You're So Vain...You Prob'ly Think This Shiner's About You
Our two-year-old girl has her second shiner in as many weeks. She reacts pretty strongly to mosquito bites, it seems, and in the last 14 days or so, she's had one right on the bridge of her nose and, as of yesterday, one high on her left cheek. What was a red spot just below the outer corner of her eye at dinnertime yesterday was a rosy circle beneath it this morning and a swelling that had swallowed her lower eyelashes this afternoon.
Needless to say, she looks pretty tough and a little bit strange. The swelling has misshapen her eye just enough to give her an alien appearance, a setback that didn't bother her in the least. But it did bother me.
When we dropped big brother off at preschool this morning, I found myself offering the other moms a generally unsolicited explanation that Little Bruiser had been bitten or stung, not brutalized by a member of her family. I did the same when I bumped into a friend as we retrieved the schoolboy. The injured party remained relatively oblivious to the attention--or so I thought.
In the afternoon, we were playing outside when our neighbor approached to chat. Again, I immediately pointed out the eye, but this time, instead of looking up to show off the shiner, the poor little peanut ducked her chin to her chest and tucked her head between my neck and shoulder. She did the same thing when the waitress at the restaurant where we had dinner tried to take a peek.
It's difficult to sort out whether the gradually increasing inflammation around her eye or my incessant apologies for its appearance had the greater effect, but I do know this: over the course of 10 hours, my little girl's attitude about this temporary facial deformity of hers went from unfazed to uncomfortable. And it's evident that my vanity helped beget her self-consciousness--a realization that has me choking on humble pie.
The line between mother and child is a fine one, and it's all too easy to ignore when I selfishly expect my kids to fit into my vision of who they are--and who I am. I'm the mom with the cute little girl, not the mom with the girl who looks a little weird. How ironic that vanity, centered as it is on being beautiful, is such an ugly thing.
Needless to say, she looks pretty tough and a little bit strange. The swelling has misshapen her eye just enough to give her an alien appearance, a setback that didn't bother her in the least. But it did bother me.
When we dropped big brother off at preschool this morning, I found myself offering the other moms a generally unsolicited explanation that Little Bruiser had been bitten or stung, not brutalized by a member of her family. I did the same when I bumped into a friend as we retrieved the schoolboy. The injured party remained relatively oblivious to the attention--or so I thought.
In the afternoon, we were playing outside when our neighbor approached to chat. Again, I immediately pointed out the eye, but this time, instead of looking up to show off the shiner, the poor little peanut ducked her chin to her chest and tucked her head between my neck and shoulder. She did the same thing when the waitress at the restaurant where we had dinner tried to take a peek.
It's difficult to sort out whether the gradually increasing inflammation around her eye or my incessant apologies for its appearance had the greater effect, but I do know this: over the course of 10 hours, my little girl's attitude about this temporary facial deformity of hers went from unfazed to uncomfortable. And it's evident that my vanity helped beget her self-consciousness--a realization that has me choking on humble pie.
The line between mother and child is a fine one, and it's all too easy to ignore when I selfishly expect my kids to fit into my vision of who they are--and who I am. I'm the mom with the cute little girl, not the mom with the girl who looks a little weird. How ironic that vanity, centered as it is on being beautiful, is such an ugly thing.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:50 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home