On the subject of mom wars

One thing that has been quite enjoyable about keeping a blog is the off the cuff ranting that I indulge in. Always fun at the time... although when I read back on my last post, I realize I fell prey to  reactionary opinions regarding methods of parenting and missed the fact that these "Mom wars" are a really good foil to keep women from banding together against shockingly anti-women rhetoric that has been flouted about these days. Pitting mother against mother is remarkably easy (we do it all by ourselves!) and a very useful way of keeping people scrabbling around superficial issues. I mean really, who cares if you breast feed until your child is 5 or if you choose disposables. And for what it is worth, the environmental impact of having kids already eclipses any "green" thing you think you are doing to fight global warming. (Freakonomics) So go figure that.  The whole concept of a child rearing "system" seems increasingly ridiculous to me. Kids are not a "procedure" that need a "method". At our place, we have two very bright, curious, capable, mischievous kids and our strategy in the end boils down to: Keep one step ahead of their shenanigans, show that actions have consequences, train them to bring us beer on command. Just kidding about the keeping one step ahead of  the shenanigans part.
I don't want to fight with my neighbor about how close I hover at the park or how many cute crafts we can do and post on facebook in one day. There are serious things going on and women are all going to be affected. If we let ourselves be divided over lifestyle, we are all going to suffer.
  It's the same methods the British Empire used: Get the tribes fighting each other, then they will be too preoccupied to notice the real business going on.


We have Bill O'Reilly calling a law student a slut and a prostitute for wanting access to contraception.

"What does it say about the college co-ed Sandra Fluke, who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex, what does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute. She wants to be paid to have sex. She’s having so much sex she can’t afford the contraception. She wants you and me and the taxpayers to pay her to have sex. What does that make us? We’re the pimps."

Nice one, Bill. Oh, Was that you in the prostitute scandal over at Fox news? And you who thinks Viagra should be covered by health care? And you who is a consistent misogynist?  Just checking.


Terry England (R-Georgia) Comparing women to cattle, saying they should be able to carry to term a still born baby the same way a cow on a farm would:

“Life gives us many experiences…I’ve had the experience of delivering calves, dead and alive. Delivering pigs, dead or alive. It breaks our hearts to see those animals not make it.”

Buuut, let's have women do this, because it is such a sound medical and moral idea.

Read more: http://www.care2.com/causes/georgia-lawmaker-pregnant-women-just-like-pigs-cows.html#ixzz1vnB3l0vs

Oh, yes, we have the senate debate on contraceptive access:

Isn't it nice that we have these gentlemen debating the validity of religious organizations providing birth control for women. I have always wanted this necessity to be in the hands of a Priest, a Rabbi, a Reverend and a Bishop. Because it's a joke, right?


Ok, next...  “If the Democrats said we had a war on caterpillars and every mainstream media outlet talked about the fact that Republicans have a war on caterpillars, then we’d have problems with caterpillars. It’s a fiction.”
So that comes from Reince Preibus, the RNC chair, who decided to use  insects as a comparison tool to respond to the allegations that has been leveled at Republicans as to whether or not there is a "War on Women".  I don't agree with the "War on..." title. It is tacky and inflammatory, which I guess is the point, but it is so extreme that there is no where to go from there. In any case, Comparing women to insects is a backwards way of saying you support women, n'est-pas?

We have multiple attempts at eliminating Planned Parenthood, which many, many people use as a general health facility.
Planned Parenthood health clinics provide 750,000 breast exams, 770,000 pap tests and nearly 4 million tests and treatments for sexually transmitted diseases. Twenty percent of all women in the U.S. have visited a Planned Parenthood health center.(abc News. ) I sure did.
Susan G. Komen for the Cure abruptly severed its alliance with Planned Parenthood  when Komen officials said would halt a grant program used to pay for breast cancer screenings and educational programs.
Komen funding for Planned Parenthood has provided nearly 170,000 clinical breast exams and resulted in 6,400 referrals for mammograms. In 2011 alone, grants from Komen provided Planned Parenthood with roughly $650,000 in funding for breast cancer prevention, screening, and education. According to a recent statement by Komen, “In some areas of the U.S., our affiliates have determined a Planned Parenthood clinic to be the best or only local place where women can receive breast health care.”

Sounds like a pretty important service for women. Let's get rid of it.

Congress did pass a bill to continue financing for Planned parenthood, but 283 representatives voted against it. I am sad to say that Frank Guinta of new Hampshire was among those. Mr. Guinta, if you had the best intentions in mind for your electorate, why did you do this?
If you want to see if your representative voted against the funding of Planned Parenthood, the link is below. Also there is a letter page you can use to reach out to those who voted against Planned Parenthood.


Planned parenthood letter page
list of senators who voted to defund planned parenthood

And let us not forget the transvaginal ultrasound for those considering abortion. A procedure that has no necessity than to have a woman humiliated as she is trying to make a very serious decision. A decision in which the government has no business whatsoever.
Who is it that is crying out against "Big Government? Oh, yes. republican conservatives. Who is demanding the government intervene in the most private decisions of it's citizens? Oh, those same people? That makes perfect sense, because I live in the land of Oz.

So then we have the fact that maternity leave in the US is ranked WAY down on the list:
In at least 178 countries around the world, paid leave is guaranteed for working moms, while more than 50 countries provide wage benefits for fathers, according to the International Labor Organization. The United States, along with Papua New Guinea, Swaziland, Liberia and Lesotho are some of the only countries in the world that provide no type of financial support for mothers, according to a study done by McGill University’s Institute for Health and Social Policy. 
That is so nice to know. The United States, *Leader of the free world*  ;)   is ranked alongside these thriving, first world, industrialized nations when it comes to family support. I feel like a global leader.

Well anyway, that is the short list. I could go on and on but this is too depressing for a Friday morning.
So I will end my diatribe here and wish all of you, liberals, conservatives, independents and otherwise a  great day.

are you mom enough, my ass.

Time magazine confronted me with an aggressive cover picture of a tight, 26 year old model/mom with a three year old hanging off her boob. "Are you Mom Enough?" Jeered the headline. Both of them were staring at me from the page. This was no nurturing earth mother on display here. That woman was standing in a model pose with skinny jeans and a look on her face that smirked, "Nope."

Am I Mom enough?  In relation to what, exactly? Do you mean, did I wait until the "right" age? Did I complete my education and enjoy a lucrative career before meeting Mr. Perfect with his perfect job and "choosing" a pregnancy that included me eating all the "essential" things for baby's optimal growth and keeping the "right" amount of weight on, or off? Do you mean a drug-free, Midwifed, Birthing Center labor where I enjoyed an "Orgasm Birth" in a birthing tub with no poop?
Are these things "Mom enough"? But the Baby has just made an appearance, so to be 'Mom Enough" I guess I would need to apply the absolutely essential mothering requirements of never putting the baby down. Never letting the baby cry. Breast feeding until college,  Having my marriage take a back seat to my motherhood: Bye bye conjugal visits, hello co-sleeping for infinity.  Wiping every sniffle, thwarting every injury. Never using a stroller, or a crib.  We wouldn't want to have a jailbird complex, because babies know all about incarceration. No disposable diapers. Or  diapers at all, for that matter. Making all my own baby food. Being an organic, sustainable locavore.  All the while of course, maintaining a flexible, well moneyed job. Having a husband with a flexible, well moneyed job who can be at my beck and call. Looking MILFy, Being a great cook. Being an engaging conversationalist. Being craftier than you. Never raising my voice. Being a disciplinarian, but without the use of discipline. Growing a garden, managing a house, being a Tiger Mom, not being a Tiger Mom, or a helicopter parent, or a soccer mom.

Politicians believe that my health care and family planning choices should be regulated and discussed without my input or presence. They want to get in between myself, my family and my doctor.  To tell me what to do.
Catholics say I am incapable of being a priest. They also say I should not make my own reproductive decisions, and if I work for them, they will also deny me health care.
Entire nations practice hatred of women.

I look around at the women I know. Everyone is tired of this. Every one of them is tired of the "Mommy Wars".  We put ourselves under so much pressure to be the best possible parents. We get hit from all sides: You should be at home! You should be at work! You should be relaxed! You should be vigilant! I tell you what we should not be doing, and that is listening to all this bullshit. Our lives are complex. We don't fit neatly into side bars of magazines. We are not one way or the other.

So, suck it, perfection monger, whoever you are. I may or may not be mom enough, but I am human enough. And I welcome all other humans, who are willing to be human. And we will revel in our flawed humanity! Flawed humans of the world unite! Are you flawed enough?

An open letter to those parents.

To the parents of the boys who actually, really think they are animals and mark their territory the same way wolves do: I understand.

To those who have boys who have figured out how to climb up door jams, refrigerators, wall moulding, vehicles, the awnings on top of swingsets (yes, I mean those sunshade, not-to-be-climbed awnings.), because they are also Spiderman: I understand.

To those who have witnessed their boy scream and throw a bananna across the room because it broke when he was peeling it: Yup.

To those whose boys spent their potty training summer sneaking out to poop in the yard because it was so funny to watch the dog eat it: You bet.
When that boy proudly comes to you and says,"MOM! I got into you car, and I POOPED in it!!" : Also yup.

To the parents who had to hide the sugar because the boy kept sneaking off with the jar so he could gobble as much as he could behind the chesterfield before he got caught: "Sigh" umhmm.

To the parents who discovered their son had eaten ALL the candycanes on the christmas tree, then some jelly beans, then all the other candy out of everyone else's stocking and then threw up under the table, then upon showing it to you, discovered a whole jellybean in that mess and tried to eat it: Oh, you too?

To the parents whose boy is incredibly strong and willful, who have had their glasses knocked off their faces, been punched and kicked and screamed at whilst their boy is inside out with some kind of toddler fury, in a very public and usually quiet place so EVERYONE can witness: I feel your pain.

To the parents whom other parents have looked upon in horror over what their son has just done. I know, I know.

To the parents who have recieved calls from preschools telling them their son had been sent out of gym because he defies instructors and just clobbered someone: Yeah, that.

To the parents who were informed that the policy of childcare at the gym they go to is being changed because of their kids: Tell me about it.

To the parents of boys who insist on stuffing their hands in their pockets while they run up stone steps, resulting in a nasty faceplant, blood, swelling, tears and screams:  In a few days the swelling will go down.

To the parents of the boys who never walk but instead run, leap, blast off or spin, every movement accompanied by a sound effect: The sound effects are awesome, right?

To those who have boys who literally bounce off the walls and have to be run outside for a minimun of two hours a day every day, in all weather, or else: At least you get fresh air, right?

To the ones who have boys that at 3yrs have  photographic memory of their grandparents house who live across the continent and whose house has only been visited once before, and wonder why stuff had been moved around: I am also amazed.

To the parents who have witnessed their boy figure out child locks and adult locks,  who have seen the result of dumped out shampoo and dirt "experiments", who see their son turn anything in his hand into a sword,  figure out how a tractor works, wear a princess dress and tiara whilst wielding a sword, stick and snowboots hollering,"I am lightning of the WORLD!!!!" Those who have seen constant eating of boogers, protecting of boobies, asking of a story then telling you exactly what to say and expecting you to repeat it verbatum, 

To those parents: I know what you are living with.  I know the wonderful and the horrible things litte boys like this can do. We live for those calm moments when that little mass of energy barely contained in that tiny body is still and we get a super-cuddle and a soft, "Mama, I love you."

To those parents, I understand.

conversation snippets of the last few days

Waiting at the dentist office, there was a basket full of kids books and a coffee table with ladies magazines and celebrity rags. I tell the kids to pick out a book. Z immediately goes to the pile of mags and picks out "Trash Weekly"  with a big picture of Kim Kardashian in a bikini all over the cover and says, "Read me THIS!"
"Why?" I ask. His little eyes are all lit up. He loudly proclaims:
"Because Mum! She is so beautiful! She has her belly button sticking out and she has her boobies sticking out! I like her! I want to read about her!"
No words managed to come to me at that moment.

E looks over, unimpressed. "She is walking around in her underpants. I would not do that." Then a different Trash Weekly catches her eye.
"Oh! Look, Mum, she is hurt! What happened? Poor lady!" E was looking at a sloshed Christina Aguilara with lipstick smeared all over her face. "What happened to her, Mum! Oh what HAPPENED?"
'Looks like she fell over and face-planted or something kiddo..."I answer." Her shoes must have been too big. Lets read that Doctor Seuss book over there."

simultaneously: "NO!"

The receptionists are all snickering.
Thank you  American Culture trash for never leaving me alone.



The other night right in the middle of setting the table, E stops and turn to me and says,"Sometimes I wonder why I even exist."
then she adds, "It gives me creeps when I think about it."
I say, "I have thoughts like that too sometimes, we all do. You want to hear the name for those thoughts? They are called existential thoughts. Cool eh?"
She just looks at me.


We were looking at you tube videos and the side panel had this ad running where a fat lady turned skinny over and over. E turns to me and says, "Mum! Don't you think you want to do that?"
"But I'm not fat!" I reply.
"You're not skinny either." she says.

Another time on the Internet another running ad; this time with a side by side of a wrinkled face next to a wrinkle free version.
E: 'Oh! MUM! You should get this!"
Me: "But I'm not old!"
"No, Mum, you are."

I walked thought the house. My socks were sticking to the floor. I touched a wall, it was sticky. The  backs of the chairs were sticky, the remote was sticky. Door nobs: sticky. stairs: sticky. Toilet seat: sticky. everything; sticky. Turns out Z had tried to enhance his already considerable super powers with the secret ingredient of honey. He had pored it on his hands and off he went, bestowing all that he touched with glorious, sticky honey. 'It helps me climb walls." He claims.


E clasped her hands to her breast one day and widened her eyes at me:
"I... I just think, that something deep inside me is Frrrrrrench, Mama. RRrrrrrrthat is why RrrrrI
am SpRrrrrreaking FRRRrrrrrrrrrrench all the Trrrrrrrime. I shall harrrrrrrrve to tell Darrrrrrrrrrrddy when he grrrrrrrrrrets homerrrrrrrrr."

Z:  "If I poop really fast, I don't have to wipe my bum!!"
Me: "Get back in the bathroom."

We were talking at the dinner table about being kind and generous. E wanted to cite an example:
"So you see, Mum, I am so kind and generous that I am not telling you that I don't like this food. AT ALL! I really don't like it. But, I am so kind and generous that I am eating it anyway, even though I DON"T LIKE IT AT ALL. That is how kind and generous I am." Then she literally closes her eyes and clasps her hands, with a noble, yet long suffering smile and says to herself, "I am really so generous."

Gym rat post script

I have just a few more things to add about the gym:

-Doing mixed martial arts practice to Tool and Metallica and super fast gothcore is fun and makes a mamma feel like a total badass-That is until I look into the mirror and see myself.

-Every once in a while, the instructor will take a swipe at you, and if you don't lunge away fast enough, I really do believe you might get knocked down. This adds to the excitement, but whenever she comes near me I let loose an involuntary, shrill giggle and trying to control it makes me snort and in trying to control the snort, I choke myself.

-I have punched myself in the face. Not just once.

-I have leaped the wrong way before (In the dance class) and landed on TOP of  the person beside me. Very shortly after that I simply fell over for no reason whatsoever. I am better at lefts and rights now.

I have shiny lime green and purple gym sneakers and I think they give me special powers.

In conclusion, I highly recommend daily physical activity.

Gym Rat

I have been a member of one gym or another for as long as I have been able to hold my own membership to something. I have always "worked out".  This has taken on various forms over the years: Belly Dancing, Hot yoga, relugar temperature yoga,  judo,  weight lifting, water aerobics, step class, spinning class,  zumba, machine weights, and when I lived in places too remote, or when I was too broke, I would simply run. And that is not the final list. And it doesn't include biking and hiking, which are just life stuff.  I know I have left stuff out. I am a perpetual fitness class fanatic and I have never lost my ass. Not ever once. Not even for a little bit. But it's not about loosing my ass. What am I kidding? It is always about loosing my ass, but it also about that feeling of exhaustion that comes from working out really hard. It is an awesome feeling.(But only when it is over.)

I also have a need to prove to myself that I can physically support my body. That if need be, I can seriously kick some ass. Or at least haul myself out of the water if I ever fell off a boat, or climb a rope out of an erupting volcano, or wrestle a bear. I don't want to be soft and pathetic and weak. I want to be like Vladimir Putin.
 I have never been a sporto. I am not competitive with sports AT ALL. I hate that stuff. Mostly because I am slow and rather awkward and just not very athletic. (You should see my lay-up.) I have run some races, 5ks, 10k (Once and it was horrible). My sister is a super athlete and I have always been ragingly jealous of her prowes but I would never admit it. Oh whoops, I just did.

Anyway, so when my friend Katie kept telling me about this little gym she joined and how great it was, I didn't really buy it. I just thought she had probably been brain washed by a health club pyramid scheeme or was feeling the effects of too much progesterone or something. But after months, she still kept telling me how great it was. At the time, I was into this thing where I would put the kids in the bike trailer and haul all 90 lbs plus dog (20lbs) up and down big hills for an hour and a half a day, and they were starting to mutiny. "What, you don't want to have gravel spat in your face while I grunt up hills? You ungrateful little...(you get the point)!" So I went.

So now I do these classes called "Body Combat" and "Crunch" and "Body Pump" and "Sh'BAM".
and I punch and kick and lunge and do movements based on boxing and all sorts of martial arts, and also get to do a dance class where I can pretend I am a "Solid Gold" dancer.Anyone remember that show? Anyone? No? How about "Flashdance"? Are you with me now?

These in themselves are fun and different, but the real reason that I go back nearly every day is that the instructor is actually, possibly a bit crazy and kind of scary. And I realize that I need/love that particular mix of superjock/ crazy eyes / drill seargent to get the most out of me. (By the way, she instructs her classes usually in full glam makeup. She is amazing and scary.) She will call you out by your first and last name and hit you with the crazy eye and you just obey.  I honestly have never worked out so hard before. I was inspired enough to draw a few pictographs:

Her eyes

So I do this

She does more of this

I do this

She does this

I end up like this. It is great. I love it.

The White people

Emma learned about Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement in kindergarten. She told me about Rosa Parks being told by White people to sit at the back of the bus. And about laws saying Black people were not equal.  She talked about the word segregation as she understood it: Black water fountains and White, Black schools and White. Black restaurants and White.  She told me that White people thought they were better than Black people and a  long time ago had them as slaves, which she understood in a in a Cinderella sort of way. She educated her brother on this insight and we had our first discussion about racism. It was an interesting conversation. Then they got sidetracked by busses and water fountains and how much they love to drink water from fountains and ride busses.

 A few days later when I picked her up from school, she was kicking at the ground and wouldn’t look at me. Finally after much coaxing she told me that she had to work with two boys in class who bossed her around.  She complained heartily about not wanting to do what they were making her do and it was NOT FAIR!

 Zach: “Oh, they must have been the White people.” He said with a weary sigh, “The White people are bossy. They are not nice.  They think they are better than us. Good thing we are not the White people!”

“Well actually, we are white people.” I interjected. "Look at our skin. We are white."

‘No we are not! We are not the White people!” Emma exclaimed.

“Oh yes, we are white people.”

They don’t believe me.

“We don’t hate anybody! We don’t have slaves!”

“Yes, but, we are still white people.”

-Total confusion ensued. There was a long contemplative silence from both children.

“We are not the White people.” Said Zach, very quietly and with great conviction.

I see many more conversations in our future.