New Year's Resolutions

Tomorrow is the last day of the year.  The last day to fulfill those resolutions we all made on January 1.  And the day to resolve we will REALLY fulfill our resolutions for next year.

So, what were yours?  Did you forget them on January 2?  Do you have new ones?

I made no resolutions last year.  I knew I already had too much to worry about….getting married, moving, figuring out what to do with my condo that I owe too much on to sell in these economic times, and helping my vehemently-hate-changes son to accept all these changes!

This year, I want to relax more.  Unfortunately, I have no idea how to accomplish this.  I work full+ time.  I’m a mom to a kid who plays sports, which means many hours at sports practices and games.  I’m involved with his school.  I am very picky about what we eat and cook most things from scratch.  I found myself getting all stressed out yesterday, a Saturday on which I had nothing I HAD to do, worrying about what I needed to do on Wednesday!  I have boxes I still need to unpack from moving in March, bathrooms that need to be cleaned, laundry that needs to be done.  I went into my son’s room today to gather all his PSP games and box them up (he got a new PSVita for Christmas, and trade in cost on the games is a joke!) to give to one of his friends and discovered a room that has been “cleaned” by shoving everything into random drawers and the closet, yet another chore for my list, albeit one that WILL get help from the room’s occupant.  I seriously only sleep about 5 hours a night, except for those rare days about once a month where I will sleep till people wake me up to feed them.  When am I supposed to have time to relax?

I know, I know, I need to make the time.  I just wish I had the ability to MAKE time, you know, add extra hours to the day! 

I think I’m just going to have to set a time.  9:00 PM, OK, STOP!  But the laundry might not be dry, and the dirty dishes might still be in the sink….  ACCKKK, I’ll just not be able to sleep worrying about that!

Hopefully I’ll find a way to do this, I need it!  And that’s really why they have wine!

 

Trust Your Instincts

All children are defiant, it’s part of being a kid, and discovering your limits.

All children do not have meltdowns daily.  All children do not throw things at you for an hour while screaming.  All children do not get so overwhelmed by their daily homework that it takes them 3 hours to complete it, after arguing with you and crying, and arguing and crying again.

If this is your case, DO NOT LET FAMILY, OR EVEN PROFESSIONALS, TELL YOU THAT “HE’S JUST A BOY” OR “SHE’S HIGH SPIRITED.”  Trust me, you are often the ONLY advocate for your child.  And you have to take on that role.

I’ve been reading some articles on ADD/ADHD that have been breaking my heart.  You are NOT a bad parent if your child had these problems.  It’s a hereditary neurological disorder.  One that is real.  One that is hurting your child even more than it is hurting you.  One that can be treated.

There will be naysayers.  Even the people closest to you in your life.  But it’s your CHILD.  Please help them.

And if it takes a while to convince anyone (again, trust me, it can!) that something is wrong, in the meantime, establish a routine.  Create structure.  Follow through on all consequences.  Let your child know what to expect. (I used to even have to let my son know the week’s dinner menu to make him feel comfortable!) Talk to their teachers about school problems.   And understand.  Understand they are frustrated, that they may feel bad about themselves, that their social development is most likely behind (up to 2 or 3 years) other kids their age. And find ways to deal with that.

And above all, keep in mind how truly unique and special your child is.  I wouldn’t trade mine for anything.  Ok, so in the middle of a meltdown I may want to, but I get over it.  Wine.  Wine.  Yep, that's why they have wine!

 

Would You Say That To My Face?

I love the internet.  I love being able to reach out to people far away in an instant and the ability find out any information I need, from a recipe for lasagna to how to fix a leaking toilet to hypochondriacally (if that is not a real word, too bad) diagnosing myself or a family member, just a few keystrokes away.

However, as with everything, with the good comes the bad.

My 11-year old got a PS Vita for Christmas.  With it, he can play games online against others.  He is good at video games and good at sports, and when playing a sports video game, well, watch out!  He has trouble in school due to his learning disabilities, so he takes a lot of pride in how well he does with the things he excels in.

He is currently at his dad’s for a week, and took the PS Vita with him.  About an hour and a half ago, I got a phone call.  It was my son, speaking in a tone of voice that I knew meant he was about to burst out into tears.  I asked him what was wrong, and he said “Nothing.”  I told him I could tell by hearing him he was upset, and asked was there something he wanted to talk about.  He hung up on me.  That would be Aiden-speak for “Yes, there is something very wrong!”

I called him back.  When he finally picked up the phone, I could hear his dad speaking to him in the background in an exasperated tone, with his last words being “you need to talk to your mom.”  I asked Aiden what he needed to be talking to me about.  “Nothing.”  The most I could get out of him was he wanted to come home, with boredom being his excuse.  I told him I was only asking him what was wrong because I was worried about him because he sounded like he was going to cry, not because he was in trouble for anything.  I told him I loved him.  I told him that if there was something bothering him, I didn’t mind listening at any time, he can even call me at work.  He said “Ok, well talk to you tomorrow.”

I texted his dad….apparently Aiden was in the middle of a huge meltdown, had been throwing things and yelling and said he was going to sell his video games on ebay.  His dad still doesn’t fully understand the ADD and sensory processing issues and I think he was overwhelmed himself , which unfortunately can just make things worse.  Eventually his dad was able to calm him and Aiden apologized.  Turns out the tantrum started over a game of football being played online.

“Did someone message him something?” I asked his dad.  He doesn’t like to lose, and will pout, but full blown meltdowns occur when he is overwhelmed:  with sensory issues, with crowds, with too many thoughts, with emotions...  He hasn’t had one in almost a year.  His dad didn’t realize that he could get messages, and hadn’t asked, but said “Ooohhh!”  We’re pretty sure that is what happened, someone was mean.

People are mean online.  I’ve already previously taken away Xbox live and we’ve gone through and unfriended some of his Facebook “friends” for the same reason.  People say things online they would never say directly to you.  I’ve stepped away from message boards for the same reason…my very first encounter with one made ME cry, all I was doing was factually answering a question someone asked, and it was a DISNEY message board!  People tell you that you are stupid, that you are a terrible parent, a terrible person in general…..

I’m all for discussion and debate, I actually really enjoy that.  But discussion and debate takes into account that we are all unique individuals, and respects the fact that we can have differing opinions and still be OK.  You know, like we treat people in discussions when they are seated across from us.  Even if they are strangers.  If I wouldn’t say it to your face, I’m not going to say it online.  Especially if there is the chance you might be a child.

I told his dad I’d talk to Aiden tomorrow when he’s had a chance to “step back.”  His dad is taking away playing online right now.   Hopefully we’ll get this worked out, and somehow find a way to get him to just brush off what other people say online because it IS fun for him most of the time to play other people.

I just hate not being there and being able to tell Aiden everything is OK and I love him. 

And, well, that’s why they have wine.  And nephews who can tell me if there is a way to turn off the messaging part….

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!

About 11-1/2 years ago, I went into premature labor at the end of my second trimester.  I was given medication and put on bedrest, and was able to delay him for a while, but that little boy wasn’t going to wait.  My son was born at 29-1/2 weeks.  He has been early for everything ever since.

To him, if he is not early, he is late.  There is no such thing as on time.  We are always the first to baseball practice and games.  To birthday parties.  To appointments.

School starts at 8:00, and the students are not allowed out of the car at school until 7:30 each morning, but if I am not in the car line by 7:20, he is in a panic.  One of these days, the fact that I forgot something and had to run back in the house is  going to give him a heart attack.

He really can't wait for Christmas.  I had already agreed to let him have gifts from my husband and I early tomorrow since he will be leaving for his dad’s for a week on Christmas day.  Today he found a way to make it come even earlier.  We were playing basketball in the driveway, and he asked “If I make it from here (a spot in the neighbor’s yard) with my eyes closed, can I open a gift early?”  Thinking there was no chance he’d do it, I agreed.  Swoosh…in it went!  He shook a few packages for the hundredth time and  picked out a gift from under the tree.

He is now happily setting up his PS Vita.  Two days before Christmas.  I should have better disguised the underwear!

I may not get to see the big thrill Christmas morning now, but at least for the moment I am not listening to incessant questions about what time he can open gifts.  That is, until he wakes up bright and early in the morning wanting the rest of them…If he had his way, Christmas would have been a week ago.

And that’s why they have wine.

Life WIth a Middle Schooler

My son lied to me today.  A couple of them, one a lie of omission, one a big made up story.

This is my “button.”  The thing that makes me feel  like the worst mom in the world.  How can I, someone who couldn’t lie to save her life, have a kid that lies to her?

I was watching my son’s friend for the day while his mom was at work.  They asked if they could walk down to the river, which is half a block from the house and safely WAY up on a steep hill from the actual water, to look for alligators (the gators can’t climb straight up!).  I gave them permission and off they went.  Twenty minutes later, they returned, with my son telling me, “You might need to get out your car keys.”

“What?! What happened?”

“Well, the remote control Mustang, well it wouldn’t go through the dirt, so I picked it up and tripped over a root and it’s in the river.”

Um, there are no toys, or other possessions, allowed out of the house without permission.  Apparently this fact was forgotten.  “WHY was the remote control car at the river?”

Aiden replied that his friend wanted to take it.  “Again, I ask, why was it at the river?  You are not supposed to take things places without permission.  It’s IN the river, or on the bank?”

“I don’t know Mom, I’m sorry.  It’s half in the river.  But we can’t get to it, it’s too far down.”

“Why did you tell me to get my keys?”

“Nevermind.”

“Why did you tell me to get my keys?”

“I thought you’d take us to the store to get another one.”

“Another one?  Really?  Consequences.  You owe me 3 weeks allowance to pay for it, and any other possession that leaves the house without you asking, I don’t care if it’s your Kindle or PSP….it goes straight to Goodwill.”

“Ok.”

My husband came home soon after and saw the look on my face and asked what was wrong.  Told him about the incident, using the phrase “The STORY is…”  Yep, didn’t believe the whole tripped over a root thing.

When we were out with the boys tonight, they got in a playful argument which caused Aiden to say, apparently thinking I could not hear two feet away from me, “I’m telling my mom you drove the car in the river.”  I asked his friend, who promptly admitted that, yes, he had been using the remote control and the car went over the bank and….”AIDEN MADE UP THE STORY, I’M SORRY, I DON’T WANT TO BE IN TROUBLE!”  Had a discussion with both boys.  STORY is they made up the first story to keep his friend out of trouble.  Friend kept asking if I was mad.  I told both that I was not happy that they took the car to the river without permission and that they lied about it, but as the not taking things out of the house without permission was the rule for my son, that was the first rule broken and Aiden was to blame for that.

After dropping his friend off at home, discussed more with Aiden about lying.  He replied back in the “whatever” rude type of middle schooler reply, which of course just made me lecture more.

Aiden went to shower before bed, and asked my husband what he thought I should do about the lying.  He is Aiden’s stepfather of 9 months, and I think he (wrongly) feels he doesn’t have a say, and so he usually doesn’t just step in.  I wish he would more often, because he sees things that I’m blinded to by my emotions.  He told me that out of all the kids he’s seen and what he’s heard from other parents, the lying is a common problem at this age.  And that Aiden seems to have better behavior overall than most.  And, what I really needed to hear, that I’m a good mom.   But above all, he gave his observation that Aiden tunes things out after about a half a minute (um, yeah, I know that, but even if it’s coming from his MOM, LOL!), and that to be effective I need to keep what I say short and to the point.  And ALWAYS give consequences, not just discuss that something is wrong to do. That Aiden knows when he’s wrong, he needs me to “show” that I know that too instead of just saying it.  That when I do that, the problem goes away, for good.  He’s right.

Went to Aiden’s room to tell him goodnight, and said “I love you.  I love you always, no matter what you do.  But I think there needs to be consequences for lying.”

“I do too.”

Wow.  I need to sometimes get beyond that worry that everything means something bigger and look at it like my husband does.  Simple problem, simple solution.

His favorite new item is now taken away till Christmas.

Middle school years are hard.  That’s why they have wine.  Not for the middle schooler, but for me. And probably also the teachers.  And administrators.  And bus drivers.  And probably even the school landscapers.  Middle school is a hard time for everyone!

“

Why Do You Care What They Say?

My husband said he doesn’t know why other people’s opinions affect me so much.  And, well, most of the time they don’t.  But when it comes to how people react to a tragedy like the Connecticut shooting, it becomes somewhat personal to me.

You know how after all these tragedies there is some aunt or neighbor who talks to the media and says there was “something off” about the perpetrator?  You know, he didn’t have a lot of friends his age, he had some trouble in school, he was moody, he kept to himself, he was seeing a doctor, he was on medication?  And we all say, “OH….so he was a troubled kid, of course!”

My kid is sweet, sensitive, and smart.  He is friendly and well liked, and possesses a lot of good leadership qualities; he is even the president of his class. He is a great athlete and totally obsessed with baseball.  But he is also the kid in the previous paragraph.

He is the kid who has torn all the pages out of books and scattered them in his room.  He is the kid who has gotten upset at something completely unrelated to me and thrown something at me or punched me.  He is the kid who, when way past the two year old stage, has been carried, crying, screaming, and kicking and hitting me, out of Disney World, on more than one occasion, because he had a meltdown from sensory overload. He is the kid failing in school because he can’t write the answers down on paper.

I am the Mom who loves him to death.  Who sees every wonderful quality he has, and has fought to find out what causes the opposite ones.  I am the mom who sees a kid who is sensitive, and loves people and animals, and doesn’t like to see anyone get hurt, and the one that has come to realize that sometimes has to be treated different than your average kid to make him feel comfortable.

 I’ve spent years and years telling doctors and schools that I think something is wrong and asking for evaluations, and being turned down.  Years of stress dealing with issues no one else would acknowledge.  By chance I have a psychology degree and have worked in community mental health, and am the daughter of a special education teacher with a master’s degree.  Luckily, between the two of us we have a lot of expertise, expertise that has been put to practice, and has made him the kid that is most of the time happy, adjusted, and “normal.”  It was finally this summer, after convincing his pediatrician to make referrals for evaluations I paid for myself, I was able to get a diagnosis (Attention Deficit Disorder, sensory processing issues, probable Dyslexia) and medication.  Medication that makes people say I’m a bad mom for giving it to him, many of the same people blaming Adam Lanza’s mom for Friday’s events.  Medication that helps him focus and handle his frustration and impulses.

From what has been reported, Adam had Asperger’s, a mild form of autism.  He probably had many of the same personality quirks that my son does.  And his mother probably loved him to death and saw her son like I see mine…a sweet kid with some problems.  While that is not an excuse for the events, it is also not a reason to blame the mother.  The mother that was the first person killed.  The mother who I’m sure would not have guns accessible if she had any idea her son might use them on her.

I’m not sure people who do not have a child with special needs really have an idea of what it is to have one.  My son’s are minimal, and it’s hard as heck sometimes, I can’t even imagine the stress of having a child with greater needs.  The notion that people would completely ignore the fact that maybe there sometimes is something wrong that a mother, even the most amazing mothers on earth, can’t fix by themselves really bothers me.  Because if that is not acknowledged, it will never change. 

THAT’s why other people’s opinions on this matter affect me so much.  I want there to be the best possible resources for my son and for other parents like me.  I want people to be ok with the fact that peopIe’s brains are sometimes not wired right.  I want people to understand that if a parent is choosing to give their child medication, they do that after a lot of thought.  I want the stigma to stop keeping people from getting help.  I would never want my child to feel so frustrated that he found killing people and himself to be the way to feel better, and certainly do not want that for anyone else’s child.  I want people to realize that we need to look at WHY someone chooses to do something and not only look at the tools they choose to use.

And in the meantime, that’s why they have wine.

There Will Be Police at the Schools Tomorrow

There Will Be Police at the Schools Tomorrow

….And I don’t like it. 

If there is anything I’ve learned from having a naturally anxious child, it is to always keep things “normal” during a crisis or tragedy, otherwise you open the door for that thing to become the focus.  Out of the ordinary things bring not only questions, but very often fear.  As adults, we react that way, but we have better coping mechanisms.  That fear and anxiety can completely overwhelm a child.

It is not being announced in the media, but those officers will be there for an hour a day.  An hour.  I’m guessing at drop off time when they will be most visible to parents.   So…adults will be placated thinking we have some control over the random evil in the world, but our kids will be sitting there going “Why the heck are there police here?”  And if they’ve heard ANY little bit of the current events over the weekend, their next thought will be “Mom, take me home!”

I understand this tragedy scares parents.  It scares me.  But the Spock side of me tells me that the car I put my child in each day is more likely to be the cause of his death than a school intruder, and I don’t have a police escort around my vehicle to keep anyone else from getting in an accident with me.  Nor do I discuss the possibility of car crashes each time we get in, or discuss plans on what to do if we are in one.  If I did, I’d be thought of as a nutcase parent, and people would be right.

The events that occurred are very sad and scary.  It’s understandable that people want to do what they can to try to insulate their lives from such a thing.  Sometimes though, I think we need to step back and really figure out the underlying reasons things occur instead of just trying to put patches on to make things appear OK.

I read a blog today about mental illness, its stigmas, and ineffective ways of coping with it.  I’ve worked in this field, and it was spot on.  If you really want to help prevent tragedies like this, help others in society, and maybe even your own kids or family members, shift your focus.  Learn about it, and help to advocate for better treatment options.

Getting ready to deal with the effects of my child having to face effects of this tragedy tomorrow, because I have no control over what happens at school.  He goes to a charter school and not sure if they will also have police, but even if not, he’ll have to hear things from other kids whose parents don’t feel the same as me about shielding them from the news.  Like I said, my kid is naturally anxious, this won’t be a good thing.

And that’s why they have wine.

Confessions of a Procrastinator

I have not always been like this.  I usually have every single Christmas gift bought before Thanksgiving, the tree and decorations up the day after it, and would now be sitting relaxing, watching Rudolph or Santa Claus is Coming to Town, or whatever the special of the day is.

My big accomplishment so far this year….two little ceramic angels are sitting on the mantle.  Angels I bought a few weeks ago, set on the kitchen table, and finally took out of their packages a few days ago. 

I don’t have anywhere to put my Christmas decorations or tree.  I got married and moved into my husband’s house 9 months ago.  I still have unpacked boxes everywhere. I haven’t been able to set up my desk because I can’t get to it.  The junk in the garage is multiplying, because when I can’t find something, I go buy another (we have enough school supplies now to last through 2020). My dining room table is covered in a huge photo framing project I started and haven’t finished, because whenever I work on it I feel guilty for not unpacking.  I don’t even want to think about how many gifts I still need to get.  And I probably won’t be able to find the ones I already have.

So, a week and a half ago I decided to tackle the office.  If I can get that cleaned up, I can put my desktop computer on my desk instead of a dining room chair,  and when I work (yes, I work from home and can’t get to my desk) I will no longer have to stand at the kitchen counter with my laptop.  And then I can set aside the photo project in a box, in the office, until I can get to it.  I’ll be able to unpack some boxes and put things where they go so I can find them.

I finally cleared a path to my desk this evening.  I moved the computer from the dining room chair to the desk, and realized I didn’t have my power strip.  I had put it in my son’s room for his mini Christmas tree because I couldn’t find (!) any of my extension cords.  So off to the abyss of the garage I went, there had to be an extension cord out there somewhere.

Oooh, look, there is the wreath!  I need to go hang that.  Hmmm, where is the rest of the Christmas stuff?  Let’s look through this box, and behind this cabinet, and in this closet….And why was I in the garage again?  Oh, yeah, extension cord.

I finally found the cord, attached it to Aiden’s tree and took the power strip in the office and finished setting up the computer.  I was making headway!  Then I saw an article on Facebook I had to read.  And pack lunches for tomorrow.  And crap, I still need to fold the laundry in the dryer, the laundry that has been dry for 2 days!

So, now there are 2 angels on the mantle and a wreath on the door.  Perhaps I’ll have the tree up for Christmas in July.

And that’s why they have wine!

Rantings of a Frustrated Parent.

The new DSM-V changes are bringing out the conspiracy theorists.

Many cases of cancer are likely caused by environmental factors.  Do we blame the victims?  Not treat them?  Claim the medication they are given is a scam?  Blame their parents for what they fed them?  Shun them?  Do we claim to know that ALL cases of cancer are caused by environment, and find ourselves to be superior for not having it?

No?  So why do it with psychological and developmental disorders?

I’m very happy for anyone that doesn’t have one.  And obviously not having one gives them the expertise to judge those that do.  To say it’s because they have bad parents.  That it’s made up.  That all you have to do is change your diet. 

Right.

Antibiotics are often overprescribed, given for viruses that will not be helped by them.  So should we give no one antibiotics?  Of course not.  In the same way that antidepressants, anti-psychotics, and ADD/ADHD medications should not be discarded as a valuable treatment because they may have been prescribed to someone who didn’t need them.  By their nature, you can’t just biopsy a brain to make a diagnosis, psychological and developmental disorders are more subjectively diagnosed.  Doctors are human, and so it’s not surprising that they may sometimes be wrong in a diagnosis.

The schizophrenic that is hearing voices telling them jokes is not just looking for attention.  Either is an autistic child.  Or one with ADD.  They are struggling.  They need help and support, not blame.

ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) is something that is close to me, my son has it.  He eats mostly organic.  He does not eat a lot of sugar.  He’s not hyperactive.  He does not get in trouble in school.  His mom isn’t off smoking a crack pipe neglecting him.  He doesn’t play video games all day (if he plays for 20 minutes, that is a LONG session)! He gets plenty of exercise.  He is none of the stereotypes that critics like to claim this disorder is, and he already does all the things they claim fix it. 

He has trouble focusing.  He is distracted and physically bothered by loud noises and crowds.  He is having difficulty in school.  Changes in routine (something as simple as someone else besides me picking him up from school) cause him great anxiety. 

We do a lot of things to alleviate these struggles.  Our daily routine is consistent. We keep a whiteboard in the kitchen with the weekly schedule.  Homework is done in a quiet room.  He is given reminders of what he needs to do each day, sometimes several times.  We put all things that have to be turned in at school in a bright red folder to help him remember to do so.  He is getting special help at school.

And he takes medication.  The medication is not the cause of his problems, he’s had those for years  and has only taken the medication since July.  He’s on a minimum dose.  It does not turn him into a “zombie” or make him “drugged out.”  The medication helps him to focus his thoughts and not get as overwhelmed as frustrated, and that makes him happier. 

Yes, a lot of things are overdiagnosed, from the flu to ADD to pain.  Yes, some medication is overprescribed, and some people are just drug-seeking.  Yes, there are a lot of health problems caused by environmental factors and what we eat.

Diseases, disorders, and illnesses are still real regardless.  Even those in the DSM-V.  Believing they're made up doesn't help anyone.

And that’s why they have wine.

 

Are you sure you're not A.D.D?

My son asked me today, “Are you sure you don’t have A.D.D too?”

“No, I don’t have A.D.D., why do you ask?”

“You start to do something and then do something else.  You don’t always hear everything I say.  You would forget to pick me up at school if you didn’t set your phone.”

Hmmm.  He’s right.  It is kind of making me wonder.

I got good grades in school, but it wasn’t because I brought home my homework.  My mom used to ask me “Are you sure you have textbooks?”  I find myself asking my son the same thing.

I have about a million different interests.  I’ll get all involved in something….then suddenly switch to something else.  Just like my son.  I don’t know how much money I spent on scrapbooking items that are still sitting there in a basket, 10 years later.  Or books I haven’t read. Books I haven’t written. Clothes I forgot I bought.  Plans I haven’t followed through on.  All the while, overdedicating myself to a bunch of other activities, and then wonder why I’m always tired!

I’m not sure I can even remember how many majors I went through in college.  Engineering, Mass Communications, Art, Physical Education…finally ending with a double major in Psychology and Sociology.  And I work in Software Development in Quality Assurance.   After jobs as a mental health case manager, receptionist, A/P and Payroll Clerk, Construction Estimator’s assistant, Construction Project Manager/Office Manager, and Software support.  I’m not even quite 45!

 I very often forget conversations.  My son and I get in disagreements constantly about what each other said.  Sometimes I know it is him who forgot, sometimes I’m not sure.  Sometimes I’m not sure if someone told me something or I dreamed it.  And my son is correct, I would forget to pick him up if my phone did not alert me.  When I do get involved in something I like, I lose track of time.  I like my job, I like the problem solving and figuring out how to resolve it.  I like planning.  And so I get lost and need that alert.

I also need alerts to take my vitamins, pick up milk, go to the bank, mail my bills.  For me, smartphones are the greatest invention ever, mine makes sure I don’t forget anything.  When I remember to put the task on the calendar in the first place.

Perhaps I just really like a lot of things, and my mind is going with age.  But he is really making me think.

And that’s why they have wine.

Why Do Women Have To Be Beautiful?

Why do women have to be beautiful?

I read an article today about a mother wanting to teach her daughters to feel beautiful, in part by expressing that she was beautiful, even though she did not feel that way.  At first, I was touched.  But then….all I could think is “Why does it matter?”

I don’t have daughters.  I have a son.  A son that is actually pretty good looking.  That is not just the mother in me talking, I’ve never really thought that much about it.  But I have had other people tell me that, and if I think about it, I guess he is.  But that’s not what I tell him about himself.

I tell him he’s a fast runner, pitched a great game, am proud of the way he treated someone, that he is a great leader, that I am impressed with his knowledge on certain subjects.  He’s a confident kid.  He doesn’t care what he looks like.  (One look at the mismatched outfits he picks out for himself to wear with his ever-present Crocs clogs and the haircut he’s had since he was two that he doesn’t want to change….) He’s never asked if he’s cute or good-looking.  Doesn’t ask about the fattening effects of his snacks, but rather their health value.  He weighs himself every time we go to the grocery store, but he really isn’t concerned with the results, it’s just a curiosity thing.  He asks if he is smart, if he is nice, if he is well-behaved, if he is immature, if he’s funny, if he played a good game.  Never about physical appearance.

My mother never told me I was beautiful.  She never talked about her, or anyones, appearance, good or bad.  I have to say, when I was a teen I wanted the “right clothes”, but I never really was concerned if I was pretty.  In my 20’s, when I was asked to do some local modeling, I actually did one of those head turns to see who was behind me.  Apparantly I must be (or had been!) attractive, but that is not who I see myself as.  I see myself as smart, creative, driven, health-crazy, opinionated, sometimes funny, and probably way too sarcastic.  Do I ever worry about my looks?  Yeah, I don’t like the giant pimple that likes to form on my chin.  I don’t like when my pants get too tight because I’m a cheapskate and don’t want to go replace them.  But I don’t care that if I don’t wear a bra, no one can even tell, or that my hair never looks the same as it did by noon everyday…and I even wear Crocs too.  I want my husband to find me attractive, but I’m more concerned that he thinks I’m a good person.  I am happy.  I don’t need to be beautiful to be that way.

If men don’t need to be Johnny Depp clones, then why do women need to look like a supermodel?  Or even feel like they do?

Why do women have to be beautiful?

I just know I am thirsty.  And that is why there is wine.