Raising Healthy-Minded Kids

My kind, nerdy, tender-hearted, artsy, ten-year-old lay on the floor in her darkened room, eyes wet with frustration as she lamented that her six year-old-sister could do more push-ups than she.  We had a sweet discussion about how every person possesses different strengths and then I asked "Do you know why we workout?" And this part–this part socked me in the gut.  "So I don't get fat," she answered.  "Who told you that?" I quickly asked and she answered no one. She just knows.

When I was ten and in 5th grade, just like my girl, I hugged my dad goodnight and he told me I had a pretty face but that I should lose a little weight.  That was the first of many memories I own where my weight and appearance were mentioned.  Many, many.  And because I experienced years of eating disorders, counseling, dieting, etc.,  I was so afraid to have a daughter–not to mention three–because I know the pressures they will face. Those words from my eldest reminded me that even if my girls never hear my husband or me tell them they should trim down or lose weight, they may still absorb that message from the outside world.

I told my husband about what my daughter said and it sparked a discussion. Mostly about how we raise healthy daughters who take care of their bodies and appreciate them as the gift they are.
It's a precarious teeter-totter to guide our girls to live healthy life styles without becoming consumed with body image and negative behaviors.  And we don't get it right every day, but these are some of the Do's and Don'ts we want to keep implementing in our house:

We DO encourage colorful food choices.  I'm not too concerned with the artistic appearance of food, but color is an easy way to teach kids how to recognize a healthy plate.  Focusing on a rainbow of colors usually helps my girls diversify the types of food on their plates with the goal of all the food groups being represented.

We DON'T eat late at night (usually).  Once dinner is cleaned up, the cook (me) is off duty for a couple reasons: we want our girls to eat the dinner we prepared and not be picky and we know if they know they can eat later, they are less motivated to eat dinner. And I'm told that eating right before sleeping isn't ideal for our digestion.  When I'm peckish at night, it's usually because my body is signaling something else like, "hey, you're tired--go to sleep" not "fuel your body with more food so you can stay awake."  A common exception to this is if the kids are really hungry after an evening activity (like swimming practice). Then the next rule kicks in.

We DO allow them to grab a fruit or vegetable snack at anytime. Sometimes this prevents eating unneeded calories: "Mom, can I have a snack?" "Sure, grab a veggie." Loud sigh, "Never mind." But sometimes they do take advantage of it, and even at night, it can be thrilling to see them consuming raw veggies during a bedtime story.

We DO carve out time to exercise and be active as individuals and family. Depression is prevalent in my family, but I have found that exercise is my anti-depressant.  The endorphins make me a kinder, calmer momma and wife.  So we talk about the benefits of exercise with our girls and 2-3 times a week incorporate intentional exercise into their routine.  We do circuits, running, biking, snowshoeing, hiking, tennis, soccer, and lots and lots of outdoor play. Whether or not the girls are athletic is inconsequential.  We want them to learn to crave physical activity and carry it with them through their hopefully long, healthy lives.

We DON'T complain about our bodies.  I won't use the word "fat" or any other berating term about myself in front of my girls.  Never ever.  I am their example of a woman and their bodies might look like mine someday, so I want them to know that would be okay.  I want them to know that a fluffy middle isn't awful and extra padding is okay, too.  Or maybe their bodies won't look like mine and they will be girly versions of their dad–long, lanky and low on curves–and that would be okay, too.

Because regardless of too much squish or no curves or big feet or gap teeth, they are made in His image, fearfully and wonderfully made by Our Creator. And we want to teach them to both appreciate and care for what He has given them.

Aftertaste

I'm fortunate to be a little sister to some amazing older siblings. Lucky for me, those siblings go in front of me in life, encounter everything just a few years before me, and then pass on their delicious wisdom. I tasted some of that deliciousness a couple days ago when I was out to lunch with my sister-in-law Gayle. She's a brain--has her PhD and runs a whole program at a local university. She is witty and bright and looks out for me. She and my brother have amazing twin girls three years older than my eldest. And over our salads and iced coffees, she shared a--well, not-so-scrumptious idea with me.

Her girls had gotten off the bus and were picking on each other as sisters can do--Gayle allowed them to handle their own conflict until one of them said to the other, "Well that's why you don't have any friends." It's a retort most siblings have used on each other at some point, right? But Gayle heard those words and knew that remark could leave a painful memory--especially since the recipient child is struggling with friendships right now. She called the guilty twin into the kitchen and handed her a spoonful of horseradish. Gayle administered aforementioned medicine and said, "This horseradish will leave an awful aftertaste, but you will drink water and wash that taste away within minutes. However, what you said to your sister might not wash away."

What a great tangible lesson that I wish I had heard earlier. The last few months the parenting issue we've been dealing with the most is the impact of our words. We have not been ok with how Adelaide talks to one of her friends, and last Sunday we reprimanded her about not being kind, loving, and gentle with her words. As penance, Kyle and I made her clean her room and spend some time alone. Even after the scolding, Kyle and I heard several tones of voice and snotty words from her that day; after each of us had individually admonished her to speak well (remember, Gayle had yet to share the horseradish with me). Up to this point, we were calm, handling our job as parents with excellent serenity. However, one can only be tranquil for so long.

That evening, I was nursing Charlotte in her room with the door closed (mind you, I hear everything from in there, I practically have bat radar). While Kyle was getting the older two ready for bed, Evie selected a book--evidently, the wrong book according to Adelaide. So she griped noisily, “Evie, now I have to get another book.... you are such a pest!”

WHAT?! Did I hear her correctly? Seriously? After our whole spiel about loving your freaking neighbor? After a whole day about being kind with our words! What?!! Well, I couldn’t hold my tongue. Gentleness thrown in a pile on the floor, I jumped up, Charlotte's meal rudely interrupted and now squirting all over her face, and stormed into the hall. I shouted,--no, roared-- “Adelaide, we don’t ever say something like that! That was the final straw! Seriously!” And then I looked at my much calmer husband and shook my head at him, just to reiterate how furious I was. I went in to finish feeding the baby, wondering immediately if I overreacted and hadn't been gentle and loving and kind with my words... Yikes. My heart was pounding I was so ticked. Obviously, our gentle talks had not gotten through to her.

I wish I would have heard about the horseradish first and maybe we could have dished out a tablespoon the first time we heard cutting words come from our daughter's mouth. Obviously our approach during the day was not lingering in Adelaide's mind--or her tongue. What could I have done to help her check herself before speaking? What could I have done to check my own self?

When I took communion this Sunday, I prayed that I would remember the taste of the cracker and the juice all week--and remember that the words (and tones) that come from my mouth ought to be sweet and pleasing to Him. I want the aftertaste of his body and blood to spill into my actions, my love for others, my words and correction with my children. And, of course, I want the same for them. So that will continue to be my prayer all week... and next.