Conversations with my Kid - The Trying to Learn About Racism Edition

I was going to post an entirely different conversation but then this morning, I had an interesting one with my 7-1/2-year old which left me feeling a bit stumped. So I have switched gears to share this one since I appreciate gaining insight from other mamas.

As I was buzzing around getting our morning going, I overheard my 2nd grader teaching my 5-1/2- year-old kindergartener one of those patty-cake, jumping-around, rhyming, singy-songs that little girls do on the playground. In this particular one, one of the lines was "Here comes a lady with an African booty."

Ugh.

Knowing full-well that my kid had no idea what she was saying, I gently said, "We need to talk about this song you've learned because some of the words just aren't very nice."

I then left the room to consult with my man because sometimes he is more even in his approach and I didn't want my daughter to feel like I was punishing her because I always want her to feel comfortable telling me things she learns on the playground. The last thing I want is for her to feel like she needs to keep secrets from me. That's a bigger ugh.

So when she came out from her room to sit down and have breakfast, we both calmly explained that she didn't do anything wrong but saying those words can hurt other people feelings and she really can't sing that song with her friends anymore.

"Why does it hurt other people's feelings?"

"Well, where do African people come from?"

"Africa," she said.

"And what color are most people that come from Africa?"

"I don't know."

"Well, African people usually have brown or black skin. And this country has a history of not being very nice to black people."

"I know that," she said.

"Okay. Well then if you know that, we are just trying to tell you that if other people heard you singing that song, especially perhaps, black people, they would not like hearing those words and their feelings would be hurt."

"Why?"

I felt myself getting frustrated. I thought - Why can't she just grasp this concept and say okay and just understand???

My husband jumped in, "You see, there's a thing called racism and when you say those words, it sounds racist. Like you are saying that there is only kind of African butt and that's not true. In this country we try our best not to generalize about any race."

"What's race?" she asked.

Wow. I underestimated the complicated nature of this conversation.

"Race is a certain group of people. Like when you're black, that's a certain race and well, we're white, and that's another race."

My husband and I exchanged glances that said we had no idea if were helping this situation out at all.

Our daughter continued, "Well, we are not talking about a race, we are talking about one lady!"

"We know that, honey, but in the term, 'African booty', you are talking about a race. And those are the words that we have a problem with."

And then I added, "Do you have any idea what those words are even supposed to mean?"

"No." Claire said. "But we weren't trying to be mean."

"We know that, honey. And we're not punishing you. But we're your parents and we are here to help you learn about the world and we are telling you that the world will not like it if it hears you say those words."

"But we weren't trying to be mean. And we weren't even talking about African people, we were talking about one lady!"

And after a few more exchanges, the conversation ended as we needed to rush out the door as to not be late for school. I told her I was going to talk to her teacher which terrified her because she LOVES her teacher and never wants to be perceived as a kid who does anything wrong. I told her it wasn't to get anyone in trouble, it was just to let her know what was being said on the playground by many kids and maybe she could talk to the whole class about why it's not a nice thing to say too.

As my husband left to drive the girls to school, I felt so....unsatisfied. Was I expecting too much from her? Was this concept of racism beyond her grasp? It's such a delicate balance of educating and not feeling punished for something she so clearly was not getting.

What am I missing here? Any experiences you can add or tips or insight or language I should have used would be greatly appreciated.

Damn those singy-songy-rhymey playground things.

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If you have a "Conversation with your Kid" that you would like to share, paste the link in the linky contraption below. I'd love to check it out.

Thanks for adding to the conversation.....have a great weekend!

How to Stop Your Kid from Sucking a Pacifier, Sucking a Bottle, Sucking a Thumb, Sucking on your Boob, etc. etc. etc.

Written by Lee

So yes. I was scared as hell to become a mother. 

But despite my deep-seeded fear that God did not cut me out of mother-making material, I couldn't quite embrace the loads of parenting books that new mamas sometimes like to sink their insecure teeth into.  All the words I read as I tried to at least make it through the good ol' standards "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "What to Expect the First Year" were just that....words.  Words that were just not doing the trick for me.  Words that were not sinking in. Words that just kept bouncing off my brain and back onto the page.  I'm sure there were plenty of good words in there somewhere.  These words were simply not resonating within me.  

And even though I am the first person to admit my weaknesses as a mama (hell, the whole reason this blog was created was because of my struggles in the mothering arena) I think that turning away from parenting books in general was actually an early sign of the kind of mother I was going to be.  And it reflects what I believe to be one of my greatest strengths as a person and it has ultimately saved my ass on this journey of mothering.

And that strength is the ability to listen to and to trust my inner voice.  Me.  My gut.

And in the upside-down whirldom of motherhood, the gut is pretty damn powerful.  And it's the one thing I think that's gotten buried in the midst of modern mama information overload.  And that's not to say that there is not some extremely worthwhile and essential information out there. Sure there is. There's simply too much of it.  

So my defense to information overload is to block out the chatter and look within.  The answer usually lies there.  For me.  And for my kids.  

And isn't that all that really matters?

Claire, my oldest, loved her pacifier deep and true. And as she got older, her "paci" needs grew. From one to three. One for the mouth, one to hold under her nose to uh, smell, and one to hold in one hand and squeeze between her fingers.  By the time she was two-years-old, she needed ALL of them to put her to sleep.  And holy shit, you can imagine the chaos that ensued if for some reason, one of the three was missing.  

By the time Claire hit three, many of my friends around me with kids the same age were starting the "pacifier removal" process. And some friends who had older kids would tell me what they did to get rid of the pacifier so to help Claire and I in our sure-to-be painful journey of pacifier riddance.  I observed, and listened, but in my gut, I heard, "What's the big deal? She surely won't be sucking a pacifier forever."  

So I let it go.  I let the pacifier trinity that was Claire's soothing system reign. And I didn't worry about it.  

And one day when Claire was a little over 5-years-old, I brought her pacifiers to her at bedtime like I had done a thousand times before and she said simply "I don't need them anymore. I'm done." 

And she was. 

And I left the room with her pacifiers in my hand and I cried.  'Cause it happened so damn fast. It was over.  

A topic that had literally consumed friends of mine and one that will consume many more mothers I am sure.  Gone.  In a flash.  With no warning.  No signs. She was bigger all of a sudden.  And she knew it was time.

And I'm not saying I'm a hero for letting it all happen that way.  I'm just saying that I think we need to remember that listening to our guts and not to everyone else who surely has a reason why MY kid needs to stop sucking her pacifiers.  

I think I am most successful as a mother when I listen to my inner voice and let go.  And usually what happens next is what's supposed to happen. The organic path.  I truly believe that.  

It's all of the plotting and stomping and and tricking and battling and reasoning and talking and pleading and bargaining and negotiating that I think is nuts. Especially when it comes to emotional matters for kids. Like sucking things. That sucking stuff is personal. It's intimate. It's comforting. It's expression. It's need.

I know there will be plenty of people who might very well make all kinds of arguments as to why I'm crazy for letting this sucking stuff take its natural course.  And I welcome those arguments of course.  I simply would like to present this as food for thought...

... "We're over-thinking it." 

Being a mother has been the most single most surprising experience of my life and it never stops with its shock value.  In many ways, I am the kind of mother I never thought I would be. Like I'm a mother of a 25-month-old little dude who is not too interested in stopping nursing. I never thought I would be "that mom." But I am. And I'm listening to my gut on this one too.

One day sometime soon, sooner than I would like, he will tell me in his own way that he doesn't need it anymore. He's done. 

And despite the people around me who I'm sure have their own thoughts about my nursing a 2-year-old, I will probably cry when it's over.  'Cause it will all have ended so. damn. fast.

So how do you stop a kid from sucking the stuff he or she loves and craves to suck on?  I say, in most instances, let it go.  The sucking is gonna stop.  It really will.  That's what my gut tells me. And it hasn't let me down so far.

Some life before blogging....

Written by Lee

Something is in the air in my world.  Some shift is happening. 

Maybe the marine layer sticking around too late in a So Cal summer has something to do with it, maybe it's the way my emotional cells are being rearranged watching my summer babies grow and change before my eyes, and maybe it's just the result of a feeling soul living another day in this world and it's just what is always happening but now I've taken a moment to sit back for a second and actually pay attention. 

Yeah, pay attention. To the slow turn of the earth and the skin on all of us that stretches just a little bit more each and every day in all kinds of directions. 

And so I'm a little filled with thought.

On a lazy Saturday afternoon filled with everything and nothing, I went through a couple of boxes from our move over a year ago to start the process of feeling more organized for the looming school year.  In one of the boxes sat a journal of sorts or more like a notebook filled with unlined pages and quite a few handwritten pages tucked into it. Things I had written over the last seven years as I existed in some state of being pregnant or just giving birth and everything in between.  I have not written that much- just enough when I had a moment to feel something.  And then to write about it.

One of the pages I had written spoke to me today.  Maybe it's because of this shift I feel right now. Here it is:

July 4, 2007 -------

Who would've thought that when I first put pen to paper to reflect on becoming a mother that I would be sitting here staring at a SON - our third child - our Tommy. The decision to arrive here was not an easy one - just like with the first. But actually even  this time the decision was different. We already had our two beautiful girls - life was filled with blessings. Practically it didn't make much sense to venture out into the land of a third kid - we had a lot of things up in the air as we always do - but V and I talked a lot about taking this step and again we took the faithful route instead of the fearful one and here we are - with no regrets whatsoever.

I'm in awe of your beautiful face Tommy as you lay in your bouncy chair in the shade beneath my legs and chair on the worn deck of this rental house in Santa Monica. Yet another thing we've been faithful about or at least trying to be - as we build a new house basically to take care of our growing family. How we will get to the end I am not sure, but I haven't been sure of much logistically since we started this journey of parenthood but God provides somehow someway gently leading us along this path - and we follow....

But it kind of is keeping with what I believe that life is about movement - moving through things not just staying stagnant or comfortable....just keep walking through filling life with experience and relationships and memories and feelings...definitely not things.  Things should really only be used to facilitate the feelings and experiences.

So here we are...yet again staring straight into the very meaning of life. To create life and treasure it and nurture it and watch it grow.

Who says my kids are good for nothing? Not me!

Written by Lee

I've been feeling a bit negative in my brain about the whole kids/parenting thing. Like "why are my kids so crazy, I must be a lousy mom" type of brain stuff.  

And I'm tired of it.  

So tonight I am diving deep into the crevices of the thing inside my skull to dig up some positive stuff about me and the kids.  Like surely they have given me so much, right?  Like I am so blessed to be given this perspective on life through the eyes of my innocent children, right? Like if I really take pause and ponder the wonderment of my existence, my noggin will give me example after example of how my life is better because of them, right?

I'm trying here.

Bear with me.

So even though I could give you plenty o' BIG, IMPORTANT examples of how friggin' beautifully life-changing they have been to me as a woman and a soul on this planet, there is one shining thing that is distinctly different in my life because of my children that I simply can not ignore tonight.

These.

Really now.  What about these?

This topic may circle the arena of TMI but I'm too tired to care.  

Before having kids, this little slick plastic box was never seen sitting near our toilets.  Now, I can not imagine life without it.  And if that slick little plastic box goes empty, holy holy.  Let's not talk about that.

It's amazing to me that more adults do not understand the value and necessity of these flushable wipes. Before kids, I, too, was utterly clueless about what I was missing.

Now I will say that my dude was a bit more dialed-in to the need for something moist in the bathroom arena. Whenever we were in Europe together and we spotted a bidet in our travels, he would say "Hey honey, check this concept out. They're really onto something here."  And I would nod my head in semi-understanding but not really understanding.  How could I?

That dry toilet paper always seemed to work uh, just fine.

But once I had kids, it didn't take me long to notice the practicality and power of wipes. I mean, I wouldn't imagine wiping one of my kid's asses with just toilet paper, like cleaning a diaper with toilet paper? HUH?, so the next logical step in my thinking was why not maybe, just maybe, utilize these wipes as adults?

Now, I'm not saying a diaper is in any way remotely comparable to well, you know, so whatever. You get the point though, don't you?

During potty training, my girls insisted on using wipes when I helped them after going you know, Number Two. (Okay typing that felt so weird to me but whatever. I am totally on a roll here so just leave me alone.)  It was like they were used to the feeling of moist wipes from when they were infants and using toilet paper just seemed so rough.  And of course they were RIGHT!

So they were the ones who inspired the whole looking into the flushable wipes thing and well, the rest is history.

Now I know from experience that there are many many many adults that do not use flushable wipes for themselves or their kids and they even think I am bit strange for having them sitting in both of our bathrooms.  But you know what?  I truly believe you are missing out.

Flushable wipes have crazily impacted my daily existence and they are one of the many gems, yes, real treasures, given to me by my children.  

So there.  I hope your eyes have been opened to the pure joy of it all. 

You can thank me later.

DISCLAIMER:  This post was not sponsored in any way, shape, or form by Cottonelle. I feel the need to say this these days and maybe I shouldn't but whatever.  I love Cottonelle wipes and will defend them to the grave but they did not encourage or bribe me to say these things.  But if, by some ridiculous reason, they are reading, I will of course start accepting bribes now.  I want BIG cash so I can pay all of my contributing writers.  Is anyone reading the small print?  Whoever is reading this, the cash is yours.  If I ever get any.