THE BEST WAY TO SEE NYC

She’s a lot of fun – my travel companion, my new friend. She laughs when I do and sees humour in our misadventures (which is fortunate, because we’ve had quite a few). She’s patient with my map-fumbling and missteps. We’ve seen the same streets of NYC several times over, ridden the subway in circles and taken the could-have-built-the-Empire-State-Building-by-now ahem, long way, several times.

Sadly, her sense of direction isn’t much better than mine. But her sense of adventure is bar none.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our spats. She thinks she’s always right. Since I KNOW that I’M always right, it’s a problem when our respective rightnesses clash. What’s worse, I’ve learned that older isn’t always wiser and have had to concede to being slightly less right than her a few times. Ouch. She’s even less gracious in her concessions than I am. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.

Getting the Party Started

The red-eye flight out here was no picnic. After only 30 minutes of sleep I startled awake knee-to-knee and nose-to-nose with the unfriendly man in the next seat. Like most Canadians I find this level of unintended intimacy deeply disconcerting. I spent the rest of the night watching Downton Abbey reruns through bleary eyes. I’m afraid that no amount of Earl Grey can produce chipper after a night like that.

We yawned our way through the Museum of Modern Art (which was amazing nevertheless), Times Square (overwhelming), and the world’s worst tour guide. Finally, I understand how very annoying it is to my children when I start a sentence, trail off and leave it hanging in mid-air.

Tired, but still ecstatic to be here, we found refreshment in Little Italy. Is there anything a truly great piece of pizza can’t fix?

We stumbled into bed with visions of Broadway shows dancing in our heads.

NYC is full of New Yorkers

We nibbled at the Big Apple for the next 2 days. And it was delicious! There is something invigorating about this boisterous city and it’s Babel of languages and ethnicities and colours. We saw the Statue of Liberty, the Harbour at nighttime, the Natural History Museum, Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the 9/11 Memorial and the inside of WAY too many stores.

The tour book said not to greet people on the street, because they’ll think you’re crazy. After a few polite smiles and head nods I can report that this is, in fact, true.

Not only that, but they won’t get out of your way. At one point a man came to a dead stop directly in front of me. He wouldn’t shift left or right. Just glared at me, until I scuttled sideways, then continued barreling down the sidewalk. I’m not clear what game we were playing, but I’m pretty sure I lost.

This doesn’t mean they’re not nice. Though no self-respecting New Yorker would cop to a descriptor as wimpy as “nice.” Loud and pushy translates into exuberant and interesting if I remember my place. After all, this isn’t my world, it’s theirs.

When my “thank yous” were overly effusive, eyes rolled. When we stopped and waited for the light to change, people tripped over us. Rude is a cultural construct after all.

On the other hand, advice and opinions are freely offered in New York. Most people we talked to were eager to show off their city and give us their best efforts (the rest were simply hustling us for tips). There was the policeman who gave us directions, then outlined the itinerary he felt we should follow for the rest of the day. And the matriarch of a Greek diner we discovered (read: stumbled into while looking for something else) who knew exactly what we should eat… and was right. New Yorkers have a brusque charm that is strangely appealing.

Our Favorite Things

If you ask my daughter what the highlight of our New York trip was, she’ll tell you all about “Wicked,” the Broadway show that stole her heart. It was brilliant!

But my highlight didn’t come with a playbill or a souvenir postcard. The best part of this trip was being just us. With a big(ger) family, with the extra demands of special needs children, with her serious dance commitments and homework and paper route and growing social life, I don’t get much time to enjoy her – something I know will only get worse as the next few years fly by.

My Favorite Teenager

Turning 13 is a huge milestone. We wanted our own “rite of passage” to celebrate with our kids, so years ago we came up with a plan. We discussed the bat mitzvah-style parties and coming of age rituals which are becoming more and more popular, but they just weren’t “us.” A trip, however, with its concentrated one-on-one time and attention, a shared experience, an adventure, a memory… that has “us” written all over it.

Of course, NYC is more ambitious (read: expensive) than we envisioned, but it has been priceless.

I thought I would take this opportunity to parent intentionally. I thought we would have an important episode of the sex/boys/self-worth conversation, with forays into girl politics, healthy choices and 14 reasons drugs are for losers. But those are part of our ongoing discussion. She hardly needs an official sermon at this point, because we’ve been talking about it all along.

Instead, we had fun together. Turns out, that’s not a less important parental function after all. Especially when we are navigating a new level of independence on her part and more of a supporting role on mine. Turns out, that’s what we really needed.

Dear Teenager,

You already know that I love you. That I will fiercely protect you, and relentlessly hound you to do chores, and expect the best from and for you, and pray for you, and catch you when you fall.

But do you know how much I like you? Do you know that I WANT to spend time with you? That I think you are interesting, and bright, and kind?

We might not always get along like we do now, but that’ll always be there. When I look at you and when your Dad looks at you, we see more than what is. We see the best version of you.

Hopefully, because of this, you can see her too.

I saw her a lot this week, grinning at the camera in cheesy poses all throughout New York. She’s a lot of fun! I’m so glad I got to know her a bit better this week!

Love
Mom

The best way to see NYC has nothing to do with maps, or itineraries, or even tour guides… the best way is to see it with someone you have fun with.

So here’s us, travel buddies, explorers, friends… a great way to start the teen years. I’d highly recommend it.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

UGLY IS A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

The downside to 11-year-old slumber parties is clear – a very big mess, very little sleep and the very real danger of permanent hearing damage. If you have not experienced the extraordinary pitch and volume of excited pre-teen babble… well then, I’m happy for you.

On the upside, it’s a fascinating peek into the mind of children-becoming-women. I mostly hung out in the background at my daughter’s first sleepover party, as per her strict instructions. And if I happened to lurk in the hallway listening from time to time, who’s to know? After all, it is my house.

It’s a lot like I remember. A lot more OMG and iPod usage than I’d like, but the silliness and the shrieking and the inhuman levels of energy ring a bell. The enthusiasm of childhood intersecting with the concerns of growing up.

The birthday girl wanted a “fancy dinner,” so she and all her guests dressed up, then big sister played waitress and Mom played chef and somehow everyone got fed. There were candles and flowers and the good china and the good white tablecloth. It’s possible that more food ended up in the “wine” glasses than in their stomachs, but they weren’t complaining.

After cheesy party games, presents, a movie, pranking poor big sister and several hours of whispering (until Mean Mom made an appearance at 2:30 am), they managed to get a few hours of REM in.

Enough, apparently, that the next morning they found a few minutes to wax philosophical. They even asked me to weigh in on the conversation. I think the question had originally been asked in jest, but the discussion seemed pretty serious for pajama clad partiers.

If you had to choose,
one or the other for the rest of your life,
would you rather be pretty or smart?

On the surface, it’s a simple conversation starter. Like, what kind of superpower would you choose? Or where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world? Fluffy and unimportant. But in this day and age, for a group of young women just discovering who they are, it’s a serious question.

What’s most important to you? Who do you want to be? Why?

Of course, this is a rhetorical argument – we don’t have to choose, though it may seem like it sometimes (but that’s a blog for another day). And on some level, our physical appearance and natural intelligence is not within our control. We are who we are.

Accepting that is the first step to contentment. Still, we can nurture and enhance both our mind and our look. With limited resources, we tend to focus more on one or the other.

Our priorities and values, especially as women, can be largely determined by our devotion to either appearance or substance. It affects how we see ourselves and others. It affects our goals and our dreams and our sense of purpose. It affects how we spend our time and our money and our lives.

I gave the girls the “Mom Answer” they expected. Of course, I’d rather be smart. That’s what I was supposed to say.

Afterwards I wondered… is it really true? I mean, I definitely want to be pretty. I’d love to have movie-star good looks and wear size 2 and fend off drooling hoards of admirers. Who wouldn’t? But would I trade the power of my mind, the things I know and have experienced, my connection with God, my common sense, and my hard-won slivers of wisdom for that? Even just a little bit?

Never. Not for all the pretty in the world. I wouldn’t lessen myself that way.

Yet, women do that all the time. We live in a world that tells girls, in thousands of different ways, that their value lies in how they look and what they weigh and how well they can attract a man. Sometimes we even slap a “feminist” label on it and call that power. But real power isn’t being noticed or shaking your ass – real power is being confident, unique and strong in a way that is MORE than skin deep. The world doesn’t need more pretty women, it needs more smart ones.

Without time to prepare, I didn’t offer the eloquent, inspiring comments I would’ve liked. I said something about looks being temporary. That I need intelligence to understand and enjoy the world. That I want to do something good and important and make the world a better place, not just decorate it.

One little girl looked at me, then said, quite sadly,

“But then you’d be ugly.”

There was a pause then, before other conversations intruded and crepes wanted flipping and sleeping bags needed folding and the party carried on.

I carried that sad comment with me all day. And I wondered about the nature of ugly, about the world we live in and the world we’re making.

If a girl chooses smart. If she chooses substance. Could that, ever, be ugly?

So here’s my answer girls: don’t pick pretty. Pick smart. Even better, pick kind or brave or outstanding. Because there’s nothing uglier than a pretty face with nothing behind it.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

EVERY LITTLE GIRL WANTS HER DADDY’S LOVE

She twirls like a ballerina in her new holiday dress and shiny shoes, “Daddy, don’t I look pretty?” 

She jumps into his arms of safety after he encourages, “Come on sweetheart - you can do it - daddy will catch you!” 

She loves holding her father’s big, strong hand as they walk places and she adores hearing his voice call her his ‘little princess’.

‘She’ is every little girl - and she yearns for her daddy’s love as she begins to grow up. 

Not only would I testify to this for myself but I have had a front row seat observing the relationship between our only daughter and her daddy.

I’ve been taken aback as I have watched the yearning in my daughter’s eyes for her daddy’s belief in her capability. I see the incredible difference her father’s reactions make in her perception of her talents or skills. His words determine the outcome of her self-assurance and potential -- one encouraging word can literally boost her confidence to dream and risk and one critical word can send her straight to the land of insecurity, doubting herself. Fathers affirm competence and set the path for a woman to believe “I don’t have to prove myself. I can do anything.”

It’s amazing how my husband has become her ‘personal mirror’. The truth is that so much of of her self-image is reflected in the way her father sees her, the way he interacts with her, and the way he talks about her to others. If he compliments her and assures of her beauty, she feels like the most lovely young lady in the land. However, a simple throw-away comment or too much teasing can confirm her inner thoughts of ugliness; ugliness that no amount of make-up can cover. Yet, most dads don’t realize the power they hold in establishing their daughter’s self-worth.

Experience shows that fathers are very important role models for their daughters, especially in the puberty and teen years. A father is the first male that a girl comes to intimately know, and he can set the stage for how his daughter interacts in future relationships, especially with men. Just the other day our daughter declared to her dad that “he ruined her!” My husband exclaimed, “What? That sounds horrible - what on earth do you mean that I ruined you?” She went on to explain that, when it came to dating and marriage, he set the bar very high. She admires that he loves God so openly and has such a giving heart. She respects that he is a strong man with a tender heart. But, mostly, she never doubts that he loves his wife completely, creatively, and faithfully - and she has watched it all firsthand. Therefore, she isn’t going to settle for anything less in a young man. 

So, from a mother’s perspective, let me encourage every daddy out there to invest big in his little girl’s life. 

• Please support her interests and ask questions about what she is involved in. Build her up every chance you get. Be there for her games or performances. There is no substitute for your presence.

• Please compliment her. Hug her. Tell her how much you love her and how beautiful she is a million times while she grows up. Realize the powerful mirror you are in her life.

• Please “ruin her” and set the bar high by the way you treat your wife. Make your daughter feel like you want to be close to her. Take her on a date. Show her how she should be treated.

Dads, no one replaces the place you hold in her heart. 

Every little girl and every big girl wants her daddy’s love.

Share with me how your dad made you feel loved or how your husband shows special love to your daughter.

P.S. - Send this to a dad of a daughter.

CHRISTIE LEE RAYBURN

ChristieLeeRayburn.com