Tag: self esteem

B-ball woes 

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This weekend blew the big one. Maria had a basketball tournament all weekend long; Mario had one on Sunday. I wish we would’ve had both kids tourneys this weekend  so we could’ve been done with basketball for the season.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Maria isn’t a superstar at basketball. She just started playing last year, and was on the fence about whether to play this year. She’s always looked at it as more of a sport to play in the winter in order to be around friends than a sport to play because she absolutely loved the game. We’ve talked about that on numerous occasions – if she wants to get really good at basketball she’s going to need to practice like a mad woman. However, she really has no desire to practice like a mad woman so it is what it is, right? She goes to each practice, tries her hardest, gets to hang with her friends, and goes to the games. Take it for what it is.

Throughout the season, she has not played as much as her girlfriends. She’s been fairly ambivalent about it because … “it is what it is” to continue the theme above. But in the last couple of weeks, it’s gotten more under her skin. I’m sure it’s because another girlfriend started complaining about not playing as much as some other girls. I talked with her about letting it go since it was near the end of the season; besides, she didn’t think she’d play again anyway.

Maria looked completely dejected at her last tournament game; they were down 28 to 6 and she was still on the bench. It broke my heart as a mom. She’d always been happy go lucky during these games, rooting on her teammates and sitting on the sideline smiling. But this last game, she didn’t break a smile once. After the game, she came over to me and mouthed tersely  “let’s go, now.” I asked her what was wrong. Dumb question from me but I didn’t know what else to say. Ri looked away and explained as we walked out of the gym: “I’m not part of this team. I can’t play well. They told the girls not to throw it to me. I just want to leave.” 

The mama bear in me wanted to go up to everyone of her teammates and the coaches and demand an explanation. The rational woman in me knew there was more to this and that confronting anyone right after the game would not be a good idea. Maria made it an easy choice for me because she just stormed out of the building to the car. We both sat in silence as we pulled out of the parking lot. Maria asked for my phone. I threw it back to her in anger – not anger at her so much as  anger at the situation. I hate leaving a game like that – not wrapping up and saying goodbye to the adults and the kids. I should have made her walk back into the building and say goodbye to everyone – mad or not.

Maria asked what was the matter with me. I chirped “what do you think is the matter? I’m upset at the way that ended.”

Ri sat silent for a minute but then began to talk. “I was just upset, mom, because I feel like I let my teammates down. I feel like the coaches think I’m the worst player ever because they tell my teammates not to throw to me. I’m just upset about the season and not being good.”

Why doesn’t someone just rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it? It would probably feel better than how I felt driving down the highway hearing this from Maria. I hate these parental moments with such a passion.

I can’t remember how I responded to Maria except that it brought out a whole conversation about basketball, coaches, sports, life. Yeah, we got real philosophical because that’s how mama works in those situations. I asked her how much she loved bball. She responded “not much.” I asked her how  many times she went outside to shoot layups and free throws. She responded “not much.” I asked her how much she enjoyed being with her friends during practice. She responded “a lot.” I tried to help her put it all in perspective. This was not a sport she loved through and through. She didn’t put much effort into it outside of practice and games. And that was perfectly fine. But that also meant that she might not get as much playing time as other girls on the court. The harder piece to tackle was her opinion of self based on the comments made to her by her friends and her coaches. Like I said earlier, I was torn between calling up the coach and giving her a piece of my mind and just letting it be. Coaches are going to have different personalities. There are going to be some that are super supportive and some that are not. But we are  dealing with sixth-grade girls. They need positive reinforcement; they need encouragement and support. I understand when they make a bad play, coaching. But coaching them in a supportive manner. I just don’t fathom how a coach can call some girls “good players” thereby implying there are “bad players.” 

I reinforced to Maria she cannot take what others say – be it a friend, another adult, or even a teacher – to heart and let it determine who she is as a person. She needs to believe in herself and trust  in herself. I can’t be there all the time when a coach or a teacher or a friend says something hurtful to her so I need to arm her with the ability to deal with those situations herself.

It’s hard as hell to be a parent, especially when you’re dealing with a pre-pubescent girl. You remember how it was to be that age, you have major flashbacks to the hell that it was at times. And you want to just avoid it all for your daughter. But you can’t. You got to help her as best as you can to move through it and find her strength. I so hope that’s what happens for her. 

As her mother, I will reinforce how wonderful she is, how I love her dreams, how she cares, how she wants the best in life, how she loves new experiences, how she has to believe in herself, and how she should treat others the way she wants to be treated.

In the end, I just want Ri to be able to get through these situations with a healthy attitude and confidence. I know she’s not always going to be happy and filled with joy – that’s just not life – but I want her to be stable and confident enough that when times aren’t particularly happy, she can weather through them and come out upright and stable, just like she has learned on those 80’s roller skates…..

She’s all that

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Yea, she’s all that.

Funny as all get out. She can have me laughing on even my most horrible of days.

Smart as a whip. She knows how things work, where things are, and what are the answers (and if she doesn’t, she can surely play it up like she does).

Perceptive as a CIA agent. She picks up on a conversation and quickly assesses what is happening. She easily deciphers when folks are being sarcastic versus sincere and can hold her own with those sarcastic souls (exhibit 1, Aunt Laura)!

Empathetic as no nine year old I’ve met. She senses when folks are hurting and knows how to console them. Whether it’s opening a door for an older individual or helping feed the homeless, she’s all in.

Fashionable as a runway model. She puts together combinations I’ve never dreamed of mixing and pulls it off magnificently (exhibit 2 above).

Generous as can be. She will give away her money, her toys, her food to anyone she sees in need … and not expect anything in return.

Protective as a mama lion. She will not tolerate anyone messin’ with her brood (exhibit 3, she was ready to call my boss the night I came home so upset about work).

Loud as summer thunder. She exercises those vocal chords extremely well. If you are sitting next to her, put the plugs in those ears. But it’s all in the name of pure joy and excitement.

Adventurous as a toddler. Give her an activity that scares 80% of humankind and she’s on it.

Thoughtful as an unsuspected gift on your doorstep. She loves to see people smile and is always thinking of ways to put one on faces (exhibit 4, sending “I love you” letters in the mail to family members).

Yea, this girl is all that – and I’m so glad I get to witness “all that” every single day.

Grateful for you, Ri.

xoxoxo
Mom

Act up!

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I appreciate what the author of this article is trying to get across – don’t raise your daughter to be self conscious about her body. Tell her she’s strong. Let her know you run to be healthy. Inform her you do squats to climb mountains. Educate her to eat well to live a long time.
I don’t disagree, and it certainly doesn’t hurt to remind us of how important this is for our daughters to hear.
But damn if I don’t say those things over and over again to Maria yet she still looks at herself in the mirror at times and says “I’m too big.”
I stand behind her when I hear that and make her look at herself. “Keep looking,” I tell her. I look in the mirror with her. I talk about how strong she is. How she can pick me up because of those muscular legs. How her arms are able to carry loads of groceries in the house. How her booty pushes down on those bike pedals and makes her ride like the wind around town.
She smiles. She nods her head and hugs me. And I hope those affirmations strike deep into her soul and remain.

The other morning I walked into her room and noticed three barbies lying on the floor. One was naked with her perky boobs standing straight up in salute. Another had on a party dress up to her mid-thigh; her tiny legs the circumference of pencils. Another had on a bikini with a stomach that was not only flat but actually concave into her body like a tiny dip in the road.
Hmmm, I wonder where she finds evidence to make her feel “big.”

My mom got me the Dusty doll when I was Ri’s age. She had dull brown hair cut to her shoulders, size AA breasts, if that, hidden under a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and gym shoes. Yea, that explains a lot about me today. That Dusty doll made a lasting impression on me through my love of sports and hard labor and lifting weights and running shorts and gym shoes (put me near pairs of heels and nothing happens but put me near pairs of running shoes, and I salivate!)).

Ri has little rolls on her tummy. I catch her doing what I did as a young girl. Pinching the rolls with her two fingers as she lies in bed staring up at the ceiling. What’s she thinking? I remember feeling “if only I could get rid of these, I’d be as pretty as —-.” I grew up with MTV and with Charlie’s Angels. Madonna. Christie Brinkley. I remember wishing – with my like flat-chested girlfriend – of having big boobs and a tiny waist like the actresses on tv. Ri is growing up with Selena Gomez, Christina Aguilera, and tv shows with perky girls in fashionable clothes. Nothing has really changed.

I’m so thankful for the women that raised me. Through them, I saw that there were other qualities about a girl that mattered. I watched full-bodied women dance in flowing dresses without a care; I listened to women of all shapes laugh together at the dining room table; I witnessed intellect and debate shoot from the mouths of women in my home and in my school. These women weren’t hung up on their dress size – they were hung up on life and fully experiencing it. Amen sisters.

Luckily, a lot of those same women are helping me raise Ri. She’s bearing witness to many of the acts I bore witness to as a young girl. Amen again, sisters.

And so while I appreciate and take note of these articles that remind us to watch what we are saying to our daughters and how we are talking about our own bodies around them, I also need to keep in mind the importance of actions.

Buy the Dusty dolls and the science kits.
Dance around the house like an exotic butterfly.
Fix the kitchen drain with my own two hands.
Mow the lawn.
Jump on my bike with Ri and ride a trail.
Embrace my stomach and my butt.
Write a poem.
Lift heavy weights.
Flex my muscles.

Let Ri see, as well as hear, that no matter if you have lotsa rolls or just a few, who cares? Concentrate on simply diving into life and fully experiencing it.

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I think she’s getting it just fine.

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Too Much Praise!

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So I remember reading an article similar to this one back when Maria was a toddler. And I remember thinking “that is such bullish–! You can never praise a kid too much.”

If there is one fu– up that I have had as a mom, I think this ranks up there (god knows I have had quite a few). I am able to completely verify the accuracy of the study in this article.

My sweet Maria has only ever been told since birth what an amazingly wonderful, special, fantastic, incredible girl she is. Any project she works on warrants a “what a spectacular job” no matter if it’s mediocre or truly spectacular. Any sport she attempts warrants a “you are a machine out there” no matter if she tripped over everyone. Any drawing she created warranted “that is gorgeous” even if she scribbled and put in little effort. Get my drift?
And I thought “what a great mom I am lavishing all this praise on my girl.”
And she did and continues to do, wonderful things. She’s passionate, adventurous, caring, loving, aware, funny, smart. But she’s also hesitant to try new things or to push herself beyond her known capabilities. She will, at times, but it takes work to get her there. That is why after reading this article, I was beating myself up. It’s hard to think of Ri as having low self-esteem. She is boisterous and not afraid to talk to people and always ready to take a trip and see new sights. She asks questions of adults when she doesn’t understand. She introduces herself to strangers.
But she also gets worried that she’s not as good a reader as her classmates. That she’s uglier than her girlfriends. That she isn’t motivated like her colleagues. That her teacher thinks she’s stupid. When I ask her to try soccer, she doesn’t want to. When I tell her to try to finish a long article, she complains (now that could be pure laziness!). When I tell her to draw an animal she hasn’t drawn, she hesitates.
Is it because I praised her so much that she doesn’t want to risk disappointing me with a new project she doesn’t know if she can complete well? Have I inadvertently caused her to avoid challenges?
Errhh. It’s so frustrating. It’s also humbling. Here I am praising my kid left and right and inadvertently judging the mom who doesn’t – when all along I could have learned some tips from her. It also can’t be the end of the world. There are plenty of “right” things I have done with that baby girl. I’m over the delusion that I will be the perfect mom. I just don’t want to screw her up too much (by the way, Mario is a whole other story – he thrives with excessive praise but there are quite a few other areas that I need to work on…).
So, I will keep this article in mind when I have told Ri for the 10th time how incredible her drawing looks of two stick figures. And I will continue to work on exercises that raise her self-esteem because I know my girl can reach the farthest star in the sky if she believes fully in herself. And I will continue to appreciate myself as a mother trying my hardest to raise intelligent, thoughtful, confident, and empathetic kids.

Amen!

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