Faking Confidence

Parenting is the hardest job I've ever had.  I think a lot of people would agree with that statement.  I have a job, sometimes it is hard and busy and sometimes it is not and I can write a blog post :)

But parenting, never leaves my thoughts.  I become consumed with how I'm raising my kids, am I doing it right, will they be screwed up forever, how do I avoid mistakes that will turn them into horrible/sad/asshole/(insert any terrible description here) people?

I know in my head that kids become their parents.  I am so like my mom.  In so many ways.  I don't really look like her and we don't really have the same personality.  I can be very moody (like my dad), I rarely see her in a bad mood.  I can wallow (like my dad), I never see her do that.  Sometimes I feel like the whole world is against me and things are unfair (like my dad), but I rarely hear my mom complain.  But sometimes I'll hear my voice or catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror or in a picture and it almost takes my breath away at how much I am like her.

So one day, Ainsley will probably think the same thing.  How do I make sure that she ends up with the best parts of me?

I have never had the best self-esteem.  I don't have a lot of confidence in myself.  I'm shy and I often worry about drawing attention to myself.  I make excuses.  I never admit to being good at anything.  I never want someone to think I'm loud or obnoxious, so I stay quiet.  I do not take compliments well.

But I wasn't always that way.

As a kid, I loved to put on shows and act in plays and sing in church.  Anything to get on stage and draw attention.  And better yet, I thought I was amazing at all of it.  At some point that stopped and I just wanted to be invisible.  I wasn't bullied, wasn't picked on more than any other kid, wasn't abused.  No mega trauma happened in my life.  Yet right around middle school, my whole personality changed.  I can remember walking through the halls and just trying to blend into the walls so no one would talk to me or notice me.

High school was the same.  I can barely remember any kids from high school.  There are a few that I was friends with and there are a few others that I am Facebook friends with.  But this year is my 20 year reunion (sidenote: WTF?!?!?  How is that possible?) and I ended up in the Facebook group and I have no recollection of these people.  I've been looking them up in my yearbook to try and remember faces.  And I can, with 100% certainty, tell you that they have no idea who I am either.  Because in high school, I perfected being invisible.  Never too good or too smart or too friendly, but not bad either.  Just right down that average line.

I'm getting off on a tangent here, because this post isn't about me and my issues.  It's about Ainsley.

My girl, who is so full of energy and happiness and sunshine.  So totally over the moon about herself.  She can stare at herself in the mirror for hours if I let her (I did the same).  She loves to sing and dance (so did I).  She'll try anything.  Loves to be the center of attention.  Adores pictures and videos of herself.  She even has started her own "how to" video series.  All her idea.  This girl has so much confidence...

but...

Lately, she's been saying things.  She and Freddie will play a video game and she'll quit, saying "I'm not good at that, Freddie is way better than me."  She and a friend will do cartwheels or rolls and she'll want to stop saying "I can't do those."

And then, at the end of one of her videos...How to make Mint Chocolate Cupcakes...she was icing a cupcake all by herself for the first time ever.  And on video she said "So this one I put green icing on...it looks horrible I know, because I'm terrible at it."

And my heart broke.  Tears stung my eyes.  Because here she was being so brave to do something she had never done, on camera, to post to You Tube, and she was talking about how bad she was at it...

Just. Like. Me.

And in that moment, it finally sank in.  Something I've known since I was pregnant with her.  Something I've tried to instill.  But something I have never practiced in front of  her.  I can not expect to make her a strong, independent, confident woman unless I show it to her.

So really this is a post about my issues, because I can't let them become Ainsley's.  It's not easy to change 30 years of doubting myself, judging myself, criticizing myself for every move.  But I'm trying.  And I'll keep trying until I truly believe it so Ainsley can keep her confidence.

Here's her first video..."How To Brush Your Teeth and Hair"...more to come.

Number Three

I always knew I'd have at least three kids.  Clif and I are both the oldest of three, so it always seemed to be a given.

I'm sure there are those out there who think we're crazy.  I can't even tell you how many times someone would comment on how perfect we were with one boy and one girl.  That started when I found out Freddie was a boy.

"Oh perfect, one of each."

"You're so lucky to have on of each."

"Well now you can be done."

I would always nod and be polite but what I was thinking was "Who cares if I have one of each?  And I plan on having more."

Until you've felt it, it's hard to explain the need to have another child.  You just know there's another little soul out there that you're meant to be with.  It's not really a decision or a conscious thought...at least it wasn't for me.  It just was.

I have to say, that if you're having that feeling, go for it.  Three is awesome.  Everything is just so natural and easy at this point.

Now, let me be clear.  Life is not always easy.  Life is hectic and chaotic and crazy most days.  But that is not because of the third child, it is just part of having three kids.

Cohen is pure joy.  He is everything good about having a baby with none of the bad.  I'm no longer a nervous, worried, always questioning mom.  I feel like I can just enjoy every moment.  I'm completely confident in my abilities and decisions. 

I still worry about Ainsley.  I worry that she's not reading at the right level.  That she's not making enough friends.  That she's not involved in enough, or involved in too much.  When she was a baby I worried if she was eating enough, or too much.  Was I producing enough milk?  Why was she spitting up?  Did we do tummy time long enough?  Is she rolling over on time?  Would she be able to wear this outfit long enough?  Is she smiling, laughing, responding...blah, blah, blah. 

Freddie was so different from Ainsley, that he humbled me.  I thought I knew what I was doing, but he just never responded the same.  So I worried that I wasn't bonding with him enough.  That I wasn't meeting his needs.

Not with Cohen.  He's 5 months old.  He barely rolls over because I never put him on the floor.  He smiles and laughs more than he cries.  He eats when he wants and stops when he's done.  And I know that he's just fine.
 

It's not that I didn't enjoy my other kids as infants.  I did.  But now, I feel like that's all I do is enjoy him.  I don't let any worry or questions cloud that enjoyment.  I've managed to keep two other kids thriving past 5 months, so how could I go wrong here?

Your first baby rocks your world.
Your second baby builds your character.
And your third baby solidifies your confidence that you are totally cut out for this whole motherhood thing.

If only we could have that third baby, first - imagine how awesome we'd be.

Playdates

Ainsley is very social.  She doesn't get this from me...she probably doesn't get this from Clif either.  It's not that we don't have friends, we do.  We have lots of friends, but it's very hard for either of us to meet new people.  Our friends have been our friends for a long time.  We haven't made any new ones.

Of course it's pretty easy when you're in Kindergarten and everyone is new and you're just so thrilled with everyday things.  You become more jaded and cynical as you get older.  Ainsley also thinks she is amazing.  She has so much confidence.  She can't imagine why anyone wouldn't like her.  I don't have that anymore, I'm not sure I ever had it at the level she does.

No, I think Ainsley gets her social confidence from her aunts and uncles.  My sister, Clif's brother and sister...they're so outgoing, always making new friends.

I'm glad Ainsley has this.  It's hard to be 35 and unable to make new friends.  Because none of my friends live remotely near me.  Plus we all have kids and our own lives.  And I guess that happens anyway when you have kids, but it would be a whole lot easier if I could become best buds with a neighbor.  What I don't love about Ainsley's social ease...playdates. 

I mean, I love that she has friends and wants to play with them.  My dislike of playdates is totally selfish.  I'm so uncomfortable reaching out to these moms, sitting on their sofas, offering them drinks at my house.

It took me a month to approach a mom at the bus stop who's daughter is in Ainsley's class.  And really I only did it because Ainsley cornered me into it.  It's taken me over 2 weeks to find a contact address and actually email the mom of another girl that Ainsley talks about daily.  Then I poured over the 5 line email like it was a blog post.

I just have no confidence in my ability to befriend people.  And then the thought of hanging out with this new mom while our girls run around and giggle...terrifying.

I wish I could take some lessons from Ainsley.  I wish I could walk into a room and see nothing but new friends, instead of judging eyes and smirky grins.

Just Like Me

Those big blue eyes watch my every move.

In just 4 years I've had to explain mascara, shaving and tampons, because those eyes miss nothing.

She's so eager to grow up...

Mommy, can I wear makeup?
Mommy, can I have high heels?
Mommy, fix my hair like yours.
Mommy, I want to wear a dress like you.


...so eager to be just like me.

It's flattering and scary having so much power over this little mind.  She repeats my words, she mimics my walk, she mirrors my expressions.

Whether we like it or not, so much of who we are comes from our parents.  She looks nothing like me, but there will be days when she's speaking to her children and she'll hear my voice.  There will be moments when she passes a mirror and sees a glimmer of me.

Mommy, when I grow up I'm going to have babies like you.
Mommy, when I grown up I'm going to go to work like you.
Mommy, am I pretty like you?
Mommy, am I smart like you?

She wants to be just like me, and I hope she's so much more.

According to Ainsley - Standing Up

As a mom, I struggle with many worries...

Are they eating enough fruits and veggies?
Did I brush their teeth well enough?
Are they getting enough sleep?
Is that runny nose leading to a cold?
Are they watching too much TV?
I forgot the vitamins again!

All of those, I feel like I can control a bit.  I can make rules about snacks, I can brush teeth again, I can set an alarm for vitamins.

But, there are some things I worry about, that I'm afraid I won't be able to control...and it's those that keep me up at night.  One thing in particular, especially with Ainsley - probably because she's a girl...

Will she be able to stand up for herself?  Will she go along, even if she knows it's wrong? 

I'm not very good at standing up for myself.  Actually, saying I'm not very good at it is a grave understatement.  I'm terrible at it.  I don't.  I am quiet, and shy, and always worried about people liking me or hating me.  If I don't talk to a friend for awhile, I'm sure I've done something to upset them.  If people are whispering, I'm sure they're talking about me.  If all attention is suddenly directed my way, I find my escape as soon as possible.

I don't want that for Ainsley.  I want her to feel confident and sure.  I want her to stand up for herself.  But how do I teach that, when I can't do it myself?

This past weekend, we spent the afternoon with some old friends.  They have a little boy just a bit younger than Ainsley.  He and Ainsley are kind of hot and cold.  I think it's a difference in personality mostly.  They were on the deck, and I'm not even sure what they were playing.  I didn't hear what was said leading up to this, but as I heard Ainsley's voice rise, I turned to see this...

Ainsley on her tip toes, towering above the boy, finger waving, yelling "NO!  I am not a horse!  I am a kid and don't you DARE speak to me that way!" With that, she spun on her toe and walked away.

I asked her later what it was all about and she said that the boy wasn't sharing so she didn't want to play with him.  Then, after explaining she said, "Oh no!  I forgot to tell him I'm sorry for yelling at him!  I will tell him next time."

So, maybe that's one less thing I need to worry about.

Tiny Dancers

We are late.

I so didn't want to be late.

I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.

She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there.  Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.

We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.

I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.

We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio.  I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants.  She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.

I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window.  I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures.  So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.

At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor.  From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.

Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines.  Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back.  As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.

Fear.

Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt.  And that breaks my heart.  What if she's not good enough?  What if she can't keep up?  What if she's embarrassed?  She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights.  Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid.  She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure.  Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon.  But my fear is more about what lies ahead.  School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at.  I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.

She is not following along with the teacher at all.  She forgets to put her hands on her hips.  She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing.  But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told.  She always listens - to other people, that is.

The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.

As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.

Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!!  I am a drate (great) dancer!