As Little Miss Chatterbox, my fondest elementary school memory was in grade 6, when I represented the NDP party in our school elections. I was the only girl (Little Miss Ballsy) running against 2 boys. We campaigned, said a speech, and made headlines in the Montreal Gazette and Pulse News. My gift-of-gab proved to work for me, rather than against me....which was rare!
As the youngest of two daughters, my sister set the barre pretty high. She was Little Miss Brainy and I secretly hated her for that. In my parents eyes, she was the academic achiever, whereas I was the busybody chatterbox, successful at distracting others. For most parents, education holds such high value, that academic results define their children. My sister was the smart one and I was the creative one, but since report cards were like diplomas, my future wasn't looking so stellar. Naturally, I never quite felt good enough since my report card figures didn't hover in the nineties. Come September, I'd hope for 2 things - that I'd be in the same class as my best friends and that I wouldn't have any of my sister's teachers. Well, unfortunately that didn't always happen, so my chatterbox title reined.
There's something bitter sweet about being a kid. You're carefree, yet you're put into a box. If it's not your sibling you're compared to, it's your peers. I understand that comparison is a natural human act. In parenthood, we get caught up in our babies' motor skill development, that we get stressed when our child misses a milestone. But while we're so in tune to meeting these intellectual objectives, what are we doing about the emotional ones? I mean, kudos to me for talking before the age of one, but I don't remember that. What I do remember, is trying to keep up with my sister's accomplishments, and the disappointment that followed when I missed the mark. I had my own rockstar moments that my parents celebrated, but for the most part, I felt underestimated. How our parents dealt with our triumphs and tribulations speaks volumes about who we believe we are today. Did your parents show empathy when you felt like a failure? Were they your biggest fans or your worst critics?
Every one of us has an inner child. Most of us still have a wounded child alive within us. The emotional garbage we carry today, dates back to childhood. Here's the good news: It's never too late to heal old wounds. You just have to reset the date, go back in time, and get on the rollercoaster. You'll relive the highs and lows that have manifested into the person you are today. You'll understand how you became the person you are.
Overall, my childhood was fantastic! My parents believed family time was sacred, so they were very present. But like every child, I suffered. I looked up to my older sister, road her coattail, even lived in her shadow for a while. As much as it pained me to be labelled and compared, I see how I'm capable of transmitting those wounds to my own kids. I'm learning to untie those emotional knots by accepting my children for who they are, not what they are.
The "Mr. Men and Little Miss" series has some pretty interesting characters. I'd like to believe that each one of us is made up of multiple personalities. Heck we have good and bad days, so we never know what character mash up we're gonna be. Being Little Miss Clumsy today, doesn't mean I can't be Little Miss Careful tomorrow. One thing I know for sure is that I'll never be Little Miss Know-It-All! Embracing who you are, on any given day, is the best way to live through your inner child. Life is too short to be serious and heavy, so try to make it playful and light! Don't get infected by your old wounds. Instead, focus on living like a combo of: Little Miss Seeker, Little Miss Healer, Little Miss Kindness.
