Recently, Glamour magazine came out with a new poll that I found VERY interesting.  Amazingly, it wasn't about "What he likes in bed" or "Who wore it better?".  I haven't actually read one of these magazines for the simple reason that I don't care about the results of either of these "studies".

This poll showed that 97% of women admit to having negative thoughts about their bodies every day.  More disturbing was the part that said that it starts as young as six years old.  I can't tell you how much this bothers me.  I have three daughters... two of whom have passed the six year mark.  Do they already have issues?  Do they already have a track playing in their heads like I do?  Is it, as the findings suggest, my fault?  Sadly, I'd have to answer the last one with a yes.

When I graduated from high school, I was a solid size 8.  I ate fast food every day, never exercised, and couldn't have dreamed of wearing a small anything.  Now, three kids and fifteen years later, I'm a size 2.  (Just putting that on paper makes me cringe.)  I haven't touched fast food in more than eight years, I have been known to exercise twice a day, and my husband has mixed up my clothes with our nine year old's. 

Somewhere along the line, I equated eating with failure.  And, now I hate my body.  The same body that gave me these three beautiful daughters and carries me through each day with them.  The body that other women sometimes say they wish they had.  This is not who I want my children to emulate. 

Our society blasts us for not looking hungry.  My girls see girls every day that could really use a sandwich.  How do I keep them healthy without pushing them into wanting to be "skinny"?  I have banned the word "fat" from my house.  No one is allowed to say it about anything or anyone.  My husband is the worst offender, and I can't make him see that his comments about his wife effect his girls just as much.  Especially Sofia, when everyone keeps telling her that she looks like me.  I always correct them that she actually is only built like me.  Her beauty is her own.  But, I can't control the images they see.  I can't control the thoughts they have about themselves.  And, that terrifies me.

I want them to be the lonely 3% that love who they are.  My worry is that, always telling them how amazing they are isn't going to be enough.

Dear Glamour magazine...  please stick to the trashy crap I don't care about.  This whole "Help the Girls of the World" thing is starting to keep me up at night! 

I refuse to believe anyone else's houses are like this

My house is a warzone.  A battlefield covered in the blood pouring from my ears.  The kind of unfriendly territory usually reserved for terrorist bootcamps.  If there was a reporter brave enough to be embedded with this troop,  this would be his report on the nightly news:

All was quiet.  Then, the alarms went off.  It's 6:45 on a Tuesday morning in Kansas, but it may as well be the beaches of Normandy on that fateful day.  There is painful screaming (though the injuries must be internal because I see no blood).  There are people throwing themselves on the floor (though not onto grenades to save their friends).  There is no end in sight to this misery.  Wait.... this just in...  it's 8:00.  Quiet again.  Whew... that was one I didn't think I'd survive.

This is what every single school morning is like.  A battle to the finish to get two girls to school. 

They all get up at 6:45.  This gives them more than an hour to get out the door to school.  Mind you, I've already been up for more than two hours.  Their breakfast is on the table before they get up.  Their clothes are layed out the night before.  Their lunch boxes are packed while they're sleeping.  ALL they have to do is eat, brush their teeth, fix their hair, and get dressed.  In more than an hour.  But, this is how it actually goes...

6:45 - 6:55  drag them (sometimes kicking and screaming) to the table
6:55 - 7:15  beg them to stop arguing with each other and just eat
7:15 - 7:45  beg them to stop arguing and just get ready for school
7:45 - 7:55  lose all control and start threatening to leave them at school that night so as to avoid all of this nonsense again tomorrow.
7:55 - 8:00  drive them to school trying to calm down enough to genuinely mean the "Have a great day!  I love you!"  that I'm obligated to say when they get out of the car.
8:01            celebrate that I have another twenty two hours, forty five minutes before I have to do that again.

What can I do to make our mornings run more smoothly?  What on earth am I doing wrong?  Is it possible that other houses are going through this every morning?  I don't believe it.  If they did, there would be a lot more boarding schools.

I've had a remarkably bad week.  I mean awful.  Yes, it could have been worse.  However, I believe one still has the right to have a moment or two of a crying fit - even if a million people have it worse than them.  So I had my time to wallow.  Then today's weather  was gorgeous.  73° and sunny.  It doesn't get much better around here. So, Maya and I were finally able to take our afternoon walk again.  We do this every school day when weather permits.

I defy anyone to find a better mood booster than taking a walk holding hands with this child.  The stress, drama, illness, lack of sleep, self-loathing of this week melted in the sunshine on her face.  I am reminded of all I have to be thankful for.  Starting with walks on a sunny day with the girl in the sparkly shoes.

Meet Eva Elena

This is Eva.  She is my middle daughter, and I adore her.  I mean truly adore her.  I love all of my girls, obviously.  But, Eva is special.  She is smart, strong, and athletic.  Most importantly, though, she is the sweetest child I've ever met.  She is thoughtful and sensitive.  Eva is the first one to come running if someone needs help, and she will often get upset if she sees anyone else crying. 
Unfortunately, this child struggles immensely.  She is painfully shy.  I don't mean the average "bashful among strangers" shy.  There are members of our extended family that have never heard Eva's voice.  She spent almost an entire year of preschool without speaking at school.  Now, in her second year at the elementary school, it still takes her several months to utter more than two words to anyone. 
At home, she's a bright shining light of happy.  In public, it's like she turns the lights off and shuts the curtains.  It's painful to watch her at recess (yes, I'm an occasional playground stalker).  I stay up nights worrying about whether she'll have friends as she grows up.  School is hard enough without adding the inability to socialize into the mix.  I've tried all I can think of to help her, but I know that she's going to have to do a lot of it herself.
There's another issue that I see looming on the horizon, however.  It's something I've been faced with for several years, but it hasn't come to Eva's attention yet.  See, not only is she the middle child, she's stuck in between two sisters.  Two sisters who get stopped every time they go somewhere by someone wanting to tell them how pretty they are.  People who will say, in front of Eva, how gorgeous one or both of the other sisters are.  People are thoughtless.  I think that all of my girls are adorable.  And, truth be told, Eva was definitely the cutest of the babies.  Working against her, though, is that she's built exactly like her papi.  She is short and round, just like every member of his family.  Her sisters are long and lean.  I worry (notice that I worry much?) that she's always going to feel "different" from them.  I don't need any of them to be popular.  And, I certainly don't want them being chased by boys.  But, I don't want her to be the sister that never gets asked to a dance.  Or the one that is overshadowed by one or both of the other girls.  I want her to feel how perfectly beautiful she is - even if no one else sees it.  How do I do that?  How do I make other people see that Eva is no less pretty than her sisters.  Beauty is subjective, I know.  But, anyone who can look in those big brown eyes and not see that it doesn't come any more perfect than Eva has no right to form an opinion on anything... least of all beauty.
So, this is Eva.  She's smart, strong, athletic, and beautiful.  And, I adore her.

Who comes up with these?

 A couple of years ago, I stumbled across a website that lists all of the "holidays" of the year.  I use the word holidays very loosely here.  When I told the girls about these wacky celebrations, Eva was thrilled.  She gets such a kick out of them, that I've kept it up.  We've even started "honoring" the best ones at our house. 

Which lead us to Ice Cream for Breakfast Day. 

When they wandered out to find their bowls, they were flabbergasted.  I'm sure they thought I'd lost my mind, but they weren't going to question me!  So, on February 5 my children (the ones who will never know the "pleasure" of a Lucky Charms or a Fruit Loops) ate mint ice cream for breakfast.  Well, two of them did.  Sofia threw such a fit that Eva had the nerve to tell her what flavor it was that I took her bowl away.  Hey, cool mama can only go so far.

Anyway, we will continue to follow these off-the-wall holidays until Eva grows tired of it.  Today is "Wave all your fingers at your neighbor's day".  ummmmm, ok?  I'm holding on for February 26... "Open that bottle night"!

The gift that keeps on giving?

I gave each of my daughters a gift.  I knew it was risky to give a gift without asking them if they really wanted it.  I knew it was a gift I couldn't return if they decided it wasn't for them.  It was a gift that I didn't get as a child, and I've been thankful every single day for not receiving it.  But, I thought I was doing them a favor.  What was the gift?

I gave them sisters.

I really thought I was doing the right thing.  Well (to be honest) I tried to give them brothers, but my supplier was all out of those apparently.  I wanted them to have someone that they could always turn to and say, "Remember when Mama was such a witch that she _____________?"  I think every kid needs to have someone to grow up with so they always have someone to confirm their horror stories of childhood.  I wasn't so foolish as to believe that they would always be best friends every step of the way.

However, I did not count on them HATING each other either.  And, they do.  Well, not all of them.  And, not all of the time.  But, put more than two of them together at any one time and someone always ends up crying.  They hate each other with the kind of venom that makes me think one is sneaking into the other's room to eat their puppy at night.  Except we don't have a puppy, and I don't let them wander the halls at night.

As I said, my mother didn't reproduce after she had me.  And, the world is a better place for it.  My dad and step-mother have two kids (twelve and fourteen years younger than me), but I didn't grow up with anyone.  So, I thought that maybe this was normal?  But I've asked people who have siblings, and they say they didn't behave like this.  I've asked people with more than one child now, and they say their kids don't fight all of the time.  So, I guess it's just mine.  Great.

What is it about my girls that makes them dislike each other so much?  They fight from the moment they wake up to the moment I shove them in their rooms and lock the doors lay them sweetly in their beds and kiss their foreheads.  I want them to grow up to be best friends, but I would also like them to be friends today.  They are such amazing people, but they can't seem to see that about each other.  I'm at a loss.  I have assured them that I'm not getting rid of any of them (although there are moments when I imagine putting an ad up).  Will they grow out of it?  Will it ever stop?  Will we all survive?  Will the liquor stash run out before my patience?  Stay tuned.