Not A Hipster Mom

When it happened, she caught me completely off guard. For a few seconds, all I could think of was that scene in Kindergarten Cop, when the little boy stands up in front of his class and proudly proclaims, “Boys have a penis, girls have a vagina!” much to the amusement of the other children.  My daughter was sitting on the toilet, when out of nowhere she started to imitate the way little boys hold themselves when they pee.  “Mommy,” she said, “this is how Dylan goes pee pee at school.”  I nodded, and said, “Yes, baby, that’s because Dylan is a boy. Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina. Dylan is a boy, and you’re a...” I waited for her response.  “Girl!” she shouted. But it didn’t end there. “Mommy,” she said, “I want one.”  “You want what,” I said in shock, “a penis?” “Yes, Mommy. Me have one when I get bigger?” she asked hopefully, her face as sweet and eager as a kid on Christmas morning. “No, baby, you will never have a penis,” I said with as seriou

I make a point of telling of my two-year-old daughter that she’s pretty every day.   I don’t want her to think that her worth is based on her appearance -- and I tell her that she’s smart and funny every day, too -- but I make a special point of telling her that she’s pretty. Because while I frequently heard that I was smart when I was a kid, I very rarely heard that I was pretty, and I developed a complex about my appearance that to a certain degree still persists to this day. Not only was I rarely complemented on my looks (even though photos prove that I was in fact a very cute kid!), but I rarely heard adult females close to me saying anything positive about their own appearances, either. In short, I had no role models for healthy female body image, and as a child and teenager I spent a lot of time wishing I looked like someone else -- preferably someone blonde with  tan legs, small breasts and an overall Kelly from 90210-type look.  The fact that I grew up very religious,