I So Beautiful Me

Pebbles, my 2 year old, has a *very* healthy self-image. She will get dressed in the morning, put a bow in her hair, or throw on a crown (backwards, nach) and declare “I soooooo pretty,” or our personal favorite, “I so beautiful me.” It makes us all giggle and fawn over her all the more. And when someone tells her she is pretty, or smart, or so cute, she giggles & says “I know.” I know. How awesome is THAT?

I suppose every mom out there thinks her little angels are the most gorgeous creatures to ever walk the face of the earth. I certainly am no exception. {And this must be a biological imperative of some sort, because I can now, 7 years later, objectively reflect back on Dude’s early days, covered in scabby baby acne and admit that he was not, at that time, the most gorgeous creature ever.} We {or … am I the only one?} tell our children from the earliest moments how beautiful and adorable and perfect they are, as we kiss their tummies and nibble on their toes. Hoping it sinks into their wee psyches and lasts them a lifetime, helping them in their inevitable moments of self doubt.

We pile on the praise, about their looks, their mastery of feats like “soooo big” and crawling and stacking rings. We throw in kudos for their intelligence, creativity, use of words, clapping their hands, dancing. They are awesome. They are ours. We never want them to think for a moment they are anything less than wonderful.

I so beautiful me.


But then, they get older. Did you know self-doubt starts really young? And how much these kids pick up on? I remember when Dude and Fancy were in swim class … Pebbles was a baby, so it must have been when they were 6 and 4. And Dude comes home one day and says “Mom, this girl in my class said she loves ice cream but she doesn’t eat it anymore because she’ll get fat.”

Fat. At 6. {and as a side note, I have seen this girl, and she was far from fat} That one scared me a lot.

Fancy has more self-doubt than Dude. His confidence seems far-reaching for the most part, so long as you’re not asking him to do something that he might have to actually practice. But Fancy, through all her love of her fanciness and her blonde hair, isn’t too sure. She came home from Kindergarten one day & said “Mama, I want to change what I’m wearing for pictures tomorrow. Because my friend Madyson (yes, cre8tyve spelling) said she will definitely be wearing something cuter than me.” Le sigh. {I should interject here with a little note about Fancy’s wardrobe. It’s um, a bit excessive. And quite nice ifIdosaysomyself.} And this week, as Dude is having a little more success at the swimming pool, she’s saying things like “I’ll never learn to swim until I’m TEN.”

I so beautiful me.

Where did that go? And how do I get it back?