Blush in the morning

As a woman raising a daughter I have a very important role. I have crucial responsibilities. That’s not to say women raising boys don’t, or men raising girls don’t. We all do. No matter your gender, no matter what gender you're raising. We all have important roles, tasks, responsibilities.

All parents have important roles. But as a mom raising a daughter, I have, and will, continue to make it part of my mission in raising Adele to teach her to love and cherish and respect her body, but also be honest about my, and our realities, when they are age-appropriate. That means one day we will have a discussion about puberty and breasts, and I will explain to her why I don’t have mine, and what I have in their place. Why I got them removed and what it means. We’ll also talk about her realities, such as being a bi-racial Jewish girl, and how she may not always “fit in” with her peers. I’ll teach her to love who she is, to be proud of her heritage and culture, and also be realistic and honest, when the time comes.

Playing with Harper at our ArtsFest BBQ last weekend

Today, our reality is Adele sees me get dressed every morning. She watches TV and eats her breakfast in our bedroom while Sean and I get dressed every morning. She sees me in my bra and underwear, sipping coffee in between putting on bronzer and eyeliner.

Even for a two-year-old, I actively display love and affection for my body and for hers. But she also sees me put on makeup every day. I don’t go to work in my “natural” face; I put on my “makeup” face. Does that go against loving what you look like? Is that contradictory information? She hears me say one thing but then sees me do another. Do I contradict myself by saying we should love what we have, but then also put makeup on each morning? In my opinion, no.

Because it’s my honest reality. I DO love my body and I DO love my face. I think I am beautiful. But I also wear makeup. Because I WANT to. Nobody tells me to. Nobody asks me to. It’s not a job requirement. It’s not a friend requirement. I do it for myself because it makes me feel good about myself. A little eyeliner, some bronzer/blush, maybe some lipstick, and sometimes mascara. Not too much; just enough to emphasize, not HIDE. Emphasize my features. Highlight my eyes because I love them.

Do all women wear makeup? No. Will Adele wear makeup? I don’t know. (I can tell you she won’t before I allow her to!)

Adele knows Mommy puts on makeup. Adele wants to be just like Mommy these days. She wants to eat what I eat, cut her food how I cut my food, drink coffee like Mommy, wear Mommy’s jewelry and shoes, carry and use Mommy’s keys, and now wear Mommy’s makeup.

Sean is out of town today and tomorrow, so this morning it was just me and Adele getting ready. She usually watches as I do my makeup. This morning she wanted to help so I asked her to hold the blush compact while I dipped my brush in it and then put it lightly on my face. “Here and here,” I showed her, pointing to the places on my cheek where the blush goes. “The trick is just a little.”

She wanted to try, so I let her put blush on my face. It was a very intimate moment between us. All she wants is to be like Mommy. She wants to be involved. Be a “big girl.” So when it’s appropriate and safe, I let her. She also helped me put on lipstick this morning, which I don’t always wear. I showed her how to take the cap off, roll the lipstick up, and she put it on my lips. (she didn’t do a bad job!)

These little Mommy-Adele teaching moments aren’t so much about the makeup and being a woman and being a “lady” as they are about bonding. It’s me opening my (to her) untouchable world of “woman stuff,” like makeup and coffee and keys. It’s showing her I am allowing her to be part of this world when it’s appropriate and safe.

And I tell her, as she’s putting blush on my face, “You can’t use makeup until you’re a lot older, a teenager.”

“OK, Mommy,” she says, just so happy to help.

As she gets older she’ll learn and understand more that I put on makeup, but not all women do. That Mommy chooses to, but like what we wear, it is a choice.

Loving who you are, and showing your daughter that, doesn’t mean hiding the makeup or the morning routine. It’s all a part of me.

Wiped out after a fun weekend!

When she asks other “woman” questions, about bras and panties and tushies, I answer as age-appropriate. My mom raised me with honesty. She gave me information as it suited me. Nothing too sudden or too early. I learned what I was supposed to, and when, and how I was supposed to.

Right now as we’re potty training, of course the topics of tushies and poop and privates come up. It’s nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. If I teach her now the appropriate words, I teach her that these body parts are to be taken seriously and to be respected. If I shy away, it shows I am not taking them seriously, and I am not respecting them.

Part of my job as a mom will always be to ensure Adele’s safety, health, security, happiness, etc., for all eternity. But there are many other parts, too, and those parts change as the child grows. As a woman I have a job to raise a girl into a woman. To understand and love her body. A girl that asks questions. A girl that is not afraid to ask questions. For her to look at me with respect and dignity, as I love and cherish my own body. I treat it right through exercise (we do yoga and dance together in the living room), and through what I eat. She sees me eating fruit and vegetables. (Ok, maybe not too many vegetables, but Adele is definitely on the fruit train!)

Playtime with Claire!

I reinforce not too many sweets, or that sweets and juice are fine in moderation. We only have dessert sometimes. We only have treats on special occasions. I am not a crunchy granola organic mommy, but have no problem, and totally respect the moms who are – and who stick to purely organic healthy foods for their little ones. 

I try to make sure the majority of Adele's food is healthy and organic. But sometimes I allow sweets and treats. And sometimes her crackers are made with enriched white flour. And sometimes I am terrified to look at the nutrition label of her ice cream from the ice cream truck. But sweets are in moderation. And I teach her that, too, and also show her. Mommy eats birthday cake sometimes, and will share her ice cream sometimes.

I am so excited for my job as it lays ahead. As Adele grows more and more, the rewards keep coming, in different ways, sometimes surprisingly. (Like when she kissed me for the first time, or the first time she said “I love you.”)

Now she speaks in full sentences, telling me about a card she drew for me in school, and where to display it in the house. And that she doesn’t want monsters to eat her red fruit. Or after dinner, as we’re reading together, she asks, “Is it nighttime?”

“Not yet,” I tell her, as I turn the page to Angelina Ballerina or Minnie Mouse or Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. “One more book and then it’s nighttime.”

Or as I’m dropping her off at school, setting her up with the other kids playing with clay or painting, she asks “You’re going home now?”

“No,” I say, “I’m going to work, but then I’ll come see you after, and we’ll go home and have dinner.”

And all day long I look forward to my evening with her. Whether we’re reading nicely on the couch together or coloring quietly, or if she’s having a tantrum because I put her cookies in the red cup instead of the yellow cup, I look forward to all of it, and try to hold it in so closely. Because what I feel for her is so deep. My love for her is so strong that it scares me, mostly all the time. The love is so deep, so pure. It’s shocking, jarring, if I had to explain it. I love her so much it hurts.

It causes me anxiety, and sometimes it’s hard to cope with the love and responsibility and this large role I have in this little person’s life. And we have so much ahead of us, and I am thrilled thinking about what’s to come.

And we’ll have struggles, of course. And when we address our realities, it won’t be easy. There is her adoption story, and my breast cancer. Some stories are joyful and interesting. And then there are other truths that aren’t fun to talk about, like my LFS and cancer history. But she’ll learn them. Sean and I have her wrapped so tightly in love. She feels safe and sound and secure.

Hello Kitty ice cream from the ice cream truck! We love summer!

Last night as I was getting out of the shower, before I dried my hair, I listened to Sean and Adele in the bedroom connected to the bathroom. When Sean does bedtime, they lay together on the bed. She drinks her milk, they watch politics or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. And they laugh and talk together.

And I can hear Sean’s love from inside the closed door. And I want to remember this very moment. July 20, in the heat of summer. The sun is setting outside. I am relaxed and clean from my shower.

Sean says to Adele, “We love you so much,” and she giggles and says she loves him.

And in this moment, the bathroom is a mess, my laundry isn’t put away, dinner is still sitting on the table, and this is the first time I’ve washed my hair in (a week?). I want to remember this exact moment. Clothes all over, love in our bedroom, love that fills the house.

We have a beautiful story to tell. We’re living it. And Adele knows it.