Although I do a fairly good job of keeping myself in continual state of pop-culture ignorance, I am not unaware of the spectacle that a certain Cyrus put on at a certain award show on Sunday night. While I won’t go off on the value of SUNDAY of all things, and I won’t put myself through the torture of the video (photos are bad enough), I do need to address this. Why? Because I have girls.
Of course, we talked about it the next day. I heard about it from my oldest and my husband who do not live in a box as much as I do. My youngest three, of course, heard about it at school. Ugh. The good thing: they all thought it was disgusting. Yeah!!!
Today I read this post from a mom and blogger that’s currently going viral and as much as I loved the letter itself (clicking my heals in joy that something GOOD is going viral), I also appreciate this letter in the comments below from a daughter to her parents.
Just when I decided to work on our own “social network” at home, this is another great conversation starter.
As I printed the letters for my girls to read, I imagined the long meaningful talk that we’d have. We’d sit for an hour, hug, cry, share… it would be a beautiful, drama-packed, Hollywood movie moment that I would remember forever. Funny thing… this isn’t Hollywood.
I asked my two tweens to read the letters when they got home and without question or complaint, they each put their backpacks down began to read. It was quiet. There were no snorts or noises of disagreement. They finished both letters, looked up, and when I asked them what they thought, they said that they agreed. That was it.
There was no lengthy discussion nor sudden revelations. No hugs, tears, or apologies. The moments were quiet, but perfect. And though my daughters can rival the drama of any Hollywood actress on most days, it wasn’t necessary today. Quiet sincerity is all we needed.
I asked Miss Twelve who’d had a fit this summer about a bikini that I wouldn’t let her wear to the beach (my oldest wore it at a much older age) if she understood better now why I have rules like that and she said yes, then asked if the new (MUCH more modest) bikini that she’d picked out was ok. Yes. And that’s the great thing. She’d asked before she bought it and then she asked again for confirmation. Yes. For all the days I’m a wreck worrying about them, these moments tell me they’re ok.
It’s good to talk.