Girl Talk

Our Hollywood Baby with her Nana on Christmas Eve.

From the moment I wanted children, I wanted a daughter. In fact, you could even say that I didn't particularly want children. I just wanted a daughter. I wanted the cute pink ballerina skirts, the giggles, the baking, and (yes) the shopping. I wanted tea parties and secrets. Finger painting in nothing but tights and warm summer softball games complete with the wind-up pitch.

But, let's face it, there are definitely aspects of parenting a daughter that parents of sons probably don't worry so much about. I suddenly find myself taking the time to read articles with such titles as "Kids Who Won't Eat." Did you know that the typical onset age of anorexia is now 9 years old? Or that the Eating Disorders Specialists of Illinois treat patients as young as 6?

The authors seem to think the nation's battle against obesity is to blame for the progressively younger patients suffering from eating disorders. Kids apparently sit through grade-school-level nutrition classes and start thinking food is bad. Never mind the fact that this article appeared in the very same issue as the article titled, "Get Your Pre-Baby Body Back."

Meanwhile, teenage pregnancies are also on the rise. Apparently, this is good old George W's fault. Not that he's traveling the country in a malicious scheme to knock up 13 year olds. No. Definitely not that. But he got some hair-brained idea that maybe instead of handing out condoms to 13 year olds we should advise them away from sex altogether. Of course this is insane. Where does he think he lives? This is 21st century America. Nobody even knows what self control and strong parenting even are. Hasn't he seen that new reality show "Teen Moms?" Doesn't he know what he's caused? All he has to do is look at magazine covers in the check-out line to see all those celebrity teen moms whose lives he's ruined. Unfortunately, I don't know which president to blame for those insidious nutrition classes that have led to 6 year old girls starving themselves.

And bullying. This is one parents of sons may be more interested in. We all know bullying has reached remarkable heights of cruelty. Some people blame the Internet for this one. Kids can't just go home to escape bullies because--guess what?--bullies are waiting for them online. And, of course, the Internet means that a public disgrace is just that much more public. A little less than a year ago I was reading Cosmo (don't get me started--it's a long story involving the mid-subscription end of a nice interior decorating magazine and Conde Nast's remarkably poor judgment in finding a "replacement" subscription) and stumbled onto an article discussing online "smack talk" sites. Cosmo had the good sense to condemn such sites and the people who contribute to them. Cosmo also had the hypocrisy to include their very own "Do's and Don'ts" section making fun of women's fashion sense. As if those black bars across the eyes will keep anyone from recognizing themselves. And just the other day, I decided to check out a website I'd been hearing about--People of WalMart. Big mistake. Rather than enjoying any part of that experience, I ended up crying for the poor people being made fun of: drag queens and hairy obese men in overalls and girls stuffed into too-short shorts. Maybe they shouldn't be dressed like that but we definitely shouldn't be saying some of the things I read on that site.

Bottom line: blame the nutritionists for your child's anorexia, blame George W for your daughter's teenage pregnancy, and blame the anonymous Internet (but not anyone you know who reads it) for any mean, bully-ish tendencies your child may develop.

So This Is Christmas

This is the first year Craig and I haven't made it back to Middle America to celebrate Christmas with snow, family, and starry skies. We've always gone back. Even on years when we couldn't really afford to and probably shouldn't have. The thought of staying put and celebrating Christmas on the beach with sun and sand and palm trees used to make me cry.

This year was different. We told family a year ago that we wouldn't be coming back for this Christmas, and I was prepared to be sad and lonely when the day finally arrived. Praise God I wasn't at all. Yes, I missed seeing Great Grandpa Joe dressed in a reindeer hat. Yes, I missed the snow (kind of). Yes, I missed playing Christmas carols with my li'l sis. But Christmas came as it always does, and even though the whole holiday snuck up on me and I never made any Christmas cookies and did a pathetic job with cards, it still felt like Christmas. Craig's parents flew out to be with us, and Evelyn had fun tearing into everyone's packages, and close friends came over for the traditional fondue brunch, and new friends from Italy and Lubbock, Texas showed up, and I baked a pie and spent more time in the kitchen on Christmas than I've ever had to before in my life. We drove around to look at Christmas lights and we went to a musical Christmas Eve service. We played group party games and took Evelyn to the park. We shopped and ate and slept. And we loved the sun and sand and palms.

The whole season this year made me think about Christmas in a new way. I thought of a speaker I'd recently heard describe the first Christmas all her children were grown up and out of state for the holiday. I remembered how she said she and her husband went out to dinner Christmas Eve and had to leave early because all she could do was weep. I thought of all my family I was missing. I realized that the year may come when I don't even have Evelyn or Craig with me to celebrate. And I thought how--despite what the world may tell you--Christmas isn't really about family at all. It's a time to be with family, yes. But Christmas is about Christ. And you can always have Him, no matter where you are.