Why I cried happy tears when someone called my daughter "fat".

We try to teach our house not to use the 'F' word.

Not unless we are talking about avocados or cashews, but never ever when referring a person in any way.

And ya'll know I am all about instilling positive self-image in my kids, celebrating differences and all of that. It killed me when someone made fun of our daughter's "big" hair, and when one was made fun of for being too thin, or our son came home crying because someone made fun of his scar. Just like it kills me when the words come from their mouths too because they do sometimes. They're kids. We're trying.

The truth is, this move has provided a healthy dose of perspective for all of us. People who sleep outside and kids who only have one pair of worn out, ill-fitting shoes or didn't have dinner last night... they aren't just tall tales to our children anymore, they are friends they sit next to in class. As brief as my stint was back in the classroom, it kicked me in the pants again too.  I say "again" because I have been kicked in the Perspective Pants so many times before and I still need to be over and over again. I think I'm usually pretty aware, but it is so easy to get sucked into the privilege we live in. I mean, I KNOW, I just forget every now and then before I realize I'm in that hole.

WHO CARES if Cale wears the same (clean, appropriately sized) UT sweatshirt every day? WHO CARES if they eat frozen pizza sometimes (until they are stuffed)? WHO CARES if somebody pees in their (warm, safe) bed?


This wasn't really a total stranger, I guess. We see her semi-regularly. This was maybe the third time our paths had crossed?

"Are these all your children?" she said.
Yes ma'am.
"Beautiful family... You sure are a pretty little girl (to AG)."
Hi! Thank you! So cute! AG replied, and then reached in for her signature squeeze. She gently hugged her back, and then the not-a-total-stranger started crying.

She had on a several layers. Everything she had, I expect.
She wears a hat because the nights are still chilly here. She didn't need the gloves today.
Not sure where she got the shoes, but they clearly aren't her size. She has to shuffle a little to keep them on. I don't know where she usually sleeps.  I don't know where her last meal came from.  I don't know her story.

But I know when the tears flowed and "She's a fat baby." was her next sentence, it wasn't to be unkind to my soft, sweet little girl with precious cheeks. It was a compliment. An acknowledgement.  She meant: this baby is well-fed and taken care of. This baby has clean clothes and a bed to sleep in. This baby is loved.

"She's a fat baby." With a smile through the tears.

Yes, ma'am. She is.