Princess and the Pea

The Hairbrush

“I’m just so happy with my new hairbrush,” Rosie said as we drove home from Target last evening.

This is it, I thought. Here is one of those subtle clues that your almost 11-year old is starting to pay attention to her body. It is a nice hairbrush indeed, all $5.49 of it: white and pearly blue, soft plastic pillowy handle, bristles that move in and out of its cushioned orb. I could hear her in the back seat stroking her brunette mane and coveting her new possession. We were listening to Harry Potter 4 (again), the scene where Hermione is cast a spell by Draco Malfoy that gives her beaver teeth. There is no discussion during these rides, so Rosie’s comment about the brush stood out.

I tend to joke that I’ve got jocks for girls when I myself was a creative type, took ballet for eons in a pre-Title 9 era, and have always had zero hand-eye-ball coordination. No skirts, dresses for them – I know not to waste a penny on anything in the pink to purple color range. Just as well. I remind myself that keeping girls in sports during adolescence is a protective factor for self-esteem – it’s the sports arena vs. hanging out at the town pizza parlor or local malls. Keeps girls out of trouble.

Rosie is quite modest, too. She knows she has beautiful hair, but keeps it in a pony tail at all times – as if letting her hair flow across her shoulders would be too much self-exposure. I suppose another sign of maturation might be when she actually leaves her hair down that a crush on some boy has emerged.

I keep these observations quiet and like to note them here for fear of missing the transition while life is fairly calm and the summer days are lolling by. Fifth grade is upon her and I’m sure the year will bring with it some growing pains.

It’s funny that I thank the Harry Potter series… the books on CD (not the movie versions) for the nuanced descriptions of the Hogwarts gang. If it weren’t for Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Neville, I’m not sure what sort of heads-up Rosie might have about the middle school years. I laugh out loud at the Jim Dale narration along with Rosie and occasionally it brings to mind my early teens, the first dance, and other better-to-be-forgotten tales of growing up an awkward kid.

(Weren’t we all, really?)

Airport Pulp

Every once in a while when at an airport too early for a flight I’ll indulge at the news stand and buy a few magazines.  I don’t tend to have fashion or sports magazines lying around at home broadcasting perfect bodies and unrealistic beauty standards.  Can’t help it.  I’m too familiar with the research that shows that women experience lower body dissatisfaction a mere 15 minutes after exposure to such publications and that the longer you keep kids away from popular media the better their self esteem. 

On the other hand, I like to keep up with the latest celeb gossip, health trends, movie or book reviews, because it’s also important to know the pulse of current cultural fads. So I decided to randomly choose 3 magazines I wouldn’t normally pick up:   Wired, Teen, and Cookie (never had heard of it – it’s a parenting magazine not recipes).

I guess it wasn’t so random because I was inspired to get Cookie because one of the features screamed out at me, “Why are you so tired?”

I perused them over the next three hours.  The sleep article, while well written by this freelancer who likely got a freebie trip to the spa, Miraval, for a sleep clinic consultation, did not gleam any new information for me since I pretty much teach the cognitive behavioral approach to life stress anyway. And, of course, one’s sleep is an obvious causality of stress.  But who actually practices what they preach? Since I suffer from chronic insomnia I thought there might be some new gem I could gleam.  I pretty much ticked off all of the following sleep hygiene to-do’s – been there, done that.

√ Hormonal cycles affect sleep, especially a rise in body temp that happens in women ALL THE TIME along with their menstrual patterns, pregnancies, and natural aging – so no relaxing baths at the end of a long day. (I’m probably peri-menopausal so no hope on body heat issue until I’m too old to care.)

√ Exercise releases endorphins that help stabilize mood – but don’t exercise too late in the day. (Exercise?)

√ Cut caffeine to one cup a day.  (Gave up coffee years ago to rid myself of the accompanying muffin – but give up my sometimes twice-daily, engine boosting Chai? Never.)

√ Write down worries at night, make check lists, release the frets, and replace rumination with pleasant distractions. (Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t – especially when my kids swipe the pen and pad to doodle or write threats to one another.)

√ Have time before bed to relax (Well, it helps if someone else does the laundry and cleanup).

√ A bedtime routine is just as important for grownups as it is for kids. (Duh.)

√ A snack of carbs – like cereal with milk – is an Ok evening snack because carbs and milk both release tryptophan, which can help sleep. (Ok, a new nutritional fact for me, but I often snack on cereal at night as it is since I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.)

Bottom line: Until cloning or robotics is perfected and I can have another ME around, sleep is out.  Which brings me to technology.

I then opened Wired magazine (April) and I think I am a convert.  I found many new and interesting things that I simply was not aware of on the technology side of things.  For instance, there is a new advertising medium out there call hypersonic sound, where you can hear voices or music in some specific location where the sound is beamed only to where you are situated… You literally hear voices without any reference point. What would my former psychiatric patients think of this?

Also, there is a new gadget for women – some kind of “smart bra”.  I’m afraid I am going to have to quote (page 034): “Even small breasts can bounce up to 3 inches during exercise, causing significant discomfort.  Researchers in Australia are using motion capture to design a bra that dynamically adjusts cups and strap stiffness as a woman moves around.”  Wow.  I appreciated the reference to small breasts.

This led me to Teen, a quarterly magazine.  The spring issue is the “Guy Guide.”  I sort of found myself appalled from the moment I opened it and read the intro about how to “catch your crush,” “have the perfect hair,” and “see how you can become an even better version of you.”  Thank god it's not a monthly magazine.  The section on puberty was not too bad and there was a whole page on boobs: hairy nipples, uneven size, tenderness, and yes, the flat chest anxiety (page 91): “If you know you are eating healthy and are a good weight for your shape, just relax.  Whether you end up with lovely A-cups or curvy D-cups, you’ll get there in your own good time.” (Well, I’m still waiting – a time frame would help). This brought me back to the smart bra.  Now what if those Australians add in a shape morpher for the type of clothes one wears?  That could eliminate the bizarre trend of parents giving their high school senior daughters a breast augmentation for graduation.

So what about creating "even a better version" of you? For starters, how about liking the original one?

Nails with Daisies

My 10-year old Rosie loves the funny pages in the Sunday paper.  But what caught her eye today was large illustration in the Ideas section depicting three tweens looking disgusted at a TV set. Of course I had already blurted out, “What’s this about?”

It was an article by Ty Burr, a media critic, entitled She Did What? It was the perfect conversation piece over pancakes. The tag line was:  “As one starlet after another goes off the rails, what kind of example are they setting for American girls? Maybe a good one. Meet a new cultural force: the anti-role model.”

When I asked her what she thought the point of the article was she had a hard time articulating it, even though her reading comprehension is advanced.  So she settled on the part about Lindsey Lohan and the photo of her passed out “after a hard night of partying.”  The photo is ugly and confusing for a little girl who had just seen “The Parent Trap” remake a few months ago.  How could that be the same girl?

I had to explain to both she and her sister what “partying” meant in this context. So we talked about stars and glamour and the not-so glamorous things about a life in the lime light.  This is much harder for my seven year old to understand.  She’s the kid who intuitively picks up on every nuance about what is cool (see snowboarding post).  She and I had gone together for the first time to have our nails done just two days prior.  This is something my mother never did with me. (Why spend the money? She was an Avon Lady after all and could do these things for us herself.  Never mind the idea of having a treat, a bit of self-indulgence, or some mother-daughter bonding out in the big world.)  I’m now getting to a place, just shy of 43, to allow myself to enjoy these kinds of extravagances -- my manicure was $12 and Adele's cost $7. 

Recently, a colleague of mine called an impromptu business meeting at a nail salon and three of us talked shop over a manicure and a pedicure. The idea of it was shocking to me but I never said a word. But it made me think that it would be nice to look at polished toes while doing yoga, the only time I get to myself while at the same time being shoeless.

I was surprised ad Adele’s reaction to our outing, I confess.  She chose a mint green polish and wanted polka dots. She had to settle for white daisies on the nails of each ring finger.  It was the first time in a long time that she sat still.  Later that evening she twirled about and squealed, “My body feels different!”  How so? (I had to ask, of course -- couldn’t let her bask in her new found glory of feeling pretty without an explanation.)  “I just dooooooo!”

It wasn’t just about adornment for Adele. She felt it in her whole being and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. So I let it go and just enjoyed the moment with her.  Yet, she clearly had some notion of these green little nails and a sense of herself -- her self- image -- as different than it had been just a few hours before.  She was pleased with herself.  That was it.  She was pleased with her body.

What a concept.

P.S.  See Letter to My Body project at Blogher.