I'm watching "Toddlers and Tiaras" right now. Anyone else? Rex tells me I shouldn't watch it, but I can't seem to look away. For anyone who hasn't seen it, this is a documentary-type show that follows little girls as they prepare for beauty pageants and as they compete. And let me just say, some of the pageant moms are c.r.a.z.y.

It bothers me a bit, because these little girls are the same age as my girls, and they are learning valuable truths from their mothers, like "You can't win without a spray tan and fake teeth," or "Beauty hurts, now come and get your extensions on." My personal favorite would have to be "Don't forget to shake your booty!". Man, what kind of mother am I? We just wear jeans around here, and booty shaking is optional.

Some of the mothers divulge information about how much the preparation for the pageants cost, and one mother tallied up a bill of over $1200 for a pageant that had a grand prize of $600. Another mother explained how these pageants were an investment, since her daughter could win scholarships. Yeah, well, I can see how that would make it worth it, then.

Not all pageant moms are bad. Some are there because their girls like to dance around on stage, and they are able to let them have fun. But there are a lot who demand perfection from their daughters, and that's where it gets bothersome.

Even more bothersome is, tonight I was relating to these crazy women. It actually happened on the show before this one, a show about a guy who coaches the older teenagers for the Teen Miss USA pageant.
There was one girl on the show who was "too heavy". She had to lose about 7 pounds in two weeks before the pageant, and man, her mom was just on her about everything. Her mom kept telling everyone who would listen that her husband was going to cut off their funding for pageants if his daughter didn't get serious and lose some weight and start winning. (Thus, the reason they were now at this pageant coach who probably charges about 10 squillion dollars an hour.)
Anyway, she lost some weight, and they got to the pageant, and it was time for the swimsuit portion. This girl got on the stage, and you could tell that all she was thinking was, "I'm the fattest girl here." You could see it on her face. She wasn't in her element, and she knew it. I mean, a 17-year-old girl's self-esteem is fragile enough without parading around on stage in a swimsuit, right?
Well, her mother was furious, because she hadn't even tried to suck it in. "It's like she's just marching around saying, 'Look, I'm a fat girl and I don't care!'" Classy, eh? Anyway, this girl didn't make the top ten, so her father stormed out of the auditorium, swearing and ranting about how he didn't know why he was wasting his money, then he hopped into his brand new Corvette and sped away.
Meanwhile, the mom went to her daughter's dressing room to talk to her. Her daughter was upset, but she was trying to be a good sport. Instead of being encouraging, her mom started right into every single thing she had done wrong, and how she blew it with the swimsuit portion. Then, the mom stormed out. The pageant coach found the teenager out on the stairwell, sobbing, and when he asked her what was upsetting her, she said, "She told me I'm too fat and that I can't do anything right." Later, the mom came back to talk to her, and she said, "Oh, she knows I love her more than anything. We'll do better next time."

That's when it hit me, boom. I'm more like that lady then I first thought. I want what's best for my kids. I love them more than anything. And, sometimes I don't encourage enough. Even worse, sometimes I don't shut up enough. Sometimes it's good to discuss mistakes with our kids. They need direction, and we need to direct them. But sometimes, I think they know when they've done something wrong, and they know what they need to do next time, and all they want from us is a hug. No words. No "I-love-you-more-than-anything-but-next-time-you-need-to-do-this-and-this-and-this." No one likes a lecture, after all.

So I'm going to try to do less lecturing and more shutting of the face. I don't want my kids to hear "you can't do anything right" from me.