When Baby Girl Grows Up by Guest Priscilla A. Kissinger

We welcome Priscilla A Kissinger to the blog today!

As your children age, your role as a parent changes. The parenting tools you once skillfully used grow dull and you quickly try to master new ones.

The easily answered questions they once asked—“Mommy, why do I have to go to school?”—grow tougher—“Which college should I choose?”

The child who once crawled onto your lap to snuggle or cuddle, now gives you a quick wave on her way out the door to meet up with friends.

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The babies who depended on you to keep the household running smoothly, pack their bags and take the first step to independence and living on their own.

All three of my girls headed off to colleges that were multiple states and at least a two-day drive away from home. As children in a former military family Baby Girl 1 & 2 were used to moving; and while we stayed in one place for most of Baby Girl 3’s formative years we travel quite a bit, so she’s used to seeing new places.

When Baby Girl 1 headed off, it took me over two weeks to have the courage to walk into her room. And when I did, I laid down on her bed, imagined her there with me, and, teary-eyed, prayed that she was okay.

Baby Girl 2 headed off to the same school as 1, so I wasn’t as nervous about her being all alone so far from home. Yet, I caught myself poking my head into her room and reminiscing. Pretending she was merely out with friends and would be home soon.

Flash forward to Baby Girl 3’s departure. A single parent now, even though I was accustomed to this important rite of passage, all summer I found myself not thinking about that moment when I would drive away, leaving my baby behind. Rather, I talked about how exciting this opportunity would be for her. Frankly, I knew that focusing on what this rite of passage meant for her was probably the only way I’d get through it.

Parenting is tough. We want the best for our children. We want to protect them. Keep them safe. Ensure they’re happy and healthy.

Yet, our kids age and the time comes for us to trust that we’ve prepared them well to go out into this big, scary, and exciting world ready to make their positive mark on it.

The conversation changes from:

“Mommy, I have a boo-boo.”

“Come here, sweetie, and I’ll kiss it all better.”

to:

“Mom, I have a problem.”
“Okay then, sweetie, have you tried problem-solving for a positive solution?”

Then child who couldn’t wait to get out of Dodge and be on her own, calls you up teary and homesick. Stressed about class schedules, commitments, responsibilities, laundry issues, and life choices. While there’s that a part of you that wants to “make it all better”, you know that’s not what your baby needs.

She needs reassurance that she can handle this. A pep talk reminding her of what she’s accomplished and what she is capable of doing. Sometimes she needs a little tough love—“Adult life is hard, but you suck it up and stop whining.” And sometimes, you just get on a plane and fly half way across the country to give your Baby Girl a hug.

Because you’ll always be mommy. No matter what age they are. And couldn’t we all use a hug from a loved one more often than not?

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 Priscilla A Kissinger is a three-time Golden Heart finalist who writes contemporary romance with a Latino flavor. A single mom with three daughters, Priscilla recently earned an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. During the day she works as an administrator at a major university, and she spends her free time writing, reading, playing tennis, training for half marathons, watching sports and singing karaoke with her family.  You can find out more about her at www.prisakiss.com.

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I Shall Not Live in Vain

Today’s my last post on Peanut Butter on the Keyboard as a regular contributor, and I’m feeling bittersweet.

Have you ever had a tangle of necklaces on your counter that you’re trying to sort out? Attempting to figure out why I’m leaving this place of grace  is something like that. Eventually, those chains–each representing a passion, duty, or unmet goal–separate unto themselves and you see clearly again.if-i-can-stop-one-heart-from-breaking-i-shall-not-live-in-vain4

Ultimately, all my reasons for leaving come down to this: I sense a need for a change in direction. Hanging out here is such a pleasure. But as I age, as my children grow up, I want to continue to grow, too. I want to keep moving. Looking ahead. Evolving.

Yet it’s hard–because the years I’ve spent as a mother with children in the house have been the best years of my life. I’m scared of what comes next. I still have a couple years to go before the nest is empty, but I’m ready to start contemplating that change. It will require feeling out, slowing down. Expressing gratitude along the way.

I think the first blog post I ever did here–or darned near the first–was about poetry. Emily Dickinson never had children, but she understood what it means to be a mother. I love how her poem, “If I Can Stop,” [see below] celebrates the concept of nurturing, of mothering the world. You can be a guy and show maternal grace. You can be childless. Blast it all, you can be a soldier or nurse or admin person and mother your troops, your patients, or your boss and your clients!

Emily says in a simple, beautiful way everything I long to say about being a mother. By golly, I know I haven’t lived in vain.

At the soul level, we all long to feel we’ve made a difference, right? Our children are gifts to the world. Let’s celebrate that fact! And let’s remember that every day brings new opportunities to lift a baby bird into its nest again–or dare I say, push it out when it needs to go (smile).

To Emily, Shana, Jennifer, Robyn, and Maisey, thank you so much for including me in this wonderful undertaking to create a space where moms can come to find understanding and support. I’ll be following along and chiming in occasionally. Big hugs to you and to all our readers. You’ve enriched my life beyond measure.

Kieran XOXO

If I can stop

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
–Emily Dickinson


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

What We Pass Down to Our Children

I put this story on Facebook the other day, but I think it’s relevant to our discussions here at PBOK:

Should I file this incident under *Outrageous Rudeness* or *Wow–So THAT’S Why*? On Monday night, I attended an academic awards ceremony at my son’s school. The auditorium was packed. Many people had to stand at the back, including my husband and me. This meant a small, seated group behind us would have to look between us to see the stage, which was really far away.

No one liked having to do that–we were all apologizing like crazy to each other–except for this one woman. She kept yelling, “Get out of the way!” So everyone did their best to squeeze together so she could see.

Anyway…another woman came in with an elderly lady pushing a walker. Literally, the only place left to go was in front of the shouting woman. So the shouting woman did her thing. She yelled, “Get out of the way!” And the escort to the elderly lady said, “She’s 97-years-old. There’s no place left to stand.” And the shouting lady said–I kid you not–“I don’t care if she’s 200 years old! MOVE!”

My husband was pinned behind a bunch of people. I was able to maneuver around a bit, and I felt compelled to speak to the shouting lady. I went over to her, lowered my glasses, which I wear to see long distances, and said, “Ma’am. We’re all doing the best that we can.” And she did her thing, yelling and being rude. No surprise.

But what *was* a surprise was the fact that I noticed, for the first time, that the poor person who’d come in with her was one of my former students. This student was the meanest, rudest, most upsetting student I have ever had. But she was also smart. Smart must run in their family because obviously they were at the academic awards ceremony, cheering someone on.

I smiled at my student. But inside my heart was breaking for her. Because I had just found out why she was such an unhappy girl when I knew her. And it bothered me all night thinking about how adults definitely communicate their philosophy of life to their children…and if that adult is a mean-spirited person, then the child might very well turn out that way, too.

I hope my student, now that’s she grown up and likely in college, can see now how the world reacts to ugly behavior of the type her mother/grandmother/relative displayed. I hope she’s able to break the cycle.

Note: The old woman was just fine–people offered her their chairs. But she couldn’t get to them. We were too tightly packed in, like sardines. 

How much were you influenced as a child by the atmosphere in your home? Do you remember any specific instances where you acted a certain way because you saw an adult at home act that way? And do you see you children doing the same, imitating you?


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

Screen Time and Kids

If you’re confused about screen time for your kids, watch this short video outlining the pros and cons of screen use for children and at what age it’s appropriate. And then make your own decisions for your family.

How much screen time does your child get? 


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

September 11th and Children

First of all, RIP to all the Americans we lost on 9-11. And to all the children born on September 11, I hope your parents have been able to filter out all the noise and keep the sense of personal celebration that you deserve to have on your birthday. I wish that for the grownups born on this day, too.

A lot of you reading this might not have had kids on September 11, 2001. You might even have been a young teen yourself. But for those of us who were parents, it was really tough, as you might expect. How do you explain such a disaster to children without destroying their sense of security?

photo-13 I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here to say that September 11 changed everything for the kids who lived through it. My son says his generation is dogged by the events of that day. We tend to forget about it on a daily basis, but it’s there, stamped into our collective unconscious. My sister, who teaches college, says that her current students–who ranged in age from 6 to 10 at the time of the attack–have so much more anxiety than their pre-September 11th counterparts. According to her, the anxiety levels have been getting progressively worse since September 11th happened.

No one was left unscarred.  I know personally of two friends who lost loved ones. One of them was a flight attendant on the plane that crashed into a field. The other was a stockbroker in one of the towers–he left behind a wife and two toddlers. And then in my own family, my brother-in-law was inside the Pentagon when the plane hit. And my brother was in the air on a flight out of Boston, heading to D.C. We had NO idea of either of their statuses for a while. Could my brother be in the plane that crashed in the field? Or was he possibly in the plane that crashed into the Pentagon? Was my brother-in-law hurt inside the Pentagon? It was terrible not knowing.

If it was such a trauma for the adults, imagine what it was like for the kids. I do know that where I lived, in Hickory, NC, the elementary schools turned on the TV’s in the classrooms. I can’t remember if they dismissed them early, and that’s because I was homeschooling at the time.

My two older kids were 8 1/2 and a brand-new 10.  We saw the towers fall. I remember falling to my knees, literally. I cried and prayed and said things like, “God help them!” as we witnessed, surely, thousands of deaths at almost the same time. I wonder if not only the world trauma of that day but the household trauma branded itself deeply onto my two older kids’ psyches. What happened to them when they saw Mommy so afraid? All I know is that in general, they have suffered more anxiety growing up than our third child, who was in diapers at the time and had no idea what was happening.

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Of course, we talked about it. We talked about it a lot. The drawings and narration you see here were done by my then 8-year-old daughter the next day. She made a book entitled, SAD, SAD DAY.  I have to marvel at the resilience of children, how they are filled with optimism no matter what. Look at the cute winking heart on that top drawing! And in the bottom narration, my daughter leans heavily on her faith in God to make it all better.

Other generations of children have been scarred by war. I guess at this point all I can do is pray for the children who went through September 11th and hope that the day will always remind them that we can never take our lives for granted or the lives of the people we love. Maybe our children who witnessed that day’s events will also live less on the surface and more in the realm of the substantial. They “get” loss and death. May they use the knowledge and experience thrust upon them on September 11 to make the world a better place.

I’m curious: If your kids are too young to remember September 11th, how do you handle the day? Let me know in the comments! And of course, please share anything you’d like about your own experience. 


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

Write Your Crazy Wish List! ***

What crazy wishes do you have? I think that’s a little different from a bucket list. On a bucket list, you actually think that you might be able to do everything on it, right? You just need to get up the nerve, find the money, the time, etc.  But on a crazy wish list, there might be things you know you can’t do. Or will never do, for one reason or another.

So what’s the point of a crazy wish list?6a00e55246b63f8834017617873753970c-800wi

Well, it’s to remind yourself that you have a vivid imagination that you’re ignoring 99% of the time. Yes, even we writers do that. We might imagine stories for our characters, but we stop imagining things for ourselves.

Now you’re probably asking: why should we bother remembering we have imaginations? We have bills to pay, for gosh sakes! And kids with issues, and job challenges and a host of other substantive realities with which we must deal. Sheesh!

We need to remember that we have imaginations because they buffer us against the slings and arrows, and they bring us joy–two very important functions. Plus, there’s another big thing our imaginations do for us, and you’ll find out at the end of the article what I’m talking about. This exercise leads up to it. So let’s get started!

I recommend you update your crazy wish list all the time! As in, get a white board, put it in the kitchen, and let it be a family crazy wish list! Read each other’s! Draw weird pictures around them. Laugh about them. And then, maybe…go after one of those crazy wishes! Or you can hide your own personal crazy wish list in a box and bury it in the garden and dig it up every once in a while to update it. Add a candy bar so that every time you open the box, you get a special surprise! Anything goes when it comes to your crazy wish list! You can even make a crazy wish list about how to do your crazy wish list!

If for some reason, you won’t do this, please at least encourage the kids in your life to try it. They won’t stop writing, I promise you. They can have as many crazy wishes as they want!

Here’s my crazy wish list for today. Don’t hold me to them–they might change tomorrow:

1) I want to be Captain Kirk’s woman in a Star Trek episode. They’d put that soft lens on me when the camera focuses on my face, and my hair would be woven in a beehive basket design, just like Nurse Chapel’s.

2) I wish Billy Joel were one of my best friends and he’d come over tonight for a big jam session. My sisters and I would sing harmony over his shoulder while he’s playing “Until the Night,” a very sexy song of his that hardly anyone knows!

3) I’d love to win a Rita! Or at least be nominated for one again!  Or is it the book that wins? And is nominated? I get confused about that, but either way, I’d be psyched!

4) I’d love for one of my books to hit the New York Times list. I mean literally. I’d like to throw it and watch it bounce off the newspaper. NOT.  (I’m the worst joke teller!). No, it would be really awesome to be on that list. But until I make it, I’m going to keep throwing my current books at it every Sunday.

5) I want one of my books made into a movie, and I’d be on set with all the stars, and we’d be best friends and go karaoking every night. Hopefully, George Clooney would be there, and I’d prank him really badly. He’s a master at pranking people, and I would catch him by surprise. He’d respect me so much, he’d ask me to marry him, and I’d have to tell him, “Sorry. I love my husband.” And then he’d give me his house on Lake Como in Italy just because he’s pining away for me so badly.

George's House on Lake Como--I'm in the window, waving!

George’s House on Lake Como–I’m in the window, waving!

6) I wish all the homeless dogs and cats of the world would have people who loved them and took care of them.

7) I dearly wish every child would be cherished and well fed, and that when they shut their eyes at night, they felt safe and happy.

8) I wish cancer were cured.

9) I wish I could fly.

10) I wish I lived in a castle in Cornwall with my same family and pets and that I were a duchess who drove an emerald green Jaguar convertible and ate scones with clotted cream and gooseberry jam every day. What is a gooseberry? I have no idea. But it’s on my crazy wish list because it sounds so delightful and cozy, like something out of The Secret Garden. I can just hear Glinda the Good Witch saying this wish out loud in her tinkly-bell voice….

My castle in Cornwall--it's vacant right now as I'm chilling on Lake Como.

My castle in Cornwall–it’s vacant right now as I’m chillin’ on Lake Como.

billie-burke-as-glinda So do you have the idea? Just writing down my crazy wishes has made me feel happier somehow. It buffers me against the hard times. It gives me a spark of joy. A lot of that joy comes from admitting what I want to do. When we were little, we weren’t afraid to tell the whole world what we wanted to do, were we? We could dream!

And now for that bonus thing our imagination does for us. It seems almost like a selfish, ridiculous thing for a responsible, hard-working adult to make a crazy wish list, but ironically, our imaginations, given free rein, always brings us back to community. We can’t help ourselves. We think about other people even when we’ve been given “permission” to indulge ourselves. That’s the magic of the crazy wish list. It reminds us that there are things that we need to work on–really big things that need solving on a global scale or smaller, more personal things in our own lives, our own circles. And if we get too caught up in our little routines, we can forget those things. I know I can’t cure cancer, but I can do my best to avoid the triggers. And I can pray for people I know who have it. I can maybe even go to the hospital and visit strangers who are sick with cancer. The crazy wish list reminds me that I’m alive, part of a big, wonderful world. It infuses me with the power that comes with recognizing this miraculous connection. I’m way bigger than any boring old to-do list!!! There is potential in me that I have yet to tap. There is good I have yet to do. 

Wonder Woman, watch out!

Thanks for reading my crazy wish list, and if anyone wants to share, I’d love to read yours!

*** Feel free to call it your “CWL,” as in, “Hey! have you written your CWL yet?” That’s what the really self-important among us call it to make ourselves look smart and special. It’s like the TPS report of OFFICE SPACE fame.


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

The Poop Song–Yes, I Really Said That!

My 15-year-old saw this the other day and thought it was hilarious. I laughed, too–especially at the sublime tone of the announcer at the beginning–and then I said, “Wait! This will work at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard!” So here it is. I think it’s really cute and perfect for little people to watch if they feel nervous about potty training. Enjoy!

If you have any other links to great potty training videos or articles, please feel free to leave them in a comment. Or if you have a helpful tip to offer yourself, we’re all ears!

Hugs, Kieran 🙂


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

Total Mom Freak Out: Psychological Stress & Mothering

Do you ever have them? Total mom freak outs? Sometimes the stress of worrying about my kids’ health, happiness, and security gets me to the point that I lose it. For me, losing it means I get illogical fears. I feel sort of trembly inside. I think, “I’ll never be able to protect them,” and suddenly, everything feels overwhelming.

When this sort of cloud passes over me–through me–sometimes I think I should drink wine to deal with it. But I’m not a big drinker. I decided long ago that I don’t handle alcohol well. I become the woman you wish hadn’t come to your party because I’m dancing on your antique dining room table in my heels. It’s too bad–so many people have said to me, “Have a glass of wine!” But no. That fix doesn’t do it for me.

Other times, I think, “Get your butt outside and walk.” That does help.

And on the rare occasion, I’ll think about going on an anti-anxiety drug. It’s mainly when I’m at my doctor’s for a regular check-up and he comes in, white coat tails flapping, and says, “How are you? I mean really?” And he’ll sit in front of me, hold my hand, and look deep into my eyes with such compassion, I start to cry. I know sooooo many moms on anti-anxiety drugs! Or anti-depressants. I did try Prozac once. I lasted about a month and had to quit. I just never got out of sleepy mode, even though I was on a baby dose because the doctor knew I was scared to take it. I have a really sensitive nervous system and do terribly with most drugs. So anyway, I quit Prozac the day the pre-K teacher pounded on my car window–I had fallen asleep in the car rider line, and she thought I’d fainted.

Over the years, I’ve grown to recognize when I’m in a weak psychological state. When the kids were little and we were first discovering that Nighthawk, our child with Asperger’s syndrome, had “issues,” I had panic attacks for a whole year. I tried the Prozac–you know what happened there. So instead of using meds, I wound up keeping a journal and telling myself to laugh every day, walk every day, meditate and pray every day, and keep writing about my feelings in that journal. I also decided to eliminate caffeine. The panic attacks did go away, and I went over ten years without another one.

My last one was two years ago when I went to Dunkin’ Donuts car line when I was stressed with more than kid worries. The concerns about my brood were still there–I could always list two or three child-related issues that hovered in my conscious brain–but I also had a short deadline. Money was tight. My parents were getting older and I was worried about my mom’s atrial fibrillations. I ordered decaffeinated coffee and two donuts, then an hour later, had a panic attack. The coffee, handed to me by an overworked or perhaps indifferent window attendant, was likely not decaf. That, combined with the ridiculous sugar rush (eating two donuts was an unusual event for me), destabilized me physically. Then I got a phone call from a really scary person who’s known for bullying people. Combine all that with my initial stress about the kids and my deadline, and suddenly, on the phone with this difficult person, I was lightheaded, my heart sped up, and I felt weak. Hell, I couldn’t even breathe….

So that was a wake-up call for me. I realized that I needed to be more diligent about taking care of myself. I let go of guilt (yes, it was that easy. I  just stopped kicking myself all the time!). I walked a lot more. I went to a counselor to get help with dealing with difficult people–those couple of sessions included learning how to let go of bad reviews online from people I don’t even know. The best part about the counseling was that she helped me remember I had the solution to my worries in me all along. I just had to think back to that year of journaling, walking, meditating/praying, and laughing.

When I stay aware of what’s happening in my life–not hiding my head in the sand about anything, including child, marital, physical, emotional, and work issues–I stay healthy. It takes courage to live in the now. But staying right here with the truth of my life is what keeps me strong and happy. So moms, if you find yourself getting emotionally frail–if your panic about your kids or anything else you’re worried about starts to affect you to the point that you aren’t living the way you want to live–consider paying attention to what your body and mind are telling you. Do this on your own or with your family doctor or a counselor. And remember, you’re not alone! So many of us moms deal with anxiety, depression, and stress. You deserve to feel better. So take action, or tell someone you trust so they can help you move toward where you want to be. We’re rooting for you here at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard! Hugs, Kieran 🙂


Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

The Modesty Fashion Trend: What Do YOU Think of It?

Is modesty about being ashamed of your body? Does modesty mean hiding yourself away and looking like a grandma at age 16 or 25? Or is modesty about revealing your dignity? Letting your true feminine beauty shine?

Those are the questions posed by this articulate young woman in the video below. She used her MBA to create a bathing suit line with Audrey Hepburn as her inspiration.

I think moms everywhere eventually grapple with this issue when it comes to clothing their daughters. How much is too much when it comes to sexy outfits? Should Little Suzy wear that leopard-spotted underwear set when she’s five or six? I remember how hard it was to find my daughter dresses with hemlines below her thighs when she was 13 and I just wanted to get her something I thought would be appropriate for church or a wedding.

All over the internet modesty fashion sites are popping up not just for kids but for adult women, too. Some reference the Bible as their inspiration, but not everyone is into modesty based on religious principle. Some people are simply shy. Or not interested in sexualizing themselves for public consumption.

I myself have the goal of getting back into a bikini. Why? It will be my reward for exercising and eating right. And I like feeling free to bask in the sun–as much of me as possible–when on the beach. If and when I wear that bikini again, it will be for me. I can’t imagine that I’ll be torturing any man, LOL!

But hey, getting serious again: Are we women to be responsible for men’s reactions to us in bikinis or any other skimpy outfits? Or should men work on that themselves? Can they? 

I offer this video, “The Evolution of the Bikini,” as a springboard for discussion. Go to it, ladies!