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Bottling Up Happiness: Affirming the Mother-Daughter Relationship

May 10, 2013 by Pat Cousineau Leave a Comment

Last weekend we held a Mother Daughter workshop, called Helping Moms & Daughters Thrive. Co-host Marthe Teixiera, teen life coach, and I wondered if we could pull it off at such a busy time of year. We did. And here’s what we learned.

1) Time is Precious

Moms and daughters like to spend time doing out of the ordinary things. Making a commitment to spend a few hours out of an overscheduled life to do something unexpected offers an opportunity to delight in the unfamiliar. New experiences were created, and we believe even a small shift in routine can lead to a ripple effect over time.

2) Safe Havens

Moms are super busy. Often frazzled. A number of moms even worried that a 2 ½ to 3 block would be too long. It ended up not being enough time. We found we could have spent a half-day or longer talking about joys, worries, concerns, and how our own teenage years influence how we parent today. There may be a retreat in the making.

3) Rewriting Stories of Adolescence

Moms have little opportunity to reflect on their own teenage years unless they make deliberate time. After years of blocking out our own adolescence despite the fact it forms us in very deep ways, it can be hard to revisit. We did this with a letter writing exercise:

“Now imagine that this Younger Self has the ability to see who she grew up to be. . . into who you are today.

What does she notice or remark upon? Your teenage self will write a letter to the woman you are today.”

There is something about recognizing and letting go of the past to release moms and allow them to parent their daughters in new ways – and thereby re-parenting themselves. One mom, who was relentlessly bullied, realized how strong she was as a teenage girl and remarked on how she came through it with a resilience she didn’t truly acknowledge. Another mom talked about body image and her daughter’s embarrassment at looking the mom’s old photos. It must have been tough for mom to see her daughter’s embarrassment.

One mother reflected on how confident she was as a girl, and how hard it can be to witness her own daughter’s struggle with assertiveness. Another mom reflected about having the very same friends her whole life and that she’s just learning now to stretch outside that comfort zone – and finding it exciting. In contrast, another mom never kept in touch with anyone from high school and remarked on that. These are all of our stories. How these stories influence how we parent and raise our children requires more time. Let’s allow it to happen.

4) Same Old Same Ole – No More

Girls today contend with similar issues around fitting in, body image, and friendships. Yet, in a girl culture that is so vastly different today a new set of skills is required for moms. Simple things, like asking both moms and girls if they knew each other’s social network user names turned into a surprising revelation. Most didn’t know. For a hot issues – online girl culture and texting – that give moms so much anxiety, we haven’t focused attention it in our communities. It’s requires new education.

The girls worked on their own collages, focusing on what makes them who they are, outside of physical appearance and looks. Marthe offered about a series of discussion questions about body image and confidence building. As always, girls are happy to chat but providing new questions and a different context can foster meaningful dialog and new perspectives.

5) A Fresh Kind of “Reset”

The mom-daughter yoga session was very moving for many. Despite giggling girls and “awkward” gestures like making a lion roar, the room became entranced. It highlights how little time we take to breathe and stretch. It seems so simple yet unavailable to many of us today.

When Renee guided the group a set of hand movements, called mudras, with the following words I personally felt like crying. With 13 year old at my side, I heard her voice, among a chorus of other girls and moms say out load:

“I am wise.”

“I am brave.”

“I am beautiful.”

Not once, but twice.

I felt we could all change the world in one moment.

6) See Poetry in Everything

Moms and girls created encouragement jars together. The simple premise is that moms and daughters need to receive positive words from each other now and again… not just about achievements, but about who they are — their beautiful souls.

But it can be awkward at this stage. Dropping notes in a jar is one way to send a message. The moms and girls had lots of fun designing their jars. We had hundreds of affirmations to offer the group as a starting point. We hope a new tradition may take hold and both girls and moms will write their own affirmations.

These are simple things. These are teachable moments. Vulnerability, courage, playfulness… and quality time reflected in simple rituals. It changes the mean of Joy-ful.

With sincere gratitude to all mothers, I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.

* * *

Contact me fore more information about mother-daughter workshops and Moxie Mom Coaching programs. I’m happy to have a Free Mom-Empower Session with you.

Marte Teixiera, Renee Cinelli & Tara Cousineau, PhD

Mums the Word On Safe Sex? Enter Plan B For Teenage Girls

May 3, 2013 by Pat Cousineau Leave a Comment

I support access to emergency contraception for teenage girls.

So be it that the contentious discourse about birth control continues. But as of this month, at least one morning after pill is now available over the counter to teen girls as young as 15, provided they show an ID with their age.

As far as I can tell the scientific research shows that a morning after pill has no effect on pregnancy rates. Nor is there evidence that teens put themselves at more risk knowing there’s a possible “out” when it comes to unprotected sex. What access to Plan B gives is another option in the reproductive health tool kit. Those folks who say it’s an abortion pill aren’t reading the science on how it works and maybe they don’t even know how female reproductive organs function. Just sayin’.

Over the counter morning after pills also allow for easier access in the event of sexual assault or if a condom breaks. Any teen or parent hopes that neither situation happens. So maybe it’s time for a chat. Better late than never. After all, appropriate parental involvement is a protective factor for the wellbeing of teens.

But when it comes to talking about sex, many parents just cop out.

Parents as Prevention

Health prevention education works. We know it works because teen pregnancy rates in the US have consistently dropped over the years and more teens postpone intercourse, with the average age of first intercourse at 17. Research that looks at the type of sexual health education offered shows that states with comprehensive sex education have lower pregnancy rates than states that support abstinence-only education.

The discussion that is not taking place is the one between parents and their teens, no matter what one’s point of view about sexual health. We can’t rely on schools. The standards for sex ed are meager and inconsistent. Actually, they are pretty pathetic. Sex ed, if you can even call it that, occurs twice in the K through 12 years. The first birds and the bees chat happens, typically, in the spring of 5^th grade. The second discussion is about four years later in 9^th grade biology class when teachers discuss human physiological systems. No wonder middle school remains the landmine of emotional drama. Teens are left to figure things out on their own.

All the other sex education comes via friends, social media and a few billboards. It’s a rare school or program that offers a course in Human Sexuality.

I always like to go to the source when it comes to discussion about teen sex ed: teenagers. I did this today given the recent news of the “Plan B” product approval with the purchase ability by 15-year-old teenagers.

Being stuck as the reluctant carpool driver this week to bring a bunch of, yes, 15-year-old girls, to soccer practice in the middle of nowhere, I had a good hour to ask questions of this captive audience. My daughter was mortified. Frankly, she’s used to this by now. Her friends were more than accommodating to chat it up.

Q: Do you girls know what Plan B is?

All: Plan B?

Soccer Mom: Yes, the morning after pill.

All: Ooohhhhh….. Yeah.

Soccer Mom: Under what circumstances would a girl use it?

A pregnant pause as it were.

Girl 1: Well, if a condom broke I guess.

Girl 2: Or if a girl was raped.

Soccer Mom: Knowing that a girl your age could go to the drug store and buy it by showing an ID, do you think that this birth control option will change how teens think about sex?

Girl 3: What do you mean, like have unprotected sex?

I was trying not to lead them, so I’m sure I sounded vague.

Soccer Mom: Ok, sure.

All: Nooooooo.

Soccer Mom: Ok, you’re saying that because I’m a parent you know. But really I’m just doing a dispassionate focus group here. On the issue of emergency birth control what does the morning after pill NOT do?

Girls 1 & 2: Stop STDS!!!

They shouted in unison. Go Ms. G, biology teacher.

Soccer Mom: Let me ask another question.

Girl 1: Mommmmmm…..

Soccer Mom: Let me ask you experts in the back seat.

Q. Would you have a conversation with your mom about contraception or safe sex?

Girl 3: Never. If I even started to ask about it, my mother wouldn’t let me out of the house for a year.

Soccer Mom: You mean your mother wouldn’t be open to having a “talk” with you?

Girl 3: Well, she might talk at me about it. But the only reason I would ever ask my mom about the morning after pill is if I were, like, raped.

All: WHAT???

The whole mini van shook.

Soccer Mom: You mean that the only way you and your mom could talk about it, you’re saying, is if there was a crisis, where something bad happened to you?

Girl 3: Basically. She won’t even let me be on birth control for my acne.

Soccer Mom: Ok, I get where you’re coming from. What about you?

Girl 2: Well, talking to my mom about sex would be awkward. I don’t think we’ve ever had the talk. But I have my older sister. She’s not much older, though. Not sure what she’d say, really. Nothing helpful!

Girl 1: Mom, did we ever have a talk? I can’t remember.

Interesting.

Soccer Mom: Well, sort of. We did the whole shopping down the feminine supply aisle. I still get on your case about being a good role model for your younger sister on the girls stuff, and using the period tracker app…. and we signed you up to participate in the Our Whole Lives program last year unless you blocked it out of your memory bank.

Girl 2: (laughing) Oh, was that your sex ed program?

Girl 1: Oh god, it was 26 weeks. I missed one class the whole year. And, let me just say, ok, it covered EVERYTHING.

Soccer Mom: The rides home after class were a fairly lively, if I recall. That was sort of like “the talk” or maybe lots of mini-talks. More like the talk-after-someone-else-did-the-talk. Took the pressure off me and Dad a bit. But maybe we need to revisit some things…

Girl 1: No thanks.

Q: What if there was someone else in the friend and family circle, like an aunt or former baby sitter, or a friend’s mom that you could talk to in confidence?

Girl 3: Nope. My mom would find out from her best friend, and whatever she dug up, she might not ever say anything to me. But she’d still lock me up for a year.

More laughter.

Girl 2: I like talking to my mom about most things; we just never have talked about this. I guess I’d talk to another cool mom, but I think she’d tell my mom anyway.

Girl 1: Mom, seriously, if I talked to [our old babysitter] that would be really awkward.

I thought about some of my teen clients. Some will readily inform me about the latest on teen life, tell me what hooking up means to them, or confide that they are planning to lose their virginity at prom. They are my source. None would share these thoughts with their mothers. So I’ve gotta believe my daughters won’t be much different. It won’t be for a lack of my openness.

Soccer Mom: OK, but let’s just say that moms got together and made a pact that each of you could go to another mother – like a “mentor” mom – to talk to when things got sticky. You know… on whatever: stress, school, boys, sex, or drinking. But the only reason your “confidentiality” would be broken – that your mom would find something out – is if the “mentor” mom thought you might be in danger, physically or emotionally.

Q: Would you reach out to another mom or family friend?

All: Maybe…

Soccer Mom: Here’s the thing. Your moms all want you to be safe and sound. The last thing they want is for you to get pregnant unintentionally or raped. Right? That’s a bottom line. Don’t you think they’d much rather have you feel comfortable and open to conversation, if not with them, then with someone else? I know I would be relieved to know there is another mom or trusted person you could confide in. Seriously.

All: I don’t know. Yah. Ok. Maybe. That’s weird.

Soccer Mom: What you all seem to be saying is that whether you have a good or close relationship with your moms – or not – you wouldn’t even think about discussing birth control or sex. That only in the most dramatic, worse case scenario would you confide in your moms! Don’t you think there could be an easier way?

* * *

We arrived at the soccer field. They all gathered their gear, water bottles, and lumbered out of the van. Vibrant souls. Open yet closed. Venturing out into the world of grown ups… somehow thinking they escaped my questions until the ride home. Maybe they were thinking that one way or another they’ll figure things out for themselves.

I thought to myself: These three girls have pretty savvy moms. Well-educated, fairly involved, more or less easy to talk to. They have health care and access to health education. In their young minds it would be worse to admit to sex or wanting to have a plan for safe sex – for fear of punishment or disappointment or embarrassment – than to risk their connection to their moms. When it comes to sex, mums the word.

It’s time to change the dialog. It starts with you.

* * *

Resources: Talking About Sex: List of Books

Postlude: Heartbreak Hill for Boston

April 22, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

Today my daughters return to school after a spring vacation week like no other in their short life histories. Exactly one week after the Boston Marathon bombings. Somehow Bostonians are venturing back into their lives, altered by the recent events in ways that are hard to yet define. Friends and acquaintances participated in the marathon in one way or another—as runners, roadside spectators, or observers from home or office. The Boston Marathon. Red Sox. Patriot’s Day. A spring rite of passage unique to Massachusetts where kids get a day off to kick back and enjoy. No obligations to church, temples or parades. Just local fun and games. Now a little boy is dead; and his mother, a member of our town’s local women’s fitness club, and his little sister, are severely injured.

Josie turned 13 this week, ushering in a new era for her sense of identity, and mine as well. How was I to make the girls’ spring break one of celebration amidst chaos? As the events unfolded and Boston was pulled into a drama unlike any in our recent history I found myself having to chuck the newspapers before the girls awoke, listen to NPR on the sly and in small doses, struggling to make sense of it all.

On Facebook, the photo of Mister Rogers circulated with his motto that when bad things happen to think about all the helpers. But when so many of the helpers are SWAT teams, armed FBI, local police and state troopers, or brave fans holding the bloody injured, the images are hard to reconcile with our notions of help. Comfort? Solace?

Yes, all the helpers. God bless them all.

Back in the safety of our homes many of us were either fixated on the media or valiantly trying to minimize its constant intrusion. Most of us were trying to do regular things with the children. Like feeding the neighbor’s cats while that family was blissfully vacationing, or raking up the leaves to reveal the trumpeting daffodils, or watching my older teenager attempt to sunbathe in the backyard under a chilly sun while reading Romeo and Juliet for her English class.

Most telling for me was when Sophie anticipated an oft used (if empty) phrase I am guilty of: “Statistically, events like this are very rare.”

“Mom, you can’t say things like this happen once a decade. What about the Aurora movie theater? What about Sandy Hook?” Right. Schools, movie theaters, streets of beloved cities. The very places our children live and play.

Indeed, Sandy Hook was devastating for me as I grew up in a neighboring hamlet in Connecticut and have a number of high school friends who are raising families in Newtown. And now: Boston. The world seems ever so small. That the US senate failed to pass the gun legislation this past week was another heartbreak—for the Newtown families and for us—yet overshadowed by our local drama. The tragic consequences of that failure will be great, considering that tens of thousands of people die each year from gunshots.

We can’t tune out the realities of violence in our world. Nor can we forget that simple joys exist. In fact, we need to seek them out. Purposely.

As my little one celebrated her birthday on Friday night with her chums, the intrusion of the final chapter in the manhunt unfolded. Several of the girls had their cell phones in hand while dancing and singing, reporting back on updates, even after my failed attempts at turning off the TV. “They found the guy. They found the guy!” Eventually they all fell asleep in a heap among sleeping bags. The next morning the girls wandered outside and plucked daffodils at the edges of neighboring yards. “No, we didn’t go into people’s gardens, Mrs. Cousineau!”

Josie’s actual birthday was on Sunday. And yes we all had to go to church. No easy outs. If anything, we needed the structure of the four walls of the simple white clapboard church and to be among a community in mourning.

Running shoes of different sizes and shapes and colors were placed by the candle alter. Simple and eloquent. And heartbreaking.

It’s Cool to Be Cruel: How Moms Can Help Girls

April 11, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

It’s hard to imagine that anyone who heard about the recent teen rape case in Steubenville involving two teenage boys sexually assaulting an unconscious, drunken 16-year old girl and broadcasting it over social networks, would be anything but horrified. For some of us, it was further compounded by the news coverage that portrayed the high school football players in tears at the verdict. The pubic felt sorry for them. That the violence and psychological harm done to the girl became incidental to the story incited an outrage in social media circles. And this has happened before in other communities with even more tragic consequences for the girl victim.

But the teachable moment was largely lost among our teens. Mostly, they didn’t hear about it and no one told them about it. Maybe the story just didn’t ruffle enough feathers. Yes, teens do stupid things. They also do destructive things. But let’s just say that there are people who can do something with such a newsworthy story: parents, coaches, teachers, school guidance counselors, or club newspapers, anyone? Might they not serve as potential messengers for violence prevention programs or constructive dialog when such incidents happen?

Can we all please wake up?

When I took the opportunity to share the story with my 15 year old, she was shocked indeed. Her face scrunched up for a few moments imagining the party scene. This long pause was then followed by a “Thanks, mom, that’s really nice to share. Thanks a lot.” If it made her uncomfortable, that was the point.Our girls and our boys are growing up with social media and in a culture that amplifies the objectification of women and the destruction of

Our girls and our boys are growing up with social media and in a culture that amplifies the objectification of women and the destruction of intimacy like never before.There is no healthy sexuality taught in schools or churches. At each turn girls and boys are learning new values, largely from online culture and media, and parents are largely clueless to it. Gone are the values of kindness, respect, speaking one’s own truth, collaboration, and constructive play. What have they been replaced by?

According to Catherine Steiner-Adair, PhD, an esteemed researcher and psychologist who speaks with kids around the nation, the top three cultural values for our children are:

Presentation
Objectification
Instant gratification

Today, the goal of “being famous” is more important than being productive, generous or industrious. Having the right “package” wins votes on talent shows. How many ‘likes’ or ‘follows’ supersedes any experience of intrinsic self-worth and mutual regard. According to Steiner-Adair, the three most insidious online memes for girls today are: mean girls, slut chic and ana chic (as in pro-anorexic).

Ready to run yet, moms?

I’m right there with ya. Girls are being marketed padded bras and manicure parties as early as grade school, and tween boys are now the largest growing audience of violent pornography. This makes the days of hidden Playboys stuffed under mattresses appear a sweet pastime.

It’s not any better for moms and dads. The self-absorbed or bitchy career mom has replaced the ditzy stay-at-home mom; and dads are often depicted as lost puppies not knowing what to make of the females around him.

In my house, if any media totally exemplifies the emerging values of our girl culture, it’s Dance Moms. It is the perfectly edited compilation of mean mom/mean girl culture if ever there was one. But that’s rant for another time.

Yes, our cultural values have gone down a sinkhole and it will take a mighty effort to reverse the trends. But it can be done.

Moms out there, it is your job to intervene early and repeatedly… with girls especially. It’s a now a major part of your job
description. You need not be in their faces with worry or highfalutin dictates, but simply be observant, consistent, patient, and gentle in guiding your daughters as they grow up. Inoculate. Don’t check out. Don’t assume anyone one else is going to teach them or that issues like violence prevention, body image, dating abuse or online cruelty will be covered in a health class.

What to do?

It’s really simple. It just takes consistency.

Here are six strategies:

1) Pay attention.

Really pay attention to what’s going on in your child’s world. Show interest and be inquisitive. This matters even if you don’t get any acknowledgment from your kid. They soak up everything you say and do.

2) Converse about what you and your child see on TV, in the movies, and online.

Hang with them when whenever you can in front of the TV. Teach them about the roles of ads (what are they trying to sell; how are they getting you to want to buy; how does the ad make you feel?). Then, when it’s developmentally appropriate (4th grade and up), constructively analyze how girls and boys are being portrayed and what your child thinks about it.

3) Limit their exposure to the Internet for as long as possible.

A major coming of age milestone is now getting a cell phone. When it comes to tweens, seriously consider the introduction of a smartphone with access to the Internet. Honestly, my younger daughter got hers too early (at 12) and having an older sister using one tipped the balance. Instagram scores big with this crowd and you now have to add time to periodcially scroll through the banter of tweens, just when you want to spare a few moments to relax in in your busy day.

4) Set rules for media use and texting.

You can demonstrate the appropriate use of technology for your child. Like…don’t drive and use your cell phone or text. I have been guilty of this, “Oh, I’m at a stop light!” (It’s confusing to kids when you lecture about safety and you casually use your cell phone when they’re in the car.) Turn off media during mealtime. Shut down media early in the evening so the brain and body can relax. Avoid use of technology on family vacations, too.

5) Talk about the tough issues that may make you uncomfortable.

Like ….sex, dating abuse, rape culture, hooking up, drugs and alcohol, and the effects on the teen brain. Organizations exist that have scripts and toolkits for parents of adolescents on how to initiate a conversation.

Friends are more important to teens than anyone else, so talk about that, too. Friends can be like a drug stimulant to a teenager and that’s why they do risky things with friends. It’s how the brain works. It’s a social high.

This is also why humiliation by peers can be expereinced as a final blow and can result in teen suicide. We see it again and again. It’s heartbreaking.Talk to them about the meaning of intimacy, friendship, social responsibility and leadership. (“Why is so cool to be cruel these days? Where does that come from? Do you think that’s why So&So sent out that text?”)

Don’t know when to bring it up? Find the quiet moment, like when you are driving or sitting around watching a show. This makes it easier when the inevitable girl drama, or social slight, or stupid incidents happen – or, god forbid, a tragedy close to home. You’re building a foundation for conversation – and by being open and non-judgmental you’ve set forth the values of thoughtfulness, appropriate behavior, and respect.

6) Be a role model.

Behave in a manner you want your children to follow. What you do is more important than what you say. Uphold your core values. Be brave. Walk the talk.

It’s as simple as that.

* * *

Resources:

There is a teachable moment every day – from stories of the schoolyard to the media they consume. Ask about your child’s day. Be perpared when sticky things come up. Here are excellent resouces for parents:

Catherine Steiner-Adair – Her new book comes out Aug 2013, The Big Disconnect: Protecting Childhood, Family and Relationships in the Digital Age. (She recenlty spoke at the Atrium School, in Watertown, MA.)
Miss Representation – Watch the film with your teens. Educate yourself on current and problematic gender stereotypes in our culture
Spark Movement – Girls empowerment movement
Common Sense Media – Guides for parents on media
Drugfree.org – Toolkits for parents on substance use, additictions, and getting help

A Dress and a Tween Girl’s Delight

April 7, 2013 by Tara Cousineau 1 Comment

I Feel Pretty

She didn’t have to say it exactly. She exuded it. She danced it. She jumped on the sofa. She twirled.

A new dress on a (very) skinny tween.

“Look, it fits perfectly!”

I watched Josie with pure joy – and a silent gratitude to the Universe. Thank you.

You never know with an item ordered online what will burst out of the package. It could result in tears just as easily as triumph.You never know when your child, acutely aware of her “smallness” relative to her friends, will feel mighty in her own power or crushed at the snide comment of another 7^th grader.

As a mom, I find myself often holding my breath because the tiniest shifts in the fragile social world of middle schoolers can mold a girl’s sense of wellbeing for life. Is it not true, kindred moms, that some of our most defining moments happened when we were but 11 or 12? Or maybe 14 or 15?

And maybe that was the essence of my sigh of relief. Old stories need not reappear in our children’s lives. Just maybe Josie can come out of it unscathed. When those old haunts do reappear, however, we can hold them with such love and compassion for our younger selves that we heal. And this may not happen until we watch our girls grow up as I am experiencing right now. Self-compassion. It’s from this place we can do the best for our girls – so that any slight on her personhood can be cushioned with our deep understanding.

That may be easier said than done, of course. And our modern world offers new means to amplify any kind of emotion, positive or negative. In the world of tweens. It’s called Instagram.

She accumulated 81 likes on her Instagram in about 24 hours. But even before her posting of “the dress” for her all-girl gymnastics banquet more than two months away, I know that the heartfelt joy came from her own soul. It wasn’t the ‘likes’ from her friends or some notion of retail therapy we moms like to do every so often for ourselves. (Do we ever dance and twirl in the dressing rooms of the dress shops? Hell, we should! )

For a girl who either flits about in oversized sweat pants or a skin tight leotard, who has ankles wrapped in tape, or time and again tearfully misses a social gathering because of a commitment to her sport, a dress that fits is a dress that fits.

And as a recovering self-conscious boney gal myself, it’s was befitting to witness.

In wearing her new dress Josie claims her radiance.

Look at me! I am free and alive and beautiful.

Let it be so.

Why Girl Empowerment Movements Will Never End

February 16, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

I’m continually struck with the amazing number of pro-girl organizations and initiatives that are spawned and nurtured by amazing people—mothers, fathers, celebrities, journalists, social activists and girls themselves. I track these organizations, their tweets, campaigns, cyber pledges, polls, and share these missions as best I can with my daughters and broader social networks of mixed company.

…and many more.

I’m also sobered by the realization that pro-girl initiatives will be needed perhaps as long as humankind exists. The efforts for girls’ education, empowerment and entrepreneurship– the three Es are necessary for the health and vitality of the world. Although I feel privileged to exist in the place and time in which I find myself, there are so many parts of the world where girls and women are oppressed in unimaginable ways—where basic needs and human rights are priorities. In the Western (and ostensibly advanced) USA where I raise my daughters, the onslaught of negative cultural messages targeted at girls appears to be at a peak. So is a contagion of destructive coping strategies among girls—disordered eating, cutting and self-harm—to name a few of the most searing and heartbreaking of silent epidemics. These conditions are now amplified by social media and mobile communication, a medium that has its advantages and disadvantages depending on how they are used.

In a conversation with dad of a struggling daughter we lamented over this state of girls’ health and the recipe for tragedy–where shame and secrecy, combined with the viral effect of sharing insidious ways to deal with stress or despair, have fueled an adolescent health crisis. He noted that boys are next as he reflected on his son. (The cultural assault on our boys is a topic for another discussion but has been well underway for many years and is inextricably intertwined in our gender scripts).

It’s impossible to guard against the assault on my own being—as an adult woman and a mother—or to even feel empowered to protect my girls
from blatant, sexist and narrow gender typed messages. And it’s getting worse. It’s one reason why I created BodiMojo.com ad the DailyMojo blog by girls. Even after three waves of feminism (the last two tidal waves on which I surfed), progress is in peril. Despite some enlightened media outlets and cause marketing to stem the tide, I confess I often feel a backward pull.

I recently heard Deepak Chopra speak at the Massachusetts Conference for Women (Dec 6, 2012). He told a beautiful story about his mother. His remembrance evoked an image of a strong matriarch, grounded, spiritual, and in control, and who never failed to think of the welfare of others as a model of sustainability and growth. To an audience of over 8000 women, Dr. Chopra spoke of a universal shift toward feminine power—one that has been a guiding force for him. “It’s arrived,” he said. And you could feel it in the presence of a sea of women—the possibility, the hope and renewed energy.

Yet, at a private level, in my small world of raising teenage girls in a household that espouses the three Es, little things peck away—eroding my girls’ confidence while it is just in the making.

This became most poignant recently with my 15-year-old Sophie. On the surface she is a smart, confident girl on varsity sports teams in freshman year, involved in a youth group at church focused on social action,has a great group of friends. As parents, my husband and I are fairly relieved at a smooth adjustment to middle adolescence. Yet, we still hold our breath.

She’s also “pretty” by cultural standards. Indeed, a panel of judges might consider my daughter to be a promising “package.” This word is now flippantly used to describe a human being. The phrase speaks volumes about how American Idol or The Voice shape our cultural scripts. Of course, like many teenagers, Sophie has put up a “good cover.”

Few signs of distress could be discerned from her, other than complaints of homework, bad coaching, or sister fights. And even less is available about her inner world—until that secret life appeared on her Twitter feed.

Before she had her own iPhone she’d check her Twitter account on mine. I’d hear the retweets pop up. I didn’t totally mind this, although I was getting particularly annoyed one Sunday when there seemed to be a flurry of conversations I cared not to be interrupted by. Then I see that her friend had retweeted a comment Sophie posted earlier:

I wish I was pretty like the girls on Tumblr.

My heart stopped for a split second.

Wait. Does she really feel that way?

Shit. Tumblr?

Does she have a blog there, too?

Moms always think they are on top of things. Nope. Sure enough, her Tumblr blog was stated on her twitter profile. I clicked on the link.

I scrolled and scrolled. What I see is an amazingly creative, stream of posts, not unlike the magazine collages my girlfriends and I would spend hours making. As teens we would cut out images from Seventeen or Teen Beat, rearrange letters and glue photographs—photosthat we had to spend our babysitting money on and wait a week to get developed on Main Street. It was heartfelt work. Collage making was a teenage girl’s right of passage, along with hundreds of notes folded into triangles, pressed in the back of jean pockets, and saved in shoeboxes.

Thirty years later my daughter is doing the same thing with modern tools. On her blog she had reposted pictures of baby animals, muddy female soccer players, various Olympians. So, too, were numerous gorgeous girls and guys, in the strict, gendered ways media portrays male and female beauty: Skinny girls with long hair; guys with glossy six-pack abs. (Really, are there any other images available?)

And I thought I was so smart in not having any beauty magazine subscriptions at home.

I was heartened somewhat that her mixed media clearly portrayed vestiges of coming of age. It was cuteness, love, courage, athleticism, and positive quotes. Just scrolling the blog undoubtledy evoked feel-good hormones. An Oxytocin hit.

I thought, Ok, this is totally normal. There are no images of violence, self-harm or pro-anorexic girls. But how to start a conversation about her comment on Twitter? I had told her clearly I’m not snooping when my own phone alerts me to her social network. She knew I was getting these and could not figure out how to disable her account on my phone (she later did).

She’s a very private child. A private child with a public channel. The only way to bring up her comment about girls on Tumblr (AND Tumblr) was in the car.

Driving side by side we can usually talk with ease, not having to look the other in the eye or hide flushed cheeks. We talked about her height (she’s disappointed to have peaked at 5’2), her “poofy hair,” and body image; and once again we discuss social media, the blessing and curse of it, and how to manage it with discretion and privacy. Of course, she finds me too serious or overly concerned. Oh my god, Mom, really?

But my mother, who cared deeply about her two girls, never asked how I felt or ever wondered about my emotional life. She did not prepare me for puberty or offer to buy me a bra. I wish she had. And if she had asked me how I was doing? I may have dismissed her outright. I’m sure I scared her.But on some level I would also know that she was at least curious or courageous enough to ask me.

I have worked with the most wonderful and connected of parents who become flabbergasted to learn about their own child’s conflicts or pain. Many adolescents do not want to upset parents, or disappoint them, and many don’t know how to approach them. They live secret lives on many levels.

There are no easy answers. Parents aren’t mind readers. The hardest part for parents now seems to be how to genuinely connect in a hyper-connected
world—a world increasingly devoid of interpersonal nuances, emotional cues and heartfelt empathy. Yet, the answer always seems to be the same:

Stay connected, listen, and be present
Know who your kid’s friends are, and know who these friends’ parents are
Observe their social networks online and offline
Be curious but not intrusive
Notice media messages and consumerism with them
Share (with discretion) some of your teen challenges and how you got through them
Have clarity on your own internal story of body image, identity, and self-esteem
Take a witnessing stance and notice what you may (or may not) be modeling for your child
Join and support organizations that support girls and make it a part of family life and core values
Help girls see the plight of other girls to challenge their perpectives, to broaden world view, and foster global sisterhood (the upside of social comparision)
Find older and near-age mentors and role models who may be perceived as more relatable and less intense than you may be (i.e., find
a cool younger person)
Be open, authentic and courageous; be honest about mistakes; go forward with love
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

There is no silver lining playbook for ushering our girls into the adult world. Love and connection is the way.

My Teenage Daughter’s Room

January 27, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

This is my 15 year olds daughter’s room on a typical day of the week.

I told her I took photos of it for “evidence.” Mommmm, she grumbled. Then she forgot
about it as she chirped about her midterm exams, which one was easy and which one she is so sure she failed. Ladi-ladi-da.

I watch her mouth moving but can’t hear her. I still have her room on my mind. It is worth driving home a point about her total irresponsibility as a living member of the household when she is in this total flaked out phase in her teen life? Where clearly the neural networks have yet not fully developed when it comes to organization?

You see she had some extra time on her hands this week given her exam schedule— some early dismissals or late starts. She coulda tidied her room a bit.

But no. She’s perfectly content to live in squalor.

Squalor, it is. My limit on my patience, I‘ve told her more than once, is when she could be serving meals to the mice that live in the walls and in the seams of the dirt basement in our 250 year old New England home. The critters have frequented our premises, especially during a deep freeze like the one we are having now.

It was such a week of testing my tolerance. I found two un-eaten brown lunch bags in her trash, and one in her backpack, and another in the den. Clearly, the specimens were in various states of decomposition. I concluded that she might ditch at least one lunch a week that her father painstakingly makes at about 6:10 every morning.

So discovering the old, moldy, stinky lunches and four quarters in the trash was it for me. I’m of German stock. I believe I carry a diluted strain of an OCD genetic marker, plus the endless training during my childhood with my German mother. My sister and I could not even think about leaving the house on a Saturday to play in the neighborhood if our rooms weren’t spotless. That meant dusting every surface—every knickknack, book binder, and our glass menageries. It also included washing the linen and hanging the sheets on the line no matter what the temperature—a reprieve there, at every two weeks. We had to hand wash and dry the dishes and if there was a pet, like a turtle or hamster, the cage got cleaned. It also meant taking turns scrubbing the tub and toilet bowl. There was no discussion about it.

Not only that, the regular laundry was only only once a week. We had to use one towel each. If jeans got dirty, oh well. And they did get dirty because we played outside every single day, usually in the woods. We were not to waste water, soap, or leisure time. God forbid a dollar was found in the trash.

Do I bother to share this bit of “well, when I was a kid” history with my girls? No. Well, ok, sometimes.

I tell Sophie that she clearly has the “pile” gene from her dad. I try to minimize going into his home office, too, because the feng shui is so… chaotic. Mounds of papers, work folders, old bills, a few guitars, and foot pedals populate his “space.” Neither of them has adopted my daily practice of tidy office, clear mind. Fortunately for me, my younger daughter is a neat nick and balances things out a bit.

On occasion Sophie shows some acknowledgement of the situation, some tenuous thread of conscientiousness. “Mom, I know my room is a
mess. I’ll clean it up after [soccer practice/the boys basketball game/Pretty Little Liars].” Or a text: Don’t go in my room!

My bottom line: I avoid her room Monday though Friday and during PMS, but expect that if she wants to socialize on weekends her room must
be clean. This is because I want to feel relaxed in our home. And if my mother comes to visit—about twice a year—I hire cleaners. It’s a mental health investment.

I figure Sophie keeps up her room on weekends about 50-65% of the time. I realize my standards are leagues higher than hers, and can only
hope she will be more mindful when she has a college roommate.

Here’s the thing. She’s got four more years under our care. I don’t want her room to be an emotional battleground when other issues are sure to challenge our parental limits.

I figure when that one hungry mouse scurries across her room, there won’t be anything that will need to be said.

I almost can’t wait for that to happen.

My Daughter’s First High Heels

January 22, 2013 by Tara Cousineau Leave a Comment

She said she needed a pair to tan flats for the older girl’s sweet 16 party. That’s what I heard anyway. So when Sophie bopped into the car with her mall pals I said, Let’s see the shoes!

Silence.

She pulled them out. A pair of high heels. Yes, tan. I paused. Impulsively, I gave her the look.

I thought you said flats, honey?

No. I said I needed tan shoes to go with my coral dress.

Those are really high, I mutter.

Her friend rather politely says, My mother prefers that I didn’t wear high heels, either.
(Thanks, friend. Might you have piped up at the store?)

I was instantly catapulted back to my little attic bedroom with the floral wallpaper and slanted ceilings. There, in the crawl space at the far end of my teenage hideway, I hid a pair of shocking red high heels.

My mother would have killed me. Or rather, she would have gone into full hysteria, waling about how hard she works raising us girls all by herself, and what do we have to show her for it. And so on. Then she’d pray.

I was 17 at the time. I worked at a shoe store in town. I got an employee discount. Had my mother discovered the red shoes I would have pulled out the “it’s my money” card or “you can’t tell me what to do anymore” or point out all the expensive shoes she hid in her closet for her job in the city. (Of course, I knew where to look).

Ah, my not-so little girl and her new pumps.

It was a moment of mourning.

Sitting there turning on the engine, I thought, here is my choice point. She knows how I feel. I could demand that she return them. That would cause a fuss. An angry exchange, more likely. Humiliation in front of friends; potentially more so in front of a hip sales clerk at Charlotte Russe. It would ruin her night at the party. The anticipation would have been punctured. The girls were giddy about going to an older teammate’s coming of age celebration. For weeks, they had been texting pictures of dresses, even though they only own one or two since the 8^th grade dance—a mere 6 months ago.

Or I could let it go.

So I did. I took a breath. I thought about my red high heels, and all the other secrets I had in order to preserve whatever relationship I had with my mother. In the 30 seconds it took me to back out of the parking space and scan their bright faces, I thought: These little ladies will wear their high heels for about 5 minutes. Then they’ll dance barefoot.

And they did.