Parenting — Life — Life at Lancaster Land

Growing up, a young girl living in rural Oregon, I was taught to be nice.

Nice.

I also learned somehow, somewhere that pretty had value. There’s a bunch of places that came from - TV, music, magazines, the movies. I don’t know anyone who didn’t want to be Kelly Kapawski dating Zach Morris (Saved by the Bell, anyone?) in real life. So this young girl growing up in rural Oregon probably had a similar experience to young girls growing up all over - you better be nice and do your darnedest to be pretty.

I would run out of fingers and toes counting the number of times a man has told me to smile.

And I certainly couldn’t keep track of the number of outfit changes and hair re-dos and using makeup as a shield day after day as I got older to try to fill up my confidence cup. So when Elsie got home from school one day with a smile on her face and a story to tell, holy guacamole, it made me smile for real.

“Mom, I made Greyson laugh at school today!”

I immediately think back to seven-year-old me and can’t remember talking to a boy, and especially not being funny around one. I would have been nice, sure. But I was busy playing games with my girlfriends under the big cedar trees on the playground. Curious, I asked how she made the boy giggle. She proceeded to stick out her tongue, roll her eyeballs to the back of her head, contort her button nose which created the most hilarious and special and out-of-this-world silly face.

“I did this!”

I laughed and laughed and goodness, my heart swelled because first of all, it was super funny but most of all, this girl has confidence overflowing.

And then I remembered the old saying - kill them with kindness and I can’t even tell you how wrong that is. Because what does it really mean? Are we telling our little girls to stay small and to take a backseat and to the boys and to smile when they tell us to? Or are we telling our little girls to stand tall and be themselves and to hold their ground and prioritize themselves over all of that other noise? And let’s be honest, that noise is LOUD. What we should be doing is approaching every interaction and every moment with a not-too-gentle of a swap of words - that kindness with confidence. That’s going to fill our cups, confidence and belief in ourselves being genuine and good over all things nice and pretty.

She then showed me another silly face and another silly face and then another and another.

I don’t know about you, but to me, being yourself and being genuine and being confident in all that you are and that you have to give the world - that’s where it’s at.

It was a snowy weekday and we found ourselves relishing in the reality that it was likely the one and only good storm of the season. They don’t come around as often as they used to, so when they do, it’s pretty exciting. The inches of the white and fluffy stuff was piling up, and after the (in)famous sled-hill was prepped and ready, we spent the afternoon launching ourselves off of what would soon be considered the best hill in the neighborhood.

For the record, “neighborhood” is a gracious assumption. What we have are a few superstar neighbors who drive over, or hop the fence to give us a little bit of that feeling of community. We love it.

After a couple of hours, we dragged our chilled-bodies inside. We took our boots, snow pants and gloves off and warmed them up near the fireplace and had some cocoa with extra marshmallows. The day itself was delicious except for one thing.

Elsie’s cousin, who lives just a few miles away and also for the record, is part of our “bubble”, couldn’t make it through the snowstorm to come play. The roads hadn’t been plowed and out here, our streets quickly turn into a one-lane sketchy-fest of a drive.

The six-year-olds were devastated and the grown-ups felt pretty bad too.

Hours later, Elsie’s cousin came bouncing through our front door. It was nearly dark. Our snowsuits were hanging to dry and we were settling in for the evening. But, the roads had cleared a little, and her dad was able to make the trek over.

“Piper, I’m SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE.” Elsie said with the most honest, warm, wonderful tone and her cousin reciprocated. “Me too, Elsie.”

The cousins laughed, hugged, laughed some more. We all put our winter gear back on and headed outside. Again, delicious.

The thing is, when I heard Elsie say those words I actually felt Elsie say those words. I felt it deeply.

Because how many times have you showed up somewhere, and you weren’t acknowledged? How many times have you entered a room to be given less than a glance of recognition? How many times have you wished for someone just to share how glad they were that you were there, that you made an effort? I bet once or twice or maybe many, many times, you’ve been excited about something, and the person on the other end didn’t share those feelings out loud with you and maybe it hurt a little.

Even if your presence is expected, it’s status-quo, and it was assumed, even so, why aren’t we shouting from rooftops how grateful we are for someone showing up for us? Even if it’s virtual. Even if it’s metaphoric.

Why aren’t we confident enough in ourselves to be outwardly grateful to others? Because that’s it, you know.

We don’t say those things because we’re scared. We’re afraid how we’ll be seen, and we’re afraid that by being just a little vulnerable we might get hurt. So our fear causes others to feel unseen, and that’s a pretty ugly thing.

Because showing up counts.

And we need you to show up.

And we need to hear how grateful someone is for us doing those things.

ESPECIALLY NOW. Especially when “social distancing” has allowed us to drift away from each other just a little too much. Especially now.

The kids and the grown ups sled and crashed and laughed until it hurt until it was so dark we couldn’t see past our noses. Our bodies were freezing, our hearts were warm.

We need you to come bouncing through our relative front doors, ready to play, Even if the snow’s turned to slush and the sun is almost down. We need you to assume you’re welcome, because you are. And when you show up like that, you better believe we will tell you how grateful we are.