Weight in Line

This weekend was fabulous; we went to an apple orchard up near the Wisconsin border with some family friends. We picked our own pumpkins, we ate warm apple cider donuts, we took silly pictures. We had a blast. It wasn't too hot, it wasn't too cold. It was just the right mix of sun and clouds; you know a darn near perfect day.

Whenever we go to fall festivals, they have pony rides. Like any little girl, SarahAnne loves pony rides. She will save her allowance for weeks if she has to in order to ride a pony. She loves it; many happy pictures of her have been taken on top of a pony.

The whole morning of our orchard trip she talked about the pony ride; she couldn't wait to ride the pony and what color would the pony be and oooh could I take a picture of her on the pony?

We got in line to ride the pony; a measly four dollars for five minutes of sheer joy for her? Sign me up.

We saw a sign that said "Weight Limit XX" I'd never seen a sign like that, but though "eh, whatever" Bits is right around the posted weight limit, so I figured it wouldn't be a big deal. NOW, Bitsy is a big girl. By big, I mean she is tall. She is over four foot tall already. She's got a stocky build that she comes by honestly. There are very tall people in my family; I had a maternal grandmother who was over six foot, so it stands to reason that one of the grandkids on this side would be tall, right? Not only that but HH isn't a small guy either, he's six foot tall. Regardless, Bitsy doesn't look like she is six; people have asked if Gabe and Bits are twins because they are so close in size and looks.

SarahAnne was standing at the gate, starting to get giddy after picking out the pony she was going to ride when a woman who worked there said to her "come here, I need to weigh you" she made Bits get on the scale and when it pointed to four pounds over she said "yeah, sorry you're too heavy, you can't have a pony ride"

Annnnnnnd right then and there, Bitsy's damn heart broke. I watched her step off the scale and start to sob quietly until she was back next to me where the water works let loose.

NOW, I understand weight limits and size limitations; the rules are in place for the safety of the animals and I respect that completely. COMPLETELY. What I do not understand is why she was made to stand on a scale and then be told she was too heavy.

Could the woman have asked me if she was under the weight limit? Could the woman have had her step on the scale and then back off and say "oops, looks like you're too old to ride the ponies this year, sorry honey" Could she have possibly handled that with any amount of decency at all?

What lesson did that teach SarahAnne? That she's getting too old for pony rides? (nope, because a few weeks ago she did and there was no scale in sight...) That she's too tall for a pony ride? (nope) What did it teach her? That she was too heavy. Even at the age of six, she has grasped onto the concept of being fat, thanks to some little girls in her class who...well I won't get into that, it's not my place to judge but suffice to say, six year old children should NOT be worried about their sugar intake (she actually said "mom, I'm not going to eat sugar for a week, it makes you so fat" um no. NO. NO!) six year olds shouldn't be concerned that they need to take an hour walk each day in addition to the running around they already do because they are "fat". These are NOT the things six years should be worrying about...and yet...here's my six year old worrying about it because of what society is ALREADY telling them to be worried about.

I don't ever recall being concerned about sugar intake at six, hell even at twelve or thirteen I didn't care about things like sugar intake (and the only reason I do now is because my body doesn't particularly like sugar) I don't think I ever forced myself to go exercise at six and I can't remember being on a scale at ALL except for my yearly physical. I was never told that I was too heavy, I was never told that I was too fat, etc. Was I a chubby kid? Yup, I was. Was I healthy? Yup, I was. It didn't phase me. I didn't worry about it. I don't remember my mother ever being concerned with our weight (other than making sure we were eating well and playing outside-you know, normal mom stuff)

My heart broke for Bitsy on Saturday. I try my damnedest to make sure she has a positive self image because I know how it is to be a girl. Geo and I try to make sure she knows that we think she is funny and smart and clever, not just pretty. We don't place any emphasis on her weight because it's only one small part of her (and she is healthy...very healthy) and yet...when it all came down to it, the scale was the only thing that mattered that day. Again, I understand the concept, I understand the need for the rule, what I don't understand is the way it was handled.

I hate that at six she's already worried about numbers on a scale; I hate that she cried and cried because she is six and just wanted to ride the damn ponies. I hate that this isn't the first time someone has said something about how big she is and she has cried because she thinks she's fat. Just because she doesn't look like she's six doesn't mean she isn't for God's sake. Not to mention, that you shouldn't comment on anyone's size regardless of their age. Damn this vain, self absorbed culture we're part of.

Bullying

It's estimated that one in six children is regularly being bullied at school; as a teacher I saw it happening (and tried my darndest to stop it) as a kid in school I saw it happening-and had it happen to me, but as a parent, it was one of those things that I really didn't pay any attention to, other than to stress to Gabe and Bits that friends use nice words with each other and we don't ever hit our friends OR allow others to hit us.

I didn't pay attention because it didn't personally affect us; we have enough to worry about without adding bullying into the mix...and that worked for us until this afternoon. Without going into a ton of detail, Gabe was physically assaulted by a kid from his school on the walk from the bus to the apartment. Because of his shunt and the fact that he was hit ON the head with a loaded backpack, he had to see the dr to rule out a shunt problem or a concussion. Our official diagnosis was "multiple scalp contusions" which is medically talk for bruises on the scalp. We're supposed to let him rest and take some tylenol and just keep an eye on him. Tonight he was treated to a late night snack of cheese pizza and a movie with his sister. He's happily laying on the couch in jams, seemingly unfazed by the events of the afternoon...

But I'm bothered...and Geo is bothered...and our little "village" is bothered and now what? What happens next? I'm the mother of a kid who is being bullied and haven't got a damn clue what to do. The teacher in me is saying "go to the school and talk to them about it" the momma bear in me is saying "rip the kids head off" (irony at its' finest) and the rational part of me isn't chiming in because I cannot rationalize ANY situation when violence toward children is EVER acceptable.

For now, I'm just going to snuggle my babies close tonight and hope that tomorrow is better.

Darned if you do, darned if you don't.

I feel a rant coming on; a feminist rant actually. A damned if you do, damned if you don't rant. Yesterday an article hit the web entitled Tough Gals: Do They Still Exist. It was an article that basically said women are becoming too "girly". We're too girly because we blog about gardening, knitting, and cooking.

Yes, you read that right, WOMEN are TOO girly.

I'll let that sink in for a second...

It used to be that women were too "manly"; that we were trying too hard to be like men. The backlash over female politicians is just ONE example of women trying too hard to fit into a "man's world". Apparently women are no longer allowed to be girly, we must be tough, except that when we're tough, we're no longer girly and as EVERYONE knows (insert eye roll here) that's just not attractive.

It seems like women just can't do right by ANYONE. You're either too feminine or too masculine, you're either super mom or a horrible mom, you're either an overly devoted and submissive wife or you're the wife who has her husband's testicles in "her purse"

There is no middle ground when it comes to how we're judged; it's always got to be one extreme or the other. We fought for equality, we continue to strive to make this world a friendly place for our daughters, nieces, and sisters and every other woman out there. We don't want to be seen as the "weaker sex" (because honestly, it's not true-what man do you know can squeeze a watermelon out of a lemon hole and be up walking shortly thereafter?) Women before my generation fought so that we could be tough OR girly...or a combination of BOTH. They fought so WE didn't have to fight for these things...and yet, here we are, all these years later STILL fighting for the right to be ourselves...whether we're ball busting politicians, girly cupcake baking bloggers, or somewhere in the middle.

It seems like it's a never ending battle; as women we'll never please anyone...so we might as well please ourselves, huh? So keep on you cupcake bloggers, you kick ass front line military women, and you somewhere in the middle ladies going about your day to day business. You don't have to live up to anyone's standards and expectations than your own-that's what generations of women before us have fought for-the right to be ourselves-don't let small minded people take that away from you.