Big Red

I read a Babble article awhile back written by a woman who was disappointed her little blonde princess sat quietly in the corner willingly giving up her toys to more bossy, bigger children. She lamented that she didn't want her daughter to grow up to be a pushover, she wanted her to stand her ground. I know, I could go link the article, but I am being lazy like that. I am sure you can find it if interested.

I didn't take much issue with the writing. Or the scenario, no one wants their kid to be a pushover just like no one wants their kid to be the bully. A happy medium is preferable.

I was torn with the article, the confusion of emotions I felt were wrapped up in resolving physical versus personality characteristics. You see the play group bully was "Big Red" described in a not so flattering way.

Or maybe I am just overly sensitive?

I cringed everytime I read "Big Red" in that article. I considered navigating away but apparently I am a glutton for punishment.

I grew up in a common era believing that being "Big" was bad for a girl. My mom worried what I would grow up to be like since I was a big baby and to top it off, I had red hair. An anomaly in my family. A Big Red.

When my just over 6 lb blonde baby sister was born there was a sigh of relief. As I got older and heard the stories describing the differences between my sister and I when we were born I interpreted it that at least one baby wouldn't be an Amazon! I also interpreted it as favoritism.

And before I go any further I just have to say that there is a quote out there to the effect of, "you never know how much you are loved until you have children of your own". So, so true. I am a mom who was a very, very loved child. And I have every confidence in that. What child didn't grow up thinking their sibling was the favorite? So back to the regularly scheduled program...

I feared being "big" to the point that when I heard somewhere that coffee stunted your growth I used to sneak sips of my grandmothers vile brew while I was over there. Hopeful that those little quantities, because I could not stand anymore than that, would make me petite.

By third grade my growing slowed and I came home exclaiming to my mom that I was one of the shortest ones in the class! Goal achieved. I was proud of myself.

I grew to an average height while my sister passed me up and is a willowy 5'7" to my not so willowy 5'5".

My children at birth were so nearly identical, even in appearance, that I not so jokingly have said that if I don't label their birth pictures I wouldn't know which was which. Though the delivery room was oriented opposite for each since I was in room 4 for Leif and room 5 for Skadi. But as I have mentioned before, and you can see by the pictures, my Beaner grew. And grew.

And I love every morsel on her.

Despite this I still bristle when I hear or read "Big Red".

I loathed being called this as a kid and it was routine until age 8. It would nearly send me to tears and even now I have bit my tongue more than once when observant friends and strangers have called her "Big Red".

I don't fear her being a big girl like I feared growing into one myself. Did you watch Dancing with the Stars and see Leila Ali? Talk about beautiful. Gabrielle Reece? Wow.

My girl will most likely not crack 6' tall because AB himself is 6'1", the same height as his dad and the tallest ones on their side. My dad is 6'2". So we don't have an abundance of tall genes in our family and they are equally balanced out by the short genes.

Skadi is on her way to slimming down with her increased mobility. I even bought her jeans for next fall. And I can very nearly buy her clothes with reckless abandon and not have to worry about the strechiest elastic waists.

Still... yes... I am sensitive about comments to her size. Because to a mom, you are talking about a piece of them.

And how many adults do you walk up to and touch their rolls and comment about them being big? Even if said in a flattering way, you might make it to two if the first one was being kind.