My kids, and self-esteem.

My son is a sweet and gentle and sensitive boy. He is handsome and polite and appealing inside and out. He is an active, inquisitive explorer. He is thoughtful and funny and a follower. He is a super kid, and he is more likely to be challenged by poor self-esteem than my daughter is. How do I nurture this sensitive soul?

This morning, while I was in the shower, Sam came in in tears. His friend (who has imp written clearly all over his handsome face) had slept over the night before. The boys were up early, full of high spirits, loud voices and wild ideas. One of these wild ideas involved using sunscreen on Sam's toy cars outside. I'm still not sure exactly what they were doing with the sunscreen- I'm not sure I want to know. Regardless, they went through two bottles, both brand-new, of sunscreen. Sam's tears were from not wanting to get in trouble about the sunscreen, but wanting to tell me anyway. Like I said, he's sensitive. I think I "got it" okay. Like the mom in Sixth Sense, I showed him my face and asked him if he thought that it looked like I was getting him in trouble. He agreed that I wasn't, and went off, tears dried. (The boys went to play at the friend's house shortly thereafter- I'm supposed to be cleaning up Rice Krispies -how did they get them into every room in the house?- and sunscreen, instead of blogging....)

How can I keep my precocious, spirited, head-strong daughter from suffering the burden of poor self-esteem and issues around her parenting?

She is a super kid. She is feisty, independent, smart, cute, tiny. It will be a few years, but she will reach puberty. I don't know how to help her through that tumultuous time, and through the trauma that is adolescence, with her spirit intact. I don't know whether it will even be an issue. I hope my own struggle with self-esteem will not impede my ability to parent this challenging child with grace and wisdom. I hope that when I do not succeed at being the parent I want to be, I can still be gentle with myself. That example will be at least as beneficial, as a parenting tool, as "doing it right" would be.

As I write, Sydney is playing busily with a variety of animals on the floor beside me. One animal got "sick" and she, calling it "sweetie", has tended to it very lovingly. Likewise the animal who had the "bad dream". If my child, in playing with her dolls and animals, is a reflection of the world around her, maybe her mother has been giving her a pretty loving message after all.