10 Reasons You Should Be Glad You're Short

Wish you were taller? Think again.The air isn't better "up here." Really. It's exactly the same as "down there." And there's a lot more to it. I am almost six feet tall and can tell you it's not all roses. Here are my top ten reasons you should be glad to be vertically challenged and give your self esteem a boost.

1. Tall isn't skinny. Skinny is skinny.

I sometimes hear people saying that if they were tall, any extra weight would be more evenly proportioned and their overall appearance would be improved. I don't like to be the one to contradict, but this makes no sense. Tall people already have "extra weight" simply by having more vertical mass. Since bigger bodies require more energy and nutrients to maintain, tall people have to eat plenty of food. What that means is, if you have the same health habits as a tall person that you had as a short person, the weight gain would increase in proportion to the new size. Here is the nicest way I can say this: When I have extra fat on me, I look like an ogre.

2. Tall people still have to use stools and stepladders.

An extra 6-10 inches is not the same as an extra 3 feet. I still have to use a stool to reach into, and see the back of, all but the lowest kitchen cupboards. I frequently find myself standing on a chair.

3. Tall people do not make better basketball players.

Strength, agility, speed and great hand-eye coordination (and a whole lot of practice and dedication) make great basketball players. Height can help in some positions but it's not the end all. Some amazing players are short. See this link.

4. Height does not mean you should be a model.

Some of my sisters have been models and none of them are more than usually tall. Some are quite short. Anyone can be a model. If you have healthy hair, you can be a hair model. If you have nice hands, you can be a hand model. Nice neck, feet or skin? You get the picture. Plus, with all the photo editing, the magazine pictures of models don't even look like themselves. The only thing required to be a model is work. It's a work I never wanted to do. I simply don't care enough about my appearance to want my paycheck to depend on it.

5. Being a tall girl makes it harder to find taller guys.

If you don't care about this, good for you. I, however, do like my date to be a leetle taller than me. Tall guys are not exactly in short supply (see what I did there?) but the chances of hitting it off don't increase just because you look good together. Finding the right person for you is hard enough as it is. Now try adding height into the equation. I feel blessed that my hubby is one inch taller.

6. Clothing challenges rise to new levels

If you can find pants long enough, it's like a miracle. A very expensive miracle. When you do find long ones they are usually too big around. The perfect fit is pretty much only available at the mall and runs approximately $70. If you're still growing (and you can never tell!) it's pretty pointless.

All too short. And that shirt I'm wearing, it's a dress. 

All my favorite knee-length dresses have become thigh-length dresses. And they were so cute! Sniff. Shopping has become something like a bad dream. You're looking and looking for something. You can't find it anywhere and then you realize all your clothes are missing. Aaaah! Wake up! It's not real. Oh, wait. It is.*%^&

Beautiful dresses that would be stunning on a shorter person look like a shirt on me. A weird, evening gowny shirt. (Or maybe lingerie.) Speaking of shirts, they are made for short torsos. The designers can't/won't lengthen them without also increasing the width, so finding one long enough pretty much guarantees you a tent. Did I mention that you can't trade clothes with your short sisters?





7. High heels make you a giant

This is bad for two reasons. One, all the really cute shoes make you taller than all the really cute guys. (The guy I liked in the beginning of my sophomore year in high school was six inches shorter than me by the end of it. Not cool.) Two, you're so tall that if you trip, you fall for miles, or so it feels like. Even when you aren't falling, you're like a floating head. Just floating around above everyone else's heads. It's even worse on skates.

8. You hit your head on things

Low doorways. Crawl spaces. Attics. When you sit in the back seat of a car and your head bumps the rear window the whole drive, life is pretty ridiculous. I haven't even mentioned leg room in cars and planes.

9. Sinks and counters are too low to use without stooping.

Short people are always complaining that they have to stand on their tippy toes to reach things. Well, tall people have to do that too and at least it doesn't destroy your posture. It gets super annoying having to bend so far all the time just to do the dishes. And they should make counters taller. I'm taking my protest to new heights. Seriously. I may refuse to cook.

10. People always think you're the oldest

People will think that your younger siblings are your children. Your older sisters will be mistaken for your younger sisters and people think you're a grownup when you're sixteen.That's not all bad (hee hee) but you'll never blend in at your old high school (just in case you were sent there on assignment like in Never Been Kissed.)

If this doesn't pump some gratitude into the hearts of all you short people, I know something that will. Just think of all the closet space you can fill with your smaller clothes. Extra room for all those super cute high heels. I hope you trip. XOXOXO

I'm Not The Mom I Planned On Becoming

If there were such a thing as perfect parents, our kids would develop a false impression of the world and unhealthy expectations for themselves. Good thing we never come close. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that failure is good. Allowing our kids to fail helps them learn. Allowing our kids to see us fail, helps them develop realistic expectations about themselves and other people. Parenting is a balancing act and sometimes "we all fall down." I sort of wish I'd known that earlier in life. Then again, it might have reduced some of my most glorious failures. Epic, you might say.

I always wanted to be a mom. As a kid, I got into the habit of taking care of people when they were sick, and giving them hugs when they were sad. I learned how to talk to kids so they would understand. I taught my younger siblings how to write their names. My mother saw to it that I became an expert diaper changer, and tried her best to make me a good housekeeper. I read books on child rearing, health and nutrition, education, discipline and fun craft ideas.

Pity it did me no good. Any head start I ever had on the whole mom thing was screamed and diaper-changed out of me in the first week of motherhood.

 Back to square one. Never mind what all the other babies like. What does this baby like? This baby liked being held at all times. This baby cried from boredom and hated being alone. (Funny. He still does.) This baby made me take all of my parenting theories and throw them out the window. Here are some examples.

1. I will never yell. My child will learn how to handle anger and other emotions from watching me and I must set a good example. 

Whoever came up with that one is living inside a rainbow made of flowers and fairy dust. Or they just never had kids. Infinite patience does exist, but mortals don't have it. Should we yell all the time? No. Should we try to keep our cool? Yes. But here's the deal. The kid's job is to find out what your limits are. They will never stop pushing until they find it. We are human. We fail, often miserably.

Here's what I learned: If I learn my own limits, (often thanks to my son's prodding,) I can set healthier ones that never approach the screaming zone. If I must yell, I can leave the room.

What happens when I fail in all my ambitions and yell in spite of myself? I am teaching my children that people are not perfect, but they can say sorry and try to do better. I am also teaching them how to get along in a society of imperfect people. Learning that other people have anger and limits is a benefit for kids.


2. If I never hit, my kids will never learn to hit.

Wrong. Both my kids started hitting at about nine months and I don't know where they learned it. They were hitting me. I thought with my first one that if I never reacted, he would get bored and stop eventually. Not so much. My son's hitting continued until he got a firm swat on his hindquarters. Then it was over. He had found the boundary. That seems backwards, doesn't it? Actually, it's just teaching natural consequences. He can learn in the safety of his own home that he can't go around hitting people. (I did teach my kids that they can stand up for themselves if they get bullied. They are, in effect, teaching natural consequences to other kids when they do. The idea that self defense is "bullying back" is all nonsense.)

3. If I Never Buy Toy Guns, They Will Never Play Fighting Games

Well, they didn't learn it from me. But they did learn it. My sons played Army, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys, Pirates and every other game that involved fighting. They made action figures fight each other. As there were no toy weapons in the house, they used their fingers as a guns and pointed them at me. Bang goes that theory.

What I learned: They're boys and inherently interested in fighting and protecting. One will make a great Jedi someday (that's what he wants to be.) The other might be a ninja. (What does a ninja do, anyway?) Or maybe he'll be a brilliant military serviceman or law enforcement officer. As long as he uses his powers for good and doesn't go to the Dark Side, it's alright with me.

4. I'm Going to Be Such a Fun Mom

If chores and homework are fun, then yes. Actually, I am pretty fun, but not as often as they or I would like. We go to museums, farms, games, movies zoos, aviaries. We have picnics and outings. We have read-a-thons and awesome pretend games. But we also have work to do, things to learn and bills to pay. I can't always be with them. (I have a job, need breaks, and they don't always want me.) And I say no. A lot. (Candy is bad for you! I'm sorry!)

What I learned: Cleaning house can be fun too. If I can teach my children to be glad in work and play, to entertain themselves, to come up with fun ideas on their own, and to keep a house and budget in order, I am preparing them for a good future.

5. It Will Be Easy to Tell When Discipline is Necessary And When Not

Fact: I struggle with it all the time. The balancing act again. Did he do that just to be mean or does he have some other reason? Is this really a big deal? Did he really even do it? Maybe he needs to learn these consequences on his own. They will work it out by themselves. Maybe I should just give him a break. I would hate to be in trouble all the time. The thing is, I thought I would be a lot more strict than I am. I hate giving punishments. I would rather listen, reason, explain, hope for the best, and give another chance. They really do want to make me happy.

What I learned:  Most of my kids' naughties don't require any reaction from me because they are just not very important. Sometimes they just want to make me laugh. Often, they want my attention. Like me, kids need to make mistakes in order to learn. As they grow, so does their agency. They need to practice using their agency because they have a whole lifetime of decision making ahead of them. Basically, my job is to teach correct principles so they can govern themselves.

6. Parenting Will Be Hard

You have no idea! I had no idea how hard it was until I did it. I've been doing it for seven years and it still throws me curve balls. Every day. I have rarely spent so much time running, or on my knees. There's always a bigger question, always a greater challenge. The fact that we've made it this far is nothing short of a miracle.

What I'm learning: I can do hard things. Sometimes I look ahead into an uncertain future and think, There's no way I can do this. Later on, I look back and think, I can't believe we did this. I am not alone. God, angels, my husband and a host of other moms and dads have got my back. We can do this.


Am I a good mom? I'll just ask my kids.

They say, "Yes, because you feed us" and "I like Mommy because she's nice, but she spends too much time on the computer." (And "My feet are messing up the bed because they're too strong. I need different feet. Somebody needs to take me to the feet store and take these ones off and put new ones on. I know why they're so strong. It's because I ate so much salad.") There you have it. Even in my failures, I am still being a good mom. And it's time to get off the computer.

Baby Batman

When my youngest boy was about two years old, he climbed into my lap and said, "I was a baby Batman and you are a mommy Batman. He was a baby Batman and he want his mommy."

That's when I knew this kid was going to be super fun! I had always known that I wanted to raise my own children and not send them to daycare. With the help of kind employers, family and obliging coworkers, it has worked out. Sometimes its a struggle, but my husband and I have managed it so that one of us always takes the boys. We have been amply rewarded for our efforts. We get to spend time with them.We get to be there! I feel blessed in all the sweet moments I've been a part of. Over the years, "Batman" has amused us by his funny way(s) of talking, his amazing sense of humor and his fantastic imagination. You'll understand what I mean.

For one thing, he loves Batman. This is actually pretty useful for me as a parent. When he had to drink a nasty medicine, I told him it was a special potion that might turn him into Batman. He drank it. One Easter Sunday, he broke his poor little arm (walking up a slide.) I took him in for casting and expected that he'd pick green, his favorite color. However, I knew that it would be filthy and disgusting in about... one day. In my head I was singing the scouting song, "Black socks! They never get dirty. The longer you wear them the blacker they get." It was his choice, but he went with black and it still looked pretty clean six weeks later. Thank you, Batman.

It's pretty obvious who is his favorite superhero, but would you guess that a three-year-old would have a favorite direction? Well, he does and it is East. Anytime you want to hear pure and unbridled enthusiasm, just tell him you're going east. You will get "Yay! Yay! Yay!Yay!" for up to five minutes straight. He loves east. I don't know why, but it sure makes me smile. (Speaking of smiles, this kid lights up the room. Between his blue, dancing eyes, and those  irresistible dimples, He just might persuade you to do anything.) He also likes north, and sometimes west, but if we're heading south, we don't bring it up.

As you might have guessed, car rides get pretty interesting. "I Spy" might be the greatest game ever invented. Here is one game we played.



           Me: I spy with my little eye, something black.
           Batman: Is it a duck?
           Me. No...
           Bat: I spy with my one little eye, something blue.
           Me: Is it a car?
           Bat: No, it's a duck.

Funny how I didn't see any ducks.

Sometimes you'll guess for a long time before he makes up his mind about what it is he's looking at. Sometimes he'll change his mind. Usually, he'll end up picking something you've already guessed. Power of suggestion.

The best game was at night, when we were driving through a canyon. He'd spied something black. Just try and figure out that one. Is it really black or does it just look black because it's dark? And how will we know? We never did get it.

It gets crazier playing Twenty Questions. I mean, at least in I Spy, he can only spy REAL things, right? RIGHT? When he starts up with "I'm thinking of something!" It could be anything from a tree to a giant ball of cheese bigger than a house. When it's his turn to guess, he always starts out with "tree" and inevitably gets to "RTD2." Sometimes, he gets tired of hearing "No" in answer to his queries. He'll just restart the game. On one occasion he declared, "Whoever says no wooses. Whoever wooses, it's my turn."

Sometimes, as we're driving, he'll see a mountain. He'll get super excited and start commanding, "Singa mountain song!" (Country Roads) So we'll have to sing, "Countwy woad, take me home to the place I belong! West Virginia..." He's John Denver's cutest fan. Once we heard this song at the grocery store and he told me, "They played it for me because they thought I would like it." I had to agree.

This kid has been saying funny things since the day he learned to sign. (The first time he signed "milk", he retired from signing and learned to speak instead.) At three years, his favorite phrase was "Boo-hoo to you." Don't even ask me where he learned it. We used to play the animal sound game. We would ask him "What does the horse say? The duck? The whale?" Once I asked him what the human said and his response was awesome. "Na na na na Batman!" He calls his brother Denny, (as in "Denny, back off my stuff.") and more recently, Milk Dud.

The way he talks is fun too. For the first year of his life he spoke with a southern accent. ("Ah don' wanna gaow!") He got over stuttering and speaking about himself in the third person. Mostly. He went through a phase where everything was growled, rather than spoken. I can tell you, you haven't lived until you've heard "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam" growled by a cherubic toddler. Growling is so fun, that he still does it at times. You try saying "Wook into my eyes!" in a growly voice and see if you don't grin. The voice seems perfectly appropriate for a boy who calls himself Batman. You see? Everything is Batman.

There are so many more stories, and so little time. And he keeps on growing, and talking and making me laugh. He has sweetened my difficult moments with his gorgeous smile and sincere love. His little chubby arms give the best hugs. His bedtime stories are amazing and sweet. ("Once upon a time, there was a baby giraffe, and he did nuffing. And he gave his mommy a wuv.")

I hate to think that someday, I'll have to let him go.  I don't want him to change and be anything else but my little boy. I hope I get to keep him forever. For now, I'll keep him close by.