"Be a nice girl"

Lester asked me the other day if I'd read this column in Motherlode about a woman expressing all the reasons she does NOT want her daughter to be nice:

http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/07/31/i-do-not-want-my-daughter-to-be-nice/?_r=0

Here's a few paragraphs from the post, in case you don't have time to read the whole thing:

My 10-year-old daughter, Birdy, is not nice, not exactly. She is deeply kind, profoundly compassionate and, probably, the most ethical person I know — but she will not smile at you unless either she is genuinely glad to see you or you’re telling her a joke that has something scatological for a punch line.
This makes her different from me. Sure, I spent the first half of the ’90s wearing a thrifted suede jacket that I had accessorized with a neon-green sticker across the back, expressing a somewhat negative attitude regarding the patriarchy (let’s just say it’s unprintable here). But even then, I smiled at everyone. Because I wanted everyone to like me. Everyone!
I am a radical, card-carrying feminist, and still I put out smiles indiscriminately, hoping to please not only friends and family but also my son’s orthodontist, the barista who rolls his eyes while I fumble apologetically through my wallet, and the ex-boyfriend who cheated on me. 

This article reminded Lester of our own little not-so-nice one, although she has years to go to get to the point where the author's girl is: "'Gender stereotypes, among other injustices, infuriate her,'" the author says of her tween. "'This is so stupid!'" she sighs at Target, about the pink rows of dolls and the blue rows of Lego. "'Why don’t they just put a penis or a vagina on every toy so you can be completely sure you’re getting the right one?'"

For instance, this description here reminds me of my daughter: "But when strangers talk to her, she is like, "'Whatever.'" She looks away, scowling. She does not smile or encourage."

Umm, hello Clair.

And this one, too. Oh boy, this one:  "Even as a 2-year-old, she had the determined wrath and gait of a murderous zombie gnome — and my husband and I grimaced at each other, afraid, over her small and darkly glowering head."

A murderous, screaming, swatting, swiping, angry, stubborn, unbudging, "do-not-touch-me-stranger!" zombie gnome. That's my adorable, gap-toothed, haloed little cherub, absolutely. (Love you, Clair!)

But just as Clair has a long way to go before she is strolling the toy store aisles, raging against stereotyping in a feminist fury, I admit to having a long way to go before I can say "I don't want my daughter to be nice."

I totally get this writer's point. She wants her daughter not to be a doormat, or a syrupy, smiley, apologetic wallflower. She wants her daughter to reserve her "niceness" for those who earn it, and to forever hold on to her easy ability to just say "No," no matter if it's a grabby boy making an unwanted request or a societal ill that she just won't stand for.

I love that, and want that for Clair too. I love that she can't say 50 words, but she is not. to. be. intimidated.

But darnit. I'm sorry. (See, there I go apologizing!) I want her to be nice, too.

There's no reason you can't be nice for niceness' sake -- and still be a girl who knows what she will and will not stand for. Nice is good. Too many people think they're nice and really aren't. And too many people try so hard not to be nice, for fear they'll get run over. I don't want Clair to fear being nice.

I once had a co-worker tell me that she didn't "give" anyone respect. Everyone she met had to earn it.

I feel like that's the wrong way to go about life. I think you should treat everyone you meet with respect, graciously dole it out even, unless that person gives you a good reason not to. And even then, I think you should still show (most people) outward respect, even if you don't feel it in your heart.

I feel the same way about niceness. People don't have to "earn" me being nice to them. I'm just nice (or at least I really try to be). And if I get to the point where a person no longer deserves my niceness, well that's a different story. I know when to fold 'em, walk away, run -- or stay and fight.  Ask people at the Baltimore Sun union if I ever rolled over in the face of injustice.

I want my fierce baby girl to be a nice girl too -- in fact, I want all my children to be nice, kind, charitable and considerate of others.

And if they ever have to put someone or something in its place some day, I hope they'll do it with gusto. I also hope they do it with a smile.

Have a nice day y'all. :-)

Day 3 of pre-school = quiet time with Clair

Lester dropped the boys off by himself this morning at school. He SAYS there were no tears.

We'll see what Miss Toni has to say about that in the Daily Report.

This aberration in the drop-off routine (Lester goes; I stay) is what will happen on Wednesdays now, which means I get to have a full half-hour alone with Clair before Michelle comes.

Can I just say, it was soooo great! A half-hour doesn't sound like a lot, but it was really a good amount of time to just sit on the floor with her, read a couple of baby books, play with toys, play Peek-a-boo and tickle and snuggle with her. It's quieter and I could give her my full attention! I so enjoyed it and so did she.

I also decided to break out some of the boys' old toys, and this singing puppy was a huge hit!

The bottom left photo cracks me up! She was SOOO excited! "It talks! It sings! It tastes good! Hooray!"

All in all, it was a very good morning. And I think it'll prove to be really nice for Michelle, too, not having Cary and Dean for two solid hours in the morning. She'll get to play with Clairzy, and maybe sneak in a little downtime, when she takes a nap around 9:30. Win-win for everybody!

(And also, because I was already all dressed and ready to go -- not having two toddlers running me ragged all morning -- I could leave the house as soon as Michelle got there. That meant I was ON TIME to work! What a concept!)

Did I say #winning?! Yes, yes, y'all! Winning!!

Tomorrow is the big day! (A confession)

I would like to use this space today for confession.

Forgive me, bank account, for I have sinned.

When my boys were born, Lester and I agreed to be the kind of parents who believed in "less is more." We agreed that it was best to raise children who did not come to expect so many material things in life, but who were grateful for the few nice things we gave them. "Grateful" and "few" being the key words there.

So as their 1st birthday approached, we settled on a minimalist celebration. We'd have cake and ice cream at my Mom and Dad's with my sisters, brothers and their kids only. We'd eschew games, music, a big meal and most importantly a lot of gifts, for a few "Kodak" moments with family and a low-key, inexpensive day. But NOT a party.

I'm still doing well in the not-a-party department, even though I did buy a few party decorations, including hats for the boys, two balloons, plates, cups, etc.. But we're still gathering at my Mom's and the only folks outside of my immediate family who are invited are my cousin and her twin boys who are 6 months younger than Cary and Dean. I just couldn't leave them out. Those four boys are destined to be best of friends some day!

But the gifts...

Oh, the gifts....

About a month ago, I ordered a few books online, to add to their library. (Literacy is a big deal in our house, and we all know that reading creates synapses, my favorite thing!) I was so smug when I told Lester that was ALL Cary and Dean would get.

Then, my co-worker and friend bought a climbing toy for her son's 1st birthday (see pics from Hugo's first birthday party). I immediately knew that my boys would LOVE such a toy. So I ordered one from Toys R Us.

It's OK, I thought. One big toy for both of them isn't a bad thing. And the climbing is good for their development.

Later, I noticed a little red wagon with seats for two. I imagined pulling Cary and Dean around the neighborhood in the red wagon, and how much they'd love being able to see in front, on the sides and behind them, in a way they can't do in the stroller.

So I ordered one.

My plan was to give them the books to open at their not-a-party on Sunday at Mom's and the big toys would be available for their use at home on their actual birthday.

But then I thought, "Hmmm...they don't have a toy to 'open' on their actual birthday." So instead of just wrapping up one or two of the books, I ordered a little toy dog that yips and wags his tail when pulled, and one of those old-school xylophones that are ubiquitous in all American childhoods.

Let's re-cap: books, a climbing toy, a little red wagon, a toy doggie, a xylophone.

How exactly is that list "minimalist?"

Why did I feel the need for them to have toys to "open?" They have NO IDEA it's their birthday, or what a birthday is or that you're supposed to get presents or what "opening" said presents means or anything like that! They are a YEAR OLD. Cary thinks the fan's name is "Danh" for goodness sake!

What was I thinking? I'm so ashamed.

I need help. I really do. Not to mention, we're getting the boys' photos taken tomorrow by my good friend, Jennifer McMenamin, and that endeavor is costing us a GRIP.

So all in all, this birthday is turning out to be expensive as hell. And my confidence is a little shaky about our ability to raise grateful kids who don't feel entitled to so many things.

Next year, I'll have to do better.