In Defense of Kreeaytiff Nayemz and Youkneec Spellings

Image credit suvodeb on Flickr

Confession is good for the soul, so I am going to let you in on a secret.  I think that unusual names and nontraditional spellings are cool.   Why is this a confession, you ask?  After all, the people I spend time with are pretty tolerant, by and large.  We make choices that are a bit outside of the mainstream and look at the world though our own individual lenses.  So it never fails to surprise me when I see posts mocking unusual names or non-traditional spellings.  I am not talking about parents naming their kids something degrading, like Poopy.  And, of course, some of the criticism is gentle ribbing, noting the poster's accidental flubbing of pronunciation.  But a surprising amount comes across as a bit malicious, and I just don't get it.

I'll acknowledge up front that I am biased.  My own name, although common in Mexico, is very unusual here.  Few people get it right on the first try.  I have been called everything from Dooley to Doushay (yeah, really) and pretty much anything else that has any part of Dulce in it.  We used to get telemarketers calling for Dulcky.  I get that it can be aggravating for both sides to have a name that isn't easily pronounced on the first try.

And yes, I remember feeling disappointed at times when I couldn't find mass-market personalized items when I was a child. But that was a fleeting thing

Even more, though, I remember vigorously nodding along as my favorite literary heroine insisted that "Anne-with-an-e" looked much better than "Ann", that a "K" was much more alluring than a smug-looking "C" and that she could see all the sharp angles and corners in a "W" when it was spoken. 

I feel the pleasure of recognition when someone recalls my name or makes the effort to pronounce it correctly. 

I am also a teacher who learns a large number of names every semester, and it is actually very nice to see or hear names that stand out a bit.  I find that they stay in my mind much more readily than common names with conventional spellings.  I always ask my students to introduce themselves as they prefer to be addressed in the beginning, and it is never a problem.

Names are important.  We thought and prayed long and hard before choosing our childrens' names.  We gave careful consideration to the meanings behind them, how they would come across in both Spanish and English, and yes, even to the spellings.  And although none of them are in recent top 10 lists, none are particularly unusual.  But each of their names beautifully reflects the child.  They have made their names even more lovely to me because now I see them when I hear that name.  And that is every bit as true for kids with creative spellings or simply unusual names.

Whatever names you have given your children, however you have chosen to spell them, I celebrate the meaning, beauty and uniqueness of your child.  Of you.  Of your own way of seeing things and the way that is highlighted in the way you address your child.  And I believe that other people will, too.  (If you have gotten the argument that your child won't be taken seriously with an unusual name, let me say that in my experience, true leaders are open to innovation and creativity and are unlikely to judge your child negatively).

Please give your child a name that reflects how you see him or her.  One that speaks a blessing over your child each time you say it.  One that demonstrates exactly who your child is called to be.  You and your children are one of a kind.  It is OK if your names show that.  I will be cheering for you.  And I will have the courtesy to learn how to pronounce it and spell it correctly.  :)

Masterpieces

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The one parenting decision that people have expressed the most shock over isn't related to breastfeeding, cosleeping, our vaccination status or discipline.  However, the shock would lead a bystander to think we are neglectful parents.  Ready for it?  Deep breath.  We didn't pierce our daughters' ears.  For Hispanics, that is about as surprising as not circumcising would have been in the US a few decades ago.  (Happily, most Hispanics do not circumcise).

My mother's church growing up took great care not to conform to the world.  The women didn't wear pants, or make up or pierce their ears or cut their hair short.  I know all the arguments that would dismiss that--I used them on my mom!  God looks at our hearts, not our outward appearance.  And it can still become all about conforming to church culture (the same hair dos, the same style of dress) and turn into an issue of pride.  And as far as modesty goes, any hyperfocus on something tends to actually draw more attention to it in the first place.  But.

But, in spite of those things, I also saw a sincere desire to please God with their bodies, a recognition that we are created by the Master Artist and that we don't have to make ourselves into copies of our culture.  And I admire that deeply.

So, back to the whole ear-piercing thing.  I got my ears pierced for my tenth birthday.  It hurt a lot.  We did one of those ear-gun places at the mall.  Despite careful applications of alcohol and the salve that we were given, one ear developed a boil-like, pus-filled infection.  Even after following all the instructions about leaving the posts in, twisting, etc, for the first few years, one of the holes would close over in the back if I didn't sleep with my earrings and I would have to punch it through. (If my children get pierced, they will go to a professional piercer that uses a needle instead of a tissue-crushing gun).

However, I am very, very glad that my parents let me make the choice about what to do with my own body.  I like wearing earrings, and have not had any problems at all for over twenty years.   I pierced my sister's ears at home with a sterilized needle, thread and a potato. When my mom decided to get her ears pierced, I was delighted to go with her.  It seemed like a symbolic choice of freedom somehow.  And when a friend of mine got a navel ring, I accompanied her and celebrated with her.

The issue of choice is important to me, and not one that I would make for someone else.  When our first daughter was born, Carlos and I discussed the idea of getting her ears pierced and quickly agreed that there was no reason to do something painful and permanent to our baby for cosmetic reasons.  She was perfect the way she was.  If she wanted to get her ears pierced once she was old enough to understand the choice and take care of them, she could, but we weren't going to make the choice for her.  

This weekend, my seven year old and I had a conversation about make up, piercings and other forms of body art.  It provoked some thought about what I want my standards to be for my children.  Ariana hasn't shown interest in makeup before, but she confided in me that she thinks she would like to wear lip gloss and maybe some other stuff sometimes.  Her two year old sister, on the other hand, asks me to buy her blue lipstick almost daily.

Like our conversations about shaving, it made me feel a little uncomfortable about the messages that I am sending my daughters.  Not only do I wear earrings, I have been wearing makeup--a lot of make up--since I was ten or eleven.  I like the way I look with makeup better than the way I look without it, for sure.  Yet I don't want my daughters to think that they need makeup, ever, and certainly not as children!  I feel like a hypocrite, and that bothers me a lot.

I believe that God designed us with a desire for beauty and creativity.  Part of being made in His image is our drive to create and make things beautiful, to express our own uniqueness.  Body are can certainly be part of that.  When my kids wanted to make their hair different colors, I was happy to let them.

But they are already masterpieces.  Their bodies are beautiful.  I want them to know that and rejoice in who they are.  I don't want them to make changes to their bodies from a pressure to conform to those around them, or to think that they aren't "enough" already.  And I won't even get into the whole issue of sexualization of children, but I highly recommend reading Pigtail Pals for some excellent posts.

I find it easy to come to clear decisions on a lot of topics, but this is one where I struggle.  I am not sure exactly how to transmit my values to my children and be authentic.  The whole beauty thing is tough.  I work at not putting my self down, especially not in front of my children.  Most of the time I feel accepting of the way I look.  But I also am self conscious of weighing more now than I did at the end of pregnancy with my first three.  My hair is different shades thanks to do-it-yourself attempts at covering grays.  My skin is splotchy thanks to hormonal surges.  I could go on to list flaws in my teeth and more.  

I have friends who have been models and I dabbled in it briefly as a teenager (never made any money or did any jobs where someone would recognize me, but I had fun).  I know that even people that most of us consider very attractive tend to criticize their own appearance.  But I don't want that for my children.

Being the change we want to see it hard.  I am not convinced that I need to give up make up and jewelry or anything--like I said earlier, I believe that a desire to express beauty and creativity in our bodies is part of the way we are made.  But I also want to balance that with the recognition of the beauty that is inherent within us.  And I want my actions to match my words.  How do you teach your children that they are masterpieces?

Beautiful

I am so, so excited.  Sarah from Under the Olive Branch has written a guest post!  If you haven't yet visited her blog, please head over there.  Although The Restoration of All Things finished, there are many more stories to be told!

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Photo credit rante i on Flickr

One thing that stays on my heart is the way that people feel about themselves, and how much that has to do with what they are constantly told. Directly or indirectly.

People are not told enough, in no uncertain terms, that they are beautiful. Of course we all know that advertising, bad habits of comparing ourselves to others, and comments we hear from people about other people can pile up into a scary under-the-bed monster that comes out every so often just to remind us that beauty is still far from our grasp. Like a tiny purple flower growing on the peak of the world's highest mountain. We are required to pursue it while knowing full well that by the time we reach it's former home, frost bite will have long since destroyed it beyond all recognition.

And what are we armed with? Cliche phrases like, "True beauty comes from within.", and "But you are fearfully and wonderfully made!" Both of these are so true, that the actual realization of it in a glorious moment of understanding almost hurts. But how do you transfer that understanding to a dear friend as she lingers before the mirror a few moments longer, scrutinizing her every curve? Or to your sweet little cousin who simply won't be convinced that her freckles are lovely? Or even to yourself when you have a slight lapse into vanity and forget?

I don't mean to imply that this is solely a girl's conundrum. Plenty of guys struggle with what they look like as well.

Too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, too lanky. Wrong nose, wrong complexion, wrong eyebrows.

Don't even get me started on hair. I was "blessed" with curly hair that not one hair dresser on the planet knows what to do with. They just want to brush it. Then I have to turn sideways to get out the door.

The truth is that there aren't enough words to say that can convince a wounded spirit that she is beautiful. She (or he) has to be shown. We have grown up in a world where ugly is among the most fearful things we feel we could possibly be.

No. We have to show each other that beautiful is not something to be achieved by suddenly morphing into [insert gorgeous celebrity here]. It comes from embracing the person God made you to be.

A bottle of hair dye can be so much fun, and a new diet can be healthy.

But they are not what make you beautiful.

You aren't beautiful because you're taller than that one girl, or shorter than that other one.

Not because your hair outshines all the other hair in the land with it's glossiness.

Or because you have the perfect hourglass figure.

No.

You are beautiful because you listen.

Because you sing.

Because you play.

Because you love.

Because you are you. The only you ever.

I want to encourage everyone not to deprive the world of themselves just because they are not a carbon copy of [again with the gorgeous pop star]. You were never meant to be anyone besides you.

I feel inclined here to quote a favorite band of mine called The Danielsons, who simply stated, "Be just who you're made to be, Poppa is so mighty pleased with thee." We are the Creator's creation. And He is well pleased with us. Who cares what society says about our ears or our waistlines or our hair? Of course we should take care of ourselves, but it is not society that gets to tell us what we are.

Photo credit markwy on Flickr

Beauty is when a friend calls at 5am and you are right there to listen without a second thought.

It's when you are tucking a little one in at night and sing to him after a long day.

It's a cup of coffee in your hands on the porch in the morning, just soaking in the sunrise.

It's those times in life when you get it right.

And those times when you get it horribly wrong, but you learn... and you get a second chance to get up and have another go.

We are beautiful because our lives are beautiful.

We are beautiful because God loves us.

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Sarah Whitlock is married to her first kiss, Joseph, and is a Wielder of the Quill of Endearing Humor.  More of her writings are available at Under the Olive Branch.

Her body, her choice

Photo by renfield on Flickr

"A double minded man is unstable in all his ways." ~ James 1:8  AKJV

Despite my recent post on foolish consistency, I really like to know where my boundaries are.  When I am in the process of trying to determine exactly what is appropriate and what isn't, I wind up getting frustrated with my kids and myself.  Once I am clear on what boundaries I will enforce and why, there is much more peace.

My latest conundrum has involved body boundaries and pride in appearances.  One of my convictions is that my children should know that their bodies belong to them, and that if they tell someone "no", that must be respected.  The only exceptions involve safety issues.  For example, I am ruthless about carseat usage.  Whether they like it or not, they must be properly buckled up when we go somewhere.   Elena has started fighting it a little.  She screams and flails.  There is no shaming, roughness, punishment or anything like that, but there is also no negotiation.  If we are going somewhere, she is in her seat.

Ariana has always shown some tactile defensiveness.  She is extremely sensitive to anything touching her body, and even in winter will wear the least amount of clothing possible.  She winds up in a short-sleeve shirt and underwear as soon as we get home.  She also loathes to have her hair brushed.  Regardless of how gently it is done, she is reduced to tears nearly every time.  We've tried haircuts and spray conditioners, different kinds of brushes and combs, etc.  They help a little, but it is still an ordeal.  Now with something like brushing teeth, I feel confident in enforcing it.  But there is no health/safety issue with hair--just my pride at stake because I don't want to appear neglectful.

We've negotiated different things--brushing a certain amount of strokes, stopping for a break anytime she asks, her doing it, me doing it, and pretty much every other thing that I can think of.  I've explained my reasons for wanting it to be brushed, we've talked of ways to reduce tangles, let her choose special clips or barrettes...nothing really helps.

I feel icky about trying to manipulate her or force her.  Deep down, I think that it is her body and that she should be able to refuse.  I also remember going through similar issues with my mom over fingernails.  I cannot describe how absolutely horrible the sensation was on my fingertips for the first two or three days after cutting my nails, even when they weren't cut too short.  I get how ridiculously dramatic it sounds to use terms like violation, rage, or even hurt--I really do--but the feelings of helplessness and violation were real. 

So now I am trying to navigate just how important it is to conform to cultural standards of haircare versus my daughter's right to say no and control her own body.  I would love to wrap up this blog post with a nice little bow of resolution, but I haven't quite found it yet.  So far, we compromise in that we do minimal brushing at home and negotiate some for special occasions.  (Yes, I have explained several times that keeping it brushed regularly will help reduce knots and tangles, but in reality, it doesn't seem to make a huge difference, and she insists that she would rather have less brushing, period).  Anyone want to solve my dilemma?

Handsome is...

Joel (5) was talking to the baby and said that he thinks she could be a boy, except that she is too cute. I told him that he is a boy and he is very cute. He corrected me quickly. "No, I am not cute. But I am very handsome. Aldo [although] I am not so handsome that all of the girls in the town would be attracted to me--just half of dem. If dere were more, den I might have to get married and be part of a different family."

Oh, my. Not even sure where to start on that one.

Beautiful Bodies

Image credit: bionicteaching on Flick

One of the things that I love about breastfeeding and birth is the message to our children that our bodies are, in short, amazing. There are so many subtle, ubiquitous messages in our society that our bodies are wrong--the wrong shape, the wrong size, the wrong color--and that they just don't work. I don't want my children to internalize those attitudes. There are a few things that I have consciously chosen to do to help fight that:

Awareness. The poison is everywhere. And it doesn't only target girls. I saw my four year old practicing muscle poses in the mirror. It was cute, and I didn't over-react or anything, but it reminded me that many boys also suffer from body-issues over size. I want to keep an eye out for any signs that these views are taking hold in any of my kids.

Watch my mouth. To this day, every single time I see my mother, she makes negative comments about her own appearance. So do most women, I think. I purposed in my heart when my first daughter was born that she wouldn't hear me running myself down about my body. I've been able to keep it pretty well, even when it is a struggle. Ironically, one of the hardest times to do that is if someone pays me a compliment! How crazy is that? My first response is always to negate whatever they say. I suspect that that is another example of gender-conditioning, and I know that Gothard is really big on always deflecting praise. It is incredibly difficult for me to accept it with a gracious "thank you", but I am trying to learn for my children's sake.

Control. Or rather, don't try to control things I am not supposed to. One thing that has come up with many people I know who have gone through eating disorders is that it was one of the few things that they were able to control in their lives. I want to allow my children freedom, especially over their own bodies, but in other areas, too. As babies, they breastfeed as much and as often as they want, so that they get used to following their bodies' cues on hunger and satiety. We have never forced food. Most of the time, they can eat whatever they want within the things we have in the house. We are designed to regulate our intake well, and if left alone, generally do so. Check out some of these posts by Authentic Parenting, Dare to Disciple, and Ask Dr. Sears.

Be an example. Along with modeling a healthy attitude toward my body by not complaining about it, I also try to eat moderately. Food allergies have helped tremendously in getting us used to cooking a lot and being aware of the ingredients in foods. On the other hand, there have also been plenty of times when I have excused junk if we actually find something safe for the kids to eat. Also, I have a big sweet tooth (or more accurately, several sweet teeth). It is hard to balance, sometimes. And I will just go ahead and admit that when it comes to exercise, I am a flat failure. I have lots of excuses, but that is what they are. However, we did get a wii fit for Christmas, so that might help. And we do lots and lots of outdoor stuff, walking and playing, etc. It is doubtful that things like sit-ups, though, will ever be in my repertoire.  Clearly, I need to put more effort into this step.

Talk about it. If they watch a Barbie movie, we talk about the lack of realism in Barbie's shape. We talk often about what real beauty is (inner and outer). We tell our children that they are beautiful, especially focusing on things like their eyes, as well as the beauty in their spirits and personalities.

I think these things will help. And I am sure that there is more I can do. One thing that troubles me some is that in our family, there are some people who joke frequently about weight. I've mentioned it once or twice, but it has been a habit of theirs for decades and isn't going to change. I am not ready to cut them out of our lives or anything extreme like that. There is no question that all the good things from the family relationships far outweigh that (no pun intended).

I also question media exposure and some of the toys we allow in the house, superheroes for one (despite enjoying the occasional movie, they aren't the least bit interested in Barbie dolls). Again, it seems that the enjoyment and imaginative play that they have is more important than trying to limit their access.

Our bodies are beautiful. I want my children to always do what they can to be healthy, but to never despise themselves or others for their uniqueness. I want to learn more and more about this topic, and to be more mindful of what I am teaching my children. Advice is always welcome! How do you teach your children that they are wonderfully made?

Why Christians should Breastfeed in Public

Photo by zieak

I recently read a comment from Claire in Tasmania that made a deep impression on me. In reference to another mom bringing up the issue of modesty, she answered, "I've decided it's our ministry to nurse in church because
a) for those who 'don't know where to look' (which someone apparently said to the minister's wife) - it's a life skill they need to learn, and where better to learn it?
b) for everyone who reads passages in the Bible written by people who assume knowledge of breastfeeding ("like newborn babes crave pure spiritual milk"), there is so much more to the imagery there than just nutrition, yk? Peter's imagining that great big grin as your hungry baby sees that he's about to get what he wants, and the responsiveness of the relationship, and the bonding and the contented, milk-drunk smile at the end... If we don't provide that subconscious imagery, who will?"

Wow. It is only in the last few generations that so many people, male and female, have grown up *without* all of that beautiful imagery to form part of our understanding. The way a newborn, whether asleep or awake, will orient herself toward the breast. The peacefulness of a babe who has been satisfied. The frequency with which they want more (no place for scheduling here: "It has only been two hours since you read several Psalms. You have to wait another hour."). Gazing into each others' eyes, breathing in each others' scent. The trust and joy in relationship.

I think of passages like Isaiah 66:11-13 (New International Version)

11 For you will nurse and be satisfied
at her comforting breasts;
you will drink deeply
and delight in her overflowing abundance."

12 For this is what the LORD says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;
you will nurse and be carried on her arm
and dandled on her knees.

13 As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."

Verses like these have become so much richer to me since I've nursed my own children, seen their delight, held them in my arms, and comforted them. I imagine that this was the norm when the Bible was written, yet today breastfeeding has become something to do while hidden away in a bathroom stall, or under elaborate covers and blankets. Many people are unaware of the expressions and habits that nursing moms take for granted.

So, when you are out with your baby and she gets hungry, nurse her wherever you are. If you don't have nurslings of your own, encourage the moms around you with a smile and a kind word. You will be "doing unto the least of these" what Jesus would do, and may even discover some spiritual riches that you hadn't noticed before.

Nursing in Public: It's Not About Modesty

Last night we celebrated a family birthday, and my sister in law took pics of everyone. Of course, when she came around to me, the baby was nursing. Since I've been nursing at least one little one for the last 6 and a half years, no one was surprised. She posted the pics on Facebook later, and what did surprise me was that the first comment was from a sweet friend of hers who was concerned that I would be upset.

Bless her heart. I am sure that her motives are the best. She wasn't expressing outrage or offense or anything like that. But it really reminded me that in our society, for many people, it has nothing to do with modesty--merely the *act* of breastfeeding makes them uncomfortable.

In the interests of full-disclosure (sorry, lousy pun), I fully support a woman's right to be topless, if she desires. I bristle just a little when I hear people go on and on about nursing "discreetly". Who gets to decide if the woman is discreet enough, if not her? The Taliban? What if the baby wriggles while latching or unlatching and spectators catch a glimpse of *gasp* nipple?! There might be innocent children present! Besides the nursling, of course. We must reserve public display of breasts to advertising cars, perfume and other things--that is what they are designed for, after all. Oh. Wait...

However, like the other breastfeeding moms I know, when it comes to real-life nursing in public, it is just normal life for us. Where I go, my baby goes. If we are there for any length of time, she is likely to get hungry. When she is hungry, she nurses. That is it. I don't try to draw attention to what we are doing, any more than a bottle-feeding mom would stand on a table to proclaim her intentions. It is just what we do.

In the picture that provoked the lady's concern, there was no skin showing. I was actually looking over at our son who was goofing around and making faces. Yet because I was breastfeeding there was concern that it should be private (despite the fact that the photo was taken in a restaurant).

We have a very long way to go in our society. Many moms choose not to breastfeed, in part because of the misconception that they would have to remain housebound in order to feed the baby. Boobies and babies are both portable, and much easier than bottles (not to mention there is less clean up involved!). My state, and most others, have laws asserting that a woman has the right to breastfeed anywhere she can legally go. It can't become "normal" in our culture unless it is normal for us.

A fashion rant

Those of you who know me in real life are probably giggling incredulously already. I am one of the least qualified people in the world to demonstrate any knowledge of or regard for fashion. Until I graduated from college, I basically lived in baggy T-shirts and jeans. Once I began teaching, my wardrobe was a simple rotation of black and khaki slacks with some solid colored blouses. I could probably sum things up by saying that my interest in shoes is so minimal that the only heels I have are ones my mother passed on to me about 14 years ago, and that they have been supplemented by a pair of brown sandals and one of black for summer, as well as a pair each of black and brown boots for winter (the brown boots were also given to me, around twelve years ago).

I appreciate other people who dress well. I am not sure exactly what caused my own fashion sense to become so terribly stunted. I could blame homeschooling, or not having extra money to keep up with trends while I was growing up, but I've met many homeschooled and/or not-wealthy families that are stylishly dressed. I think it is something similar to my issue with depth perception. I just don't have an eye that puts things together that way.

So what has aroused my ire? Maternity clothes. Now, I know that if I were willing to shop at better stores (aka pay more money) I would have more options. But, this is most likely my last pregnancy, and I don't particularly want to invest a lot of money in clothes that I will only wear for a few months. I've been able to use a lot of stuff that I had before, but two of the previous pregnancies ended in winter, and I am not the same size as I was in the summer one. At home, I tend to wear extra large mens' T-shirts and sleep pants, but unfortunately, that is not considered acceptable professional attire for work. With the warm weather I've been looking for short-sleeved shirts, and my temperature has risen even higher.

I found a few blouses that had nice fabric and colors that I liked OK, but the cut! They resembled doll clothes from several decades past. I tried a couple on and looked like an extremely large two year old. Puffy little sleeves, ruffles, bows--ick. I found some others that had a more adult style, but it was a bit...too adult. Perhaps I should add that I am extremely generously endowed across the bosom. Lactation has nothing to do with size, but if it did, I could nurse septuplets with ease. I am used to having to adjust for that. As I tried on top after top in assorted sizes, they either had weird lines that came only half way down my chest, bisecting my boobs horizontally, or they were so low cut that I could have breastfed my kidlets without even adjusting my shirt at all. Yes, I am an outspoken lactavist, but I don't need to be virtually topless to do it! I even found several shirts that managed to combine all three offenses--baby doll touches with a plunging neckline still meant for someone with smaller breasts.

Finally, I just started looking in the plus size section. Some of the same problems were present there, too, of course, but I found two very reasonably priced blouses that fit perfectly and were comfortable. It was a start, at least. I need another pair of pants, though. I have a black pair that fit, but need a brown or beige pair. Who knows, maybe I might get wild and branch out. Anyone want to be a fashion consultant for me? Allow me to add that if you nominate me for What Not to Wear, I would be far more grateful than humiliated. :)

Why I will never have The Talk with my kids

Photo credit by Leo Reynolds on Flickr

On the message boards where I post there have often been questions about when to have The Talk with children. Frequently, the children in question are already past the average age for puberty. I realize that this is an uncomfortable topic for many families, but in our home, we've decided to never have a big, single conversation about sex with our kids. Instead, we consider it our responsibility to them to teach them from birth about their sexuality, just as we teach them about God, about character qualities we want them to develop and everything else that is important to us.

One of the first things we have done is teach them the correct names of all their body parts. Research actually shows that this helps protect kids from sexual abuse. I am not sure why, but I would think that being able to talk about it openly is a big reason. Children are less likely to think it is their fault and more likely to speak up if they know the correct words (and if their parents don't act as if there is something dirty about even naming those parts). I am sure that they will hear cutesy names from friends and others, but we've been teaching them the proper terms along with knees, elbows, ears and all their other body parts.

Earlier this week, Elena was running around sans diaper (she apparently has decided that she doesn't want to wear one anymore. The good side to this is that she has actually started using her little potty chair some of the time.) Joel glanced over and remarked, "Elena doesn't have a penis. Oh, yeah. She's a girl. Girls have a vulva instead, right?" It was very matter of fact. Ariana knows that the inside part where nobody can see is the vagina, and the outside part that is visible is the vulva. Both she and Joel know that the baby is growing in my uterus, not the stomach where their food goes.

We've answered any questions they have honestly (and as simply and age-appropriately as possible). One of my parenting soap-boxes is that lying to children is never OK, and I've heard some pretty absurd lies on the whole topic of where babies come from by some parents (cabbage patch or stork, anyone?).

Rather than saving it all up for one tense, embarrassing coversation later on, we find moments during every day conversations to share our values and practical information. Of course, it doesn't have to be tense or embarrassing, but I think it is much easier to be comfortable when it is part of daily life.

Ariana loves the show iCarly. When dating has been a topic on a particular episode, we've talked about it. She knows that I think it is better to wait until you are much older and to develop a strong friendship first. The conversations are usually brief and not too serious or heavy, but they are frequent enough that as she gets older, I believe she will have both the desire and confidence to keep talking with us.

I've heard a lot of modesty teaching that seems to be a way to blame women for the moral failings of some men, and I want both my daughters and sons to take responsibility for their own actions and reactions. That said, I also find much of the sleazy, pseudo-sexy clothing marketed to young girls (haven't seen that for boys clothes yet) to be absolutely nauseating. Part of respecting your body means dressing with self-respect, and I refuse to buy or allow my daughters to wear clothing that was apparently designed by pedophiles who want little kids to look sexy. 

I'm not saying that preschoolers should know how to put on a condom, of course. At the same time, I think that parents should speak to their kids before their peers do, and that is often much earlier than parents wish. (As an aside, when did you first start hearing about sexual topics from friends? I remember hearing vague comments in first and second grade! When I was eight, a friend asked if we could lay down naked on top of each other because that was how you make babies and she wanted a baby. There was nothing truly sexual in her desire--she just thought a live baby would be cool, and didn't know the mechanics involved, or that both of us being girls would make a difference!)

I taught K-12 at conservative Christian schools for five years. In that time, sixth graders were talking about (and in some cases actually performing) oral sex. I've also heard from older kids who saw this as a way around "real" premarital sex. They were completely unaware of the possible emotional or physical consequences involved.

Which brings me to another point--so many parents just want to tell their kids not to have sex. I am very grateful to my parents, who consistently made it clear that sex was an incredible, wonderful, pleasurable gift. There was never any sense that it was bad or shameful--on the contrary, it was designed by God for us to enjoy! (And for those who are afraid that this might lead to wanting to experiment early, it actually gave me even more reason to wait until marriage before unwrapping this gift).

So, we won't be having The Talk. We make it a practice just to talk, all the time. And, if they don't ask, we tell them anyway, just like we would about our beliefs on anything important. We are wonderfully made--all parts of us, and they need to know that.

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This post eventually sparked a series about how we teach our children about sexuality.  As parents, we have an incredible responsibility.  We need to give our children accurate, age-appropriate information, not only on the physical aspects of sexuality, but also on the emotional and spiritual ramifications.  I hope you will join us in this discussion with your comments, links, ideas and stories.  For related posts, click here.

Wonderfully Made

Happy 2010! 'Tis the season, of course, for resolutions, and for women, it seems to be expected that many of those will involve our bodies and attempting to transform them into The American Ideal for 2010, or at least prevent them from getting any further from The Ideal than they are already.

Being healthy is always a good goal, but the longer I live, the more incensed I become at our culture's insistence that God really did a lousy job of creating women. Ina May Gaskin makes excellent points about the whole "the-female-body-is-a-lemon" mindset that pervades the medical profession. We lament the problem that so many of us have with self-image, but it is little wonder when we are told constantly that we are physical failures.

Very few women that I know naturally fit the shape that our current culture appreciates. However, looking back a few decades is a good reminder at how capricious this is. I would never make it with the Twiggy look--I'm much more the 1950's curvy type. I have gorgeous friends who would actually fit more naturally into the '70s, though. And if you are prepared to look outside the US for standards of feminine beauty, or simply to art from a century or two ago, you'll find an even wider range. Interestingly, it seems to always favor the wealthy (those who can afford more food/better food/gym memberships/servants), and often involves incapacitating the woman (think of things like corsets or bound feet).

It isn't just beauty standards, either. Two of the things that are unique to women--child birth and breastfeeding--have also been denigrated and medicalized until most women believe themselves incapable of either. Our current C-section rate is 1 in 3. Now, I am grateful that they are an option when medically warranted, but do we seriously believe that one out of three women is incapable of giving birth normally? Really? Even an uncomplicated vaginal birth is assumed to be a death-defying act where only an epidural and a range of high-tech equipment and specialists keep the woman and child safe from betrayal by her incompetent body.

Breastfeeding rates are also dismal. Of course, there are many reasons for that, but it is appalling to me how many women truly want to breastfeed and yet are told that they can't make enough milk/their milk isn't good enough/their breasts are too big/too small/whatever. We are convinced that cows are better at nourishing our human babies than their human mothers. Do we honestly believe that God created plants and animals and it was good, but when He got to women He messed up so catastrophically?

Go back and read the beginning of Genesis. Not just men, but male and female are created in God's image. I think that our Bible translations and our culture often give us the false impression that God is male. Yes, we use the masculine pronouns, and yes, He appeared on Earth as a man, but He is Spirit. He isn't male, or rather, He is male and female. He is complete. (The Aztecs and many other peoples realized this).

Now, a few people are probably ready to grab some stones and charge me with heresy, but the Bible actually uses intensely feminine imagery at times when referring to God. Aside from the Genesis account that straightforwardly declares that both male and female were made in God's image, Deuteronomy 32:18, exhorting God's people to turn back to Him, talks about the God who writhed (or danced!) in the act of giving birth to them, although that is obscured in the KJV. There are other passages, as well, not to mention beautiful references to breastfeeding throughout the Bible.

Our female bodies, that have been condemned as incompetent by our culture, are actually gloriously, wonderfully made. So this year, as you consider steps to improve the amazing design we've been given, consider what a beautiful woman you are. God made your body. And it is good.

Hair today, gone tomorrow?

Photo by Betssssssy on Flickr

Summer is here, and it is time to break out the tank tops, swim suits and other hot-weather survival gear...and maybe the razor?

This is a dilemma I face every summer season now. Oh, for the innocent days of my youth when I naively assumed that being able to shave was a cool part of being grown up. I actually liked the idea back then. Of course, that was a couple of decades ago. I also wore hose/tights at times then, and had sensory issues that made the prickle of hair underneath them absolutely awful. As I've grown, I've come to see pantyhose as a demonic device, much the way most people nowadays would view torture relics from the Inquisition, and have found my freedom.

I am somewhat ambivelent, however, about embracing life as a hirsute hippy. Now, since I've had kids, I've naturally progressed towards a more, er, natural lifestyle in many respects, anyway. We practice child-led weaning, cloth diaper, don't vaccinate or circ, and generally go along with many of the other tenets of those who appreciate the way our bodies are designed. When my oldest daughter asked me why I shaved my legs, I had no satisfactory answer.

I am not usually one to do things just because "everyone else" is doing it. Besides, I have enough friends in enough places to know that not everyone finds the absence of hair more attractive.

Despite my preference for natural childbirth, I am a total wimp and would never consider anything like waxing or any other form of hair removal that could possibly involve pain, however fleeting or minor. I am sensitive to the chemicals in dipilatories, so those are out. Which leaves only a razor, and I get razor burn easily.

Somehow, though, I admit to a mild asthetic preference for smooth, hairless skin. And, TMI perhaps, but I find it easier to smell fresh and ladylike without a ton of hair, also more of a consideration when it is 100+ degrees outside.

But, I am also lazy, and not inclined to shave daily, anyhow. And with three kidlets, time alone in the bathroom is rare enough that I don't want to commit to the upkeep.

So most of the time, I compromise. I shave under my arms frequently in summer, and occasionally but not always my knees and below if they will be visible/I plan on swimming.  I won't go into details about more personal areas except to say that the occasional trim with scissors is the most I'll do there (see previous comments on waxing, et al. Ouch! I crossed my legs just thinking of it).

Yet, as I consider items to pack for this summer's trip, I sigh inwardly and wonder why, and even if, I should bother to pack a razor. Would I feel differently if I had grown up in a culture where women didn't normally shave? It is interesting to think about all the little things that go into beauty rituals across time and place. Which ones are worth passing on to my daughter?

Modesty and other questions. What are your answers?

Once again, dear readers, I am soliciting your insight and opinions. How do you teach your children about modesty? What are your own thoughts on the subject? Is it important to you? Why or why not? Does intent matter? Culture? Age? Gender? Family vs. public?

I'm still mulling the topic, and so my thoughts are very scattered. As far as personal experience goes, I never recall either parent dressing in a way meant to be sexually provocative. My dad always wore clothes around us, at least underwear, although my mother was comfortable being undressed around us. Since her mother never even explained menstruation to her, I think she made an effort to be open with us about our bodies. Still, growing up, a lot of things didn't make sense to me.

For one thing, it seemed to me that the rules were very one-sided (guys didn't have nearly the restrictions girls did!), and it varied so much from one culture to another that I became pretty skeptical of the idea that any particular region, or any particular time in history, had the perfect standards. It obviously wasn't necessarily about the amount of skin showing, because girls were supposed to wear dresses or skirts (or, culottes!--and I am just guessing at the spelling, since I've never seen the word in print). For climbing trees and most of my other preferred activities, jeans would clearly seem to be more appropriate to me.

I remember once, when I was six, we had a little plastic wading pool in our backyard. I wanted my friend to swim with me, but she wasn't allowed to wear a bathing suit, because they were immodest. Instead, she wore a dress. I was totally bewildered. How could anyone swim in a heavy dress with a full skirt? Why would they? To be sure, the pool was maybe a foot deep and six feet in diameter, if that, so I wasn't going to be swimming laps, either, but still...

As an adult, I dress to please myself and my husband. I generally choose not to wear shorts or short skirts, but it is more for aesthetic reasons than modesty. The idea of anyone looking lustfully on my chubby, white knees is frankly ludicrous. I prefer not to wear clothing that is super-tight for comfort reasons, although, again, clearly defining my rolls and cellulite is not likely to cause my brother to stumble.

In balance to that, my breasts, which were, um, bountiful to begin with, have grown even more since pregnancy and breastfeeding. It is exceedingly difficult to find any shirt that will adequately cover them, especially one that I can nurse in. Furthermore, I don't consider breastfeeding immodest, and will nurse anywhere my baby needs to eat. I can't think off hand of any place where I haven't nursed my kids. I don't use blankets. I was once given a nice Hooter Hider-type cover, but Ariana got hot and the flapping attracted far more attention than simply moving my shirt a little.

In so many places, it is perfectly fine for little girls to go topless, especially if they haven't yet developed breast buds. I find that much healthier than the sexualized view here that has them wearing slogans or styles that are overtly provocative, even if they cover more skin. I was actually relieved and perfectly comfortable when we visited beaches in Spain because no one cared if I was topless. (For the curious out there, I did wear a tank top).

So far, all of my kidlets have shown a distinct preference for nudity. This was great for potty-learning. Around three years of age, we started requiring underwear if guests might be present. At five, I'm still fine with Ariana taking off her shirt. She loves to dress up in different outfits everyday, so we rarely have to guide her there. Joel still prefers shoes to pants. They all still love family baths and haven't shown the least bit of self-consciousness if they see us undressed. I'm sure this will change, and as soon as they or we get uncomfortable, we'll start covering up more.

I want each of my children to have a healthy respect for the specialness of their bodies. I don't want them to rely on their appearance to attract others, but instead to make sure that they are beautiful on the inside. It is, however, a difficult topic to navigate, because so much seems to be based on each family's perspective and comfort level. I like clear rules and regulations (well, unless they inconvenience me, of course). But room for differing views and opinions is good, right? I look forward to hearing yours.