mama stuff

Having a toddler is a lot like entering a room intending to snuggle with someone... and having the other person enter intending to be in a WWF match.

Its thrilling, frustrating, so fun. And occasionally painful!

I can't wait to see what kind of woman Gwen becomes, but at the same time I wonder, can I just keep her young forever, so I don't have to worry about how the world will influence her. I read this article recently and I just have to shake my head. I always want my girl to be proud of herself, and of her body, but for its strength and endurance more then its sex appeal. I want her to be confident, and comfortable in her appearance, but without being trampy. How do you teach your daughter the true value of her person?

I ache to give Gwen the building blocks to become the absolute best version of herself. To find contentment, fulfillment, happiness... with herself and life. To not sell herself short. To find real love with a wonderful person who thinks she is the world, because she has the confidence to know that is what she deserves. I hope I am up to the challenge, I'm scared sometimes that I'm going to fail her.


On a lighter note, another mama thing I've read recently and must share... this hilarious prayer for a daughter by Tina Fey. Have you seen? (Minus the tattoo part, of course.)

The Mother's Prayer for Its Daughter
by Tina Fey

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered,
May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half
And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the nearby subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock N’ Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.

Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes
And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.
Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long,
For Childhood is short- a Tiger Flower blooming
Magenta for one day-
And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever,
That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers
And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister,
Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,
For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,
That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted,
bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck.
“My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental note to call me. And she will forget.
But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

I so love me some Tina Fey. That woman is the right combination of smart, funny, and touching (that last paragraph makes me tear up).

For now, I'm enjoying my work from home day... with all the windows thrown open to catch the lovely breezes (in the 70s!) and air the house out. I suppose I should get back to it.