A Bitty Battle of the Bulge

Plain as day, there it was. A little pooch on my daughter's belly. From before she was born, I've tried all I knew to keep her from having the weight problem I've had since I was a few years older than she is now. I had been noticing that she was "filling out," but I wasn't prepared for the stomach that poked out as she tried on a new clingy-style dress. I'm trying hard not to overreact. But I often wonder what life would have been like if I hadn't been a "fat kid." My husband is tall and lean and has been most of his life. I had been drawing comfort on the fact that Faith was likely built like him and would be tall and thin, like a super model. Our mission now is to make sure she gets more exercise. We'll also reel in some of those bad habits, such as devouring a half-dozen Oreo's at a friend's house. And while we're at it, I need to teach her not to wipe her gritty Oreo hands all over her dress. This weight challenge is one of those parenting tightropes. Too much control and it could backfire, not enough and she could become a "fat kid." One decision I've already made is to go easy on the Easter candy. I've been picking up little toys and soaps and such for her basket instead of the aisle full of treats that awaits at any drugstore or supermarket. Pool season is almost here. We'll just have to lap up all the fun we can.
- Liz