peanut and Husband as well. To quote Dr Phil, " You give people permission for how they can treat you." Let's all do a collective rolling of the eyes that I am quoting him.  However, I do believe it and I believe it begins with how they see us treat ourselves.