Little Ears

While we were downtown today, a curly, red-haired pre-teen fell backwards off his chair. Everyone at his table reacted loudly. After he got up to leave the table, his friend approached us said directly to me & my daugher: “If you were wondering, my red-haired friend is an alien”. 

My daughter looked at me with wide-eyes. She didn’t understand.

The boy laughed and walked away. My daughter stared after him. Her hair is constantly being brought into the spotlight by strangers on the street. She hears that she is red-haired at least 3 times a day.

My first reaction was anger.

There are so many things we “like” or participate in on Facebook. Or we just tolerate them, scrolling by with a smirk. Even though I know most of my friends, I’ve seen many memes or comments making fun of other races, social groups, body parts, etc. Online is not real life; it’s just harmless fun…..

Today a boy told my my 4-year-old daughter two things:
1. Be embarrassed of people who accidentally fall in public...Or, be embarrassed of other people.
2. Specifically, red-haired people are embarrassing, different and weird (or whatever alien means to him…).

It makes me really want to rethink the things that I laugh at. What is acceptable online (Hello to all the Ginger Memes) is NOT okay to tell a little kid in real life. Why do we get to like and laugh at things online that we would never say in real life? I am guilty of this as much as anyone else.

Thankfully today I can tell my girl that she’s beautiful for more than her physical appearance. Later in the day our 3-year-old friend Theo fell, and a 4-year-old stranger quickly and compassionately helped him up.

Little people know our attitude, concerns, dislikes. Little people learn the rules of what is appropriate to laugh at, and what’s not. Little people know who we like to spend time with.

Little ears hear your phone conversations, your whispers, your heart. Be careful.

My Constant One

I carried all 40 pounds of you for hours at the fair. I took you to the doctor when you were sick. I went to work for you, went to bed late and got up early for you. I spent hours in the bathroom with you, helping you bathe and re-potty training you. I cleaned up accidents. I folded laundry for you; I dropped you off and picked you up from two different daycares. I packed you special lunches; I went grocery shopping for things you will eat. I did paperwork for you. I cried sometimes because I was physically exhausted from taking care of you.

~

And in a moment of anger and emotion, because I wouldn't let you watch TV, you burst out, "Mom, I don't  want to be your daughter anymore". Emphatically. Repeatedly.

~

I laughed. Because I know that you don't mean that. Because I know that I'll hear that again. Because I love you so much I lay down my life for you every. single. day, whether I feel like it or not.

~

I've never seen a clearer picture of myself than tonight than in your angry, 4-year-old face, my sweet girl, while you tried to disown me. How many times have I told my Father, "I don't want to be your daughter anymore". I'm ashamed to say how many times. How many times I've shouted angry words at Him because of how I feel.

~

He gets it. He laughs: "Oh honey. I love you so".

~

He never changes. He loves me and cares for me every day. He is there on the bad days and good days.

~

And baby, I'll always be your mom.

Fair Magic