Why I'm grateful for Mother's Day

Why I'm grateful for Mother's Day

A lot of people complain about Mother's Day. For some, it's just another holiday invented by card companies clammoring for our dollars. We're inundated with commercials and advertisements and pleas to appreciate our moms for all that they do for us. For some, it's a painful day. A reminder of the loss of a mother or grandmother or perhaps the lack of a relationship with the woman who gave birth to them. For still others, its a day filled with anger and bitterness at an inability to become a mother or a poisonous relationship with our own.

For me, mother's day has always been a nice, quiet day to spend with my family. It's the day we take out to remind us to say thank you more often or to appreciate the things we gain from being with one another. We don't typically spend a lot of money, because historically speaking we haven't had a lot of that to go around. Our gifts are meaningful and special because we know that they will bring joy to the women in our lives that we cherish so much. That alone makes it worth the relentless ad campaigns for the month prior.

Pre-motherhood

I remember when I was much younger that mother's day was kind of an abstract concept. We'd make cards or crafts in school and the teacher would say we were doing this because we loved our moms and we wanted to make them happy. It seemed kind of silly to me because everything my sisters or I made went to our mom. She was a one woman show for a lot of things. She always said she didn't need anything. Being with us and being our mom was enough. That always puzzled me too. Who didn't like gifts? 

Still, as with most things, my relationship with my mom grew more complex the older I got. I didn't always understand my mom or the things she did. Kids tend to view things in black and white, with very little room for interpretation or allowances for other things that might be happening. Regardless of what was going on in my life though, I always knew my mom had my back. She was always the first person I called when I had knews, good or bad. She was willing to go to bat for me no matter what. She talked to me like a person and not like a child. She listened to my advice, even if she didn't or couldn't take it. Even through the teenage years that are always fraught with uncertainty and more than a little angst, I knew that she loved me. Even if I didn't understand why she said or did certain things, even if I was mad at her or didn't want to be in the same room or I was embarrassed by someting I had done...I knew she was there. 

I didn't always realize how extraordinary that was. When people talk about how they have a terrible relationship with their mother, it's so hard for me to envision that. Even when we were arguing if I had to get off of the phone or drive away my mom would always say she loved me before I left. She had a confidence in me that I didn't always deserve and I knew that if I got in trouble or did something stupid she'd come help me. Truthfully, the lecture would be EPIC, but I'd be safe. 

Then These Little People Came Home 

Suddenly, motherhood became a much more complex idea. It became late nights and little sleep. Early mornings and multiples cups of coffee. Breastfeeding and babywearing. Co-ops, pickups, dropoffs, grandparents and plane trips and organic baby food. Motherhood is an idea that consumes you from the inside out. From the very first moment that you see that tiny little face and you realize that this tiny little person relies on you for everything, a wall of pressure comes down on you. And you gain your footing, eventually. You do what you can with the information you have at the time. You learn and you know better and then you do better. 

Motherhood is a constant process of trial and error. Most of the time, you get things right and sometimes you get things wrong. And when you get things wrong, you feel like the whole world knows and sees and that you've let these tiny human beings down in so many ways. The world pits us against one another. It tells mothers that we have to be better than one another and we make choices sometimes that make us feel superior. Then a motherhood moment comes around that smacks us on our behinds and brings us back down to earth. Motherhood is a lot of things. It's constant joy when we see our children learn new things and make good choices. It's frustration when they make a misstep or enjoy the aftermath or a well wound tantrum. It's fear when they do something dangerous and anger when they do something hurtful. Motherhood is many things but it's never easy. 

So while I might have looked back in my teenage years and said I would have done x, y or z differently if I were my mom...the truth is....I might have sunk under the weight of all the expectations. I might have crumbled under the pressure. I might not have come through with 3 beautiful, intelligent, accomplished young women as proof that I did a lot right and did a lot of good. So here's my thank you, Mom. 

Thanks for birthing 3 beautful girls 

Thanks for believing is us, even when we didn't believe in ourselves

Thanks for telling us we were beautiful, even through our awkward stages

Thanks for helping with homework

Thanks for working hard to make sure we had what we needed

Thanks for teaching us how to care for ourselves 

Thanks for not comparing us to one another

Thanks for taking care of us when we were sick

Thanks for making sure we got where we were going

Thanks for always picking up the phone

Thanks for always being there

Thanks for not giving up on us

Thanks for letting us spread our wings

Thanks for telling us what we needed to hear

Thanks for lettin us go

Thanks for getting us back

Thanks for not holding grudges

Because of you, there is me and because of me, there is them. 

Thank You, Love You

We need to talk about RAPE

Rape

Rape is a dirty word. 

Rape is a word we don't say....unless we're making a joke about it. 

People scream 'rape' in high pitched giggling voices while being playfully tossed around by a friend. 

But rape isn't funny. 

Neither is the way we treat rape in this country. 

Rape in America

April is Sexual Assault Awareness month. I doubt you know that...unless you know a survivor...or an activist. You might never have heard the term 'rape culture' used by someone in a sincere manner. You may not know anything about the rape laws in this country or the process that a victim goes through when reporting rape. You may have seen something on the news about a rape and felt pity for the victim. Then again you may be like the thousands of people who hear about rape and immediately ask what the victim was wearing. Or if she was drinking. Or if she was walking alone, late at night. You might not mean to do so, but in asking these questions...you are promoting 'rape culture'. 

You see...in the United States there's this overwhelming idea that there is 'legitimate' rape. And we have this image of a masked villain who creeps up on unsuspecting virtuous women and robs them of their dignity. We think that if a woman is drinking then she was asking for it and if her skirt was too short she should have known better and that we shouldn't punish a young man for taking something he had no right to steal from a young woman because 'boys will be boys'. Don't believe me ? Ever heard of Steubenville? Oh right sorry...there a young woman was raped while she was unconscious by two athletes. They videotaped it and spread it on Twitter and other social media. Captioning the photos with 'drunk girl' and 'rape'. You'd think that this town would be unanimously disgusted and appalled right? Wrong. People stood up for these boys and said they should be given another chance. People humiliated and degraded the victim and her supporters. But would we give the same treatment if her rapists weren't popular athletes? 

But that's isolated you say. Wrong again! Ever heard of international denim day? Oh sorry. Let me see...in a court case involving a rape trial, an Italian court ruled the sex must have been consensual because the victim wore tight jeans and her rapist could not have taken them off without her help and consent. I'll just let that sink in. 

Rape in Media

So people think that rape is this big scary crime and we shouldn't talk about it. But look at the statistics. 1 in 4 girls will be sexually assaulted. 1 in 6 boys. You know someone who has been violated like this...even if you don't know you know. And they're not scared of some random stranger because unlike popular culture tells us, 7 out of 10 rapists will know their victim. 

Recently, rape has become a popular storytelling device. Every fractured young heroine is the victim of a heinous sexual assault and only needs some bright, young, hero to save her. Rape gets the glossy hollywood treatment. Like it's something you can just get over by telling yourself you're okay, rather than the daily struggle to get out of bed and face the world. The same world that tells you it's your fault for being raped. 

What about t.v and movies? There's a famous television show that is notorious for it's seedy plotlines. Game of Thrones is a study in depravity but at least they are honest about it. However, the April 20th episode pushed the bounds by changing a consensual sexual encounter from the books into a rape onscreen. The worst part of it is that the director was quoted as saying the encounter 'became consensual' by the end and the actor, when asked if it was rape said 'Yes and No' . Look...sex doesn't morph into rape or consent. It's one or the other. Yes means Yes and No means No. When the female character is saying "NO" three times and her rapist is saying "I don't care".  When people commented on stories about it they called it 'aggresive seduction' . That's RAPE! For goodness sake if we can't even agree NO means NO all the time, we're going downhill in a hurry. 

How am I supposed to tell my kids about this? 

We spend an inordinately large amount of time in this country telling young women how to avoid being raped. Don't wear this. Don't walk here. Don't drink. Don't x, y and z. We tell people that other's sex lives aren't their concern. We don't ever tell our sons not to rape because we think if we raise them right that it will never happen. We think that rape is this black and white concept. But rape is complex. Consent is not. 

I have a son. I have a daughter. I'm going to teach them both about rape. I'm going to teach them about consent. It kills me that I have to tell my daughter that people think if she dresses a certain way or isn't constantly on her guard that she will be a target for someone. It kills me that I'll have to tell my son that someone could do that to his sister. That more than likely, if it happened, that person would never see prison. But I have no shame in teaching my son what consent means. I have no shame in teaching him that he has a responsibility to himself and his future spouse and children. He has a responsibility to his friends and family to take a stand when we see situations that mean sexual assault can happen. It takes just one person standing up saying "This is NOT okay". Rape destroys people's lives. It takes one conversation to get consent. One question. "May I _____" . We teach that it's sexier to take first and assume that we have consent. We need to start having frank conversations about this. We need to teach our sons and daughters how to stand up for one another. We need to turn this thing around. 

We need to change how we treat rape in this country. 

Rape isn't funny. 

Rape isn't a joke. 

Rape isn't a dirty word. It's an act of power. 

It's Rape. 

One year ago today, I was rounding out my second day of labor. The funny thing about labor in the movies is that it just happens like THAT. The water always breaks when the woman is yelling or doing something important or in the middle of an awkward conversation. Truthfully, Evie would not have been born on this date without an induction. She was 39 weeks and 5 days old when she was born. It took a bunch of Pitocin, Cervidil, a Foley Bulb, and thank God (an epidural) to get here here. Some people would describe her birth as traumatic, but I don't think of it that way. I think she entered this world with ATTITUDE! 

Being Pregnant a 2nd time

I remember exactly when I knew I was pregnant again. I smelled alfredo sauce being reheated and retched. In fact, I couldn't eat alfredo sauce for my entire pregnancy. It made me want to die. Being pregnant when you have 1 kid already is different. For one thing, you can't lie in bed until noon in your pajamas and eat nothing but jalapeno chips and cookies for lunch. You have to feed, entertain and clean up after another human being. You can't start being a subpar mom just because you started cooking the next meal before you got the first one off of the table. I remember calling my husband when I found out and he was so Happy. All I remember thinking is "I don't know how I'm going to do this". 

It wasn't so bad once I got past morning sickness. Declan, bless his soul, was a trooper. He was content most days to play with his toys while I lounged on the couch. The need to go vertical was a rare occurrence. Having morning sickness in midsummer in Southeast Georgia should be a penalty for something. Not pregnancy. But something. We moved while I was pregnant too. It was terrible. We weathered deployments together, just me, my bump who would become Evie and Declan. I slowly started to realize that I could do this whole Mom of 2 thing. Really, I had no option. 

And honestly...labor wasn't awful. It was long sure. And hard. But I'd do it again. 

Evie

She came barreling into this world full of sassiness. I was so exhausted the first time I held her that I didn't register a lot of what they said to me. I remember hearing something about how she had dimples. Case closed. I guess we know who her parents are. We had an adjustment period for sure. Life for Evie has been a series of uphill battles. It took us 3 months to learn she was lactose intolerant. There were rivers of gripe water in those days. And then came the binkie I never thought my children would need. She also had to contend with an older brother who is a tornado of energy. She won him over from the first time she looked at him. And she rolls with the punches now. It took her a while but she learned how to give as good as she got. 

She does things slower than Declan did. She didn't sit up until 6 months. Didn't crawl until 8 or 9 months. But then two week after that she decided..."Eh...I'll stand up today and see what all the fuss is about". She constantly surprises us with her ingenuity. She has a zest for life that is infectious. She will cure a bad mood with one smile. I see in her already a solid core of strength and determination. If she goes down, she's going down swinging. But she will pick herself right back up and try again. She makes me believe that our children are the best parts of our souls mixing to create a new and wonderful person. 

So to my Evie Grace. My little love. Our Princess Pudge. Baby Sister. Angel Face. Num Num Cheekies Savela. Happy Birthday from Mommy, Daddy and Declan. We love you so much. 

Hate is a four letter word...so is Hell

Fred Phelps died yesterday. If you are reading this some day far in the future and you don't know or care about who he is or was, that's okay. He probably got a lot more attention while he was alive than he could ever earn in 10 lifetimes. His "church" and I use that term with sarcasm and skepticism, was responsible for more hatred and bigotry in the name of God than any other in our lifetime. Westboro Baptist Church picketed funerals and Gay Pride Parades. They tormented the families of dead soldiers and ostracized, shamed and humiliated multiple groups of people. They famously held signs proclaiming that "God Hates Fags" and told the grieving families attending the burials of service members that they were glad that person had died. They twisted and manipulated Bible passages to suite their sadistic ends and likely drove many to depression, suicide or perhaps beyond. During his lifetime, Fred Phelps espoused so much vitriol, violence and filth that my stomach clenches whenever I hear the name "Westboro Baptist Church".

He's dead. He died yesterday at the age of 84, much older than many of the soldiers whose funerals he picketed. Much older than many of the LGBT individuals who his followers harrassed on a daily basis. He is dead and people are reacting. I've seen expressions of pity, forgiveness, elation, rage and a whole lot of judgement. Even now, people of every shape and size are condemning the man to hell. If anyone every deserved damnation, they write, it is Fred Phelps.

Don't get your signs ready just yet

I expected this kind of thing to happen. I knew people would have mixed feelings. Make no mistake, I'm not upset he died. I didn't know the man. I'm not taking his side. I don't think the world is any worse off now that he is passed. I also don't think, as one commenter suggested, that the world is a little less hateful. It seems that all I have seen is an outpouring of hatred for this man. What is interesting to me is that this chorus of individuals (much like the Munchkins in Oz) are metaphorically foaming at the mouth to protest his funeral. I guarantee you that somewhere right now, some righteously angry person is busy shaping the exact verbage of their signs. I think we are going to see a very interesting demographic at that post-funeral party too. 

The death of someone famous always brings out two camps. We saw it when Amy Winehouse died, when Heath Ledger died and so on. There always seems to a wave of people willing to rip the deceased to shreds. There's also a more conciliatory group who just hopes that the world will move on. I guess that's my camp. I don't blame people for having some sense of relief at his passing. I expected and didn't bat an eyelash at the comments of 'good riddance' or 'I'm glad he's dead'. I was most pleasantly surprised by my LGBT friends. I didn't see a single hate-filled status or judgmental 'burn in hell' condemnation from any of my friends who are arguably the group most insulted by WBC. Mostly, I've seen expressions of pity, forgiveness and hope for his soul. 

But so so many people are saying 'Let's picket his funeral' or ' I hate him he deserves to burn in hell'. So let me just address the first. Ummm.....didn't anyone ever tell you two wrongs don't make a right? Or how about 'an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind'? If even a single person goes to that funeral with a sign spewing hatred, they will have singelhandedly vindicated every gay bashing, soldier hating, funeral picketing movement by that Church. Because if you have a right to do it, you darn well better believe they're going to keep on keeping on. And to the second point, I must have missed the vote for the "Judge, Jury and Executioner" position. Everyone has a right to his or her opinion, sure. But as heinous, disgusting and puke-worthy I find his speech, I don't hate him or hope he burns in hell. 

4 Letter Words

You heard me right, I don't wish him to burn in hell forever. My dearest hope is that he goes to heaven and sees all the people he condemned to hell there. I hope he spends eternity seeing how very wrong her was. In truth, I don't want to see anyone in hell. I wish hell didn't have to exist. I wish people weren't so bad that the rest of us felt they needed eternal punishment. Truthfully, I think Fred Phelps must have been a very miserable man. How hollow he must have been to need to fill that gaping hole with the suffering of other people. He filled his life with anger, bitterness and judgement. I pity him. I can't imagine holding on to all of that rage for 84 years. I can't imagine what kind of life he must have lived to imbue him with that much negativity. I think he is probably better off now that he is dead, the rest of the world notwithstanding. 

I don't want to see so many people so angry. I don't want to see so many people filled with hate for a man who is long gone now. I think now is the perfect time to begin healing. I would love to see signs at his funeral with "I forgive you" written in rainbows and glitter. I believe that regardless of where Fred Phelps is, he cannot hurt anyone again. Hell is a 4 letter word. So is hate. But then again so is LOVE. The truth is that we will never win against the Fred Phelps's of the world with hate. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said ' Darkness cannot drive our darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that'. 

I think of things differently now that I am a mother. I think about the world my children will inherit. For a moment today, it looked pretty bleak. Seeing an outpouring of hatred for any reason, even as valid as you might feel his death was, is not exactly streets of gold. I wish we didn't have a world where human beings could tear one another apart like Phelps and his church. I wish men did not twist God and his word to hurt others. Mostly, I wish there wasn't so much hatred. I am sure this anger will die down. In a few days, we will move on. People will begin to get over his death and find another topic to pontificate on. When my children get older, there will be a new villain. He will die and the world will again rejoice. But perhaps, our children will change the world. Maybe they'll fill it with so much love that the villain will have no room to grow and like a weed that needs sun a water, it will find no nourishment. Hatred needs hatred to grow. I'm not naive. I know evil will always exist. But perhaps...if we stop feeding it, it will have to work harder. Perhaps...we can keep it at bay. 

Don't let Pessimism become your Parent-ism

I've had a lot of ideas rattling around in my brain lately. Quite a few topics that have been gnawing on me actually. I think parenting is honestly one of my passions because I adore my kids. Parenting is also an intensely hot topic. Everybody wants to find the golden ticket...the keys to success...the guarenteed, surefire, my kids won't end up serial killers way to raise them. The problem is that everybody is telling us different things. There's always another parenting book on the shelf. Another so called expert touting out "10 ways to make your kids listen better" or "5 signs you're raising a burden on society". And I'm convinced you could read every book there is and still be no better off than the rest of us. Why? Because all that knowledge goes out the window once you're in the thick of it. I'm talking mid Walmart at 11 am right before nap time when you swore you only had to go in for one thing and now have half a cart full of stuff and they're temper tantruming and all you want to do is crawl under a rock.

When I started this blog, it was a creative outlet. It's my way of getting things out of my head and out there so one day my kids can look back and see this when my memory is gone and I have more medications than there are days of the week. Even beyond that though, it's my way to express why we do the things we do. Parenting is intensely personal for every family. Not everyone looks the same or does the same things. What works for me may not work for you. I'm no expert by any means. All I am is a mom who tries to do better today than she did yesterday. So this isn't me passing judgement on anyone, this is just some things I feel pretty strongly about.

Don't raise your child to suit the world

One of my pet peeves is when people say x,y,or z is what is wrong with the world today. The big one that  I hear a lot is spanking. "People who don't spank their kids are what is wrong with the world today". Now if you're a spanking family, that's your decision. I'll say it before and I'll say it again. I don't care what you do with your kids short of abuse. But spanking is really interesting to me because people draw a correlation between spanking and respect. The problem isn't spanking. The problem is that children don't practice the 3 R's. No..not reading, writing and arithmetic (because I refuse to misspell them). I'm talking about Respect, Reverence and Reflection. 

Respect means a lot. As adults we think our children should be obedient, non questioning and quiet for some reason. But my job as a parent is to raise a child who can not only function in this world but can help change it for the better. That starts with respecting themselves. If they respect their bodies and minds, they can make better decisions. So few people truly respect themselves any more or their definition of respect is so wide you could drive a truck through it.  Respect goes two ways though. We need to extend respect to other people, even if they don't deserve it. I have a really bad temper and being a mom has really made me critical of how I treat other people. I try really hard to teach my kids that respect is inherent. I talk to my kids like adults and I try to take each situation as a learning opportunity. Lord knows we make mistakes. But we learn and know better so we do better. 

Reverence is something that is very important to my family. A lot of people apply this to a religious situation, which we do also, but I think reverence is one of those things you have to learn as you go. My mom always taught me to pull over for a funeral train. To bow your head as they pass and pray for the family. To treat my elders well. To enter a religious temple with the utmost humility and respect even if it wasn't my faith. I have many friends who have no professed faith but they still treat mine with reverence. I don't know how this happened or why we suddenly decided open mockery of things we once held in high esteem happened. I don't disrespect other people's faith or life choices. I treat it how I would wish them to treat mine. It's how I will raise my kids. Maybe it's a southern thing...

Reflection is hard to pin down. It's hard to teach kids. My sister is in high school right now and said the other day there was a girl who 'dressed like a whore and everyone knew she was loose'. It stung me as an adult because I know so much more about the world now. For some people, high school is great and for some it is a world filled with pain and isolation. Perhaps that's why I people watch. I try to discern what motivations people have and will inwardly play devils advocate to teach myself not to judge. Raising kids isn't about creating the perfect, obedient little servant who never questions. It's about teaching them when to ask them. When it's appropriate. When the audience is receptive. When they're going to actually learn. Life isn't about protecting them from ever seeing bad things or experiencing hardship. It's about teaching them to analyze it. To reflect on what happened. It's helping them emotionally sort out how they felt and what could have been done better. It's also about acknowledging differences and working towards understanding and compassion. 

What frustrates me as a parent

People give me unwanted advice all the time about my kids. My favorite ones are the gender rules and the don't raise sissy ones. Mostly because I'm an independent woman raised by and independent woman herself. I wasn't raised to hate or apply labels or assign stereotypes. So when my son wears a bow in his hair because he think that is why people coo at his sister or I let my daughter wear hand me downs from her brother or my son plays with baby dolls or my daughter plays with hotwheels....I'm totally okay with that. 

I get that most people aren't on my wavelength but I really don't care. I don't allow your negativity to affect my children. Wearing a bow or walking around in my shoes wont make my son gay. Playing with a kitchen set or a baby doll isn't going to make him a sissy. You know what it will do? Make him a better rounded human being. Men raise children too. Men become dads. Playing with baby dolls teaches parenting skills and play kitchens teach practical life skills. And my daughter playing with cars and trucks and things doesn't bother me either. Know why? Because one day she will have to drive and God forbid she be like me and put the water where the oil is supposed to go because someone said to her and I quote "put it in the silver thing in front of the engine". I plead the fifth folks. 

What really chaps my hide though is when people want to make their children proactively aggressive or violent or hateful to suit the world. There was a blog a few months ago that went viral wherein a mother condemned my parenting philosophy saying children like mine wouldn't be ready for the world. That girls like mine would threaten suicide over someone calling them a name and that sons like mine couldn't defend themselves or provide for a family. She said kids like mine would be weak and I didn't love them if I didn't get them ready. You know what? I love my kids. And if they never learn anything else on this planet, they will always know that I love them and they can come to me with anything and I will help them as much as I can. That's not making them dependent. It's mutual trust.

 We teach boundaries and manners and compassion and respect for all life and humility and heaven forbid my kids get my temper. I don't want my kids to be like me. I have a horrible temper. I don't profess to be perfect and I apologize to my kids when I overstep the bounds of normalcy. Violence is difficult to turn away from. It's cyclical. That's why I don't spank my kids. It's why I can't. Sometimes I have to walk away and count to 100. Sometimes I have to put my son in his own corner and tell him when he's ready to be calm and talk to me then we can play together. I know my temper. I know my weakness. What I don't know is where to draw the line. At least I'm honest. I won't hit my son or daughter because I'm not sure I would know when to stop. 

My children will be ready for this world. They will be ready to make it more beautiful. More caring. More humble and more loving. They will see anger and hate and bigotry and violence. And we will talk about it. We together as a family will decide how to deal with situations. My family. Not yours. Not society. Not the government. Not anybody else but us. 

Dear World, I want you to know...

If you are reading this and you are not my children, there is something really simple that I want to share with you, especially if you don't have kids yet. 

Dear Stranger, 

I know you get concerned when you see me in public. You see my son, full of energy and love and well...mostly energy. You see my daughter, firmly connected to me who is perhaps seeking reassurance. You may think my kids will never be independent. You may think that I'm spoiling them or coddling them or giving them too much of my attention. But there is something very simple I want you to know. 

These are my children. I say again. My. children. They are not yours or your friends. They do not belong to you nor are you responsible for them. So often people settle their eyes on the children who are loved and cared for while neglecting the children who really need that help. I want to assure you my kids are well fed. They are well loved. They are strong and brave and independent and wild.

I understand you may be concerned about the state of the world. When you see my son throw a tantrum in the store you may desire me to take him outside and leave my shopping so that you may enjoy Wal-Mart uninhibited by shrieks of exasperation from my child. But I want you to know something else. It is not my responsibility to make you happy or content. You are not owed anything by my children, least of all a world free from the sounds of childhood. In the same breath you accuse me of making my children unfit for the world you would tell me to stop my life to cater to you. 

Here's a secret. By calmly continuing my shopping, I am showing my son he can't pitch a fit to get what he wants. Even if he feels frustrated and wants to get down, there are some things we must do first. One day he will hold a job and he can't leave just because he feels cranky. And believe me, I hate hearing children scream. I do. It's nerve wracking and emotionally upsetting. But again, in the same breath that you hear a child crying you would then look at my perfectly peaceful child asleep in a sling next to my body and accuse me of spoiling. You, dear stranger, cannot have it both ways. 

I am not mad at you. You do not understand why my son is crying or my daughter is restless. It must appear to you that I am being horribly unfair to them by shopping when they are upset. Life goes on though. They learn that. I would love to give you a Dear Abby type response and tell you in fluffy terms just how crazy it is to assume things about people you don't know. I'm not Dear Abby though. I am just one mom, tired of the ridiculous expectations you have about parenting. 

If you are a parent, I support you. If you are not a parent, I support you. If you breastfeed or bottle feed or cloth diaper or use disposables I support you. If you color or read or sing or simply watch your kids play I support you. If you are different than me, I support you. If you are doing the best you know how, loving your kids and trying to make them ready for the crazy world we live in, I support you. It's not about doing everything some expert says, it's about doing what feels right. I don't know you, but I'm here somewhere raising my fist in solidarity with you. From one human being to another, here's to helping raise children who will inherit the world and change it for the better. 

Sincerely, One Mom 

A letter to my nephew

The letter

When my sister was pregnant with  my nephew she made the decision to give him up for adoption. She had picked a wonderful family who assured us that we would always have a place in his life and that he would know about us as the time came. They told us we could write letters and send him pictures. That we could visit him if we wanted to. They told us they would like for him to know us. So my mom wrote him a letter and my sister wrote him a letter and we sent him pictures and my sister visits him several times a year.

I am sitting here right now, very ashamed of myself because it has taken me 7 years to write this letter. I wish I could say I had noble reasons or that I was waiting for a grand revelation but the sad truth is that sometimes life gets ahead of you. You say to yourself that you'll do something tomorrow and tomorrow becomes a year ago and so on. But I'm writing this now, because I hope I can see him soon. And that one day, when he knows about us and reads it that he will know how very much he is loved. 

Dear Nathan, 

When you sit down to read these letters, I hope you aren't confused. You see I've written this 7 years after the other letters you will read. I don't know why it took me so long. I think I have always known what I wanted to say but there are some things that I had to experience myself before I could say them to you. I wonder when you read this, if you will feel anything at all for me. Will it make a difference to you that I'm your aunt by birth? That my children are your cousins? That I have loved you since the first time I held you in my arms and you wrapped your tiny hand around my finger? I wonder if you will feel angry or mad or resentful? I wonder if you will want to go on with your life and if you will choose to not allow us to have a part in it. 

I know these are very selfish questions. I was never adopted. I grew up in the family I was born into. I can't imagine what you will think or know or do or see. I imagine you will want to know why my sister made her decision. I can't say what was in her head, but I can tell you that the day my sister left the hospital and had to part from you was the hardest day of her life. I  know that she felt in her heart that giving you to your family was the best for you and that she misses you every day. My sister is my best friend. And I will be honest with you. I didn't want you to go to your family at first. I wanted you to come home with us. But there are some things that I realize now since becoming a mom that I didn't understand then. 

When I had my son, I imagine it was very bittersweet for my sister. I always knew my baby would come home with us so I could hold him as much as possible and love on him and never have to make the decision my sister made. My sister never tried to not get attached. She was hooked from the minute she laid eyes on you. She loved you more than anything or anyone since. I know how hard it must have been for her to say goodbye. But I also know that when God closes a door he opens another. My sister had the opportunity to complete your family. She chose your parents out of all the other people in the world to have you. They have a wonderful relationship. They never want you to doubt just how much you are loved. 

As I sit here writing to you, my children are playing on the floor in our home. When I look at my son, I catch fleeting glimpses of you when you were a baby. I see the energy and the pure love. I remember your 2nd birthday party when you played with me on the floor. I think that is one of my favorite memories because out of all the people to play with you chose to hand me your toy trains and play with me. I have seen you in pictures and videos. I wish I could visit you more often but we are a Navy family and I can't get to you as much as I'd like. 

But I will see you soon. And when I see you I don't want you to be scared. I will probably cry. My husband says I cry a lot. Being a mom makes you emotional. I hope you can feel how much I love you in every hug. I hope that you will allow me to sit with you and learn about you. I hope you will understand how much you mean to me. And when you grow up, I hope you will allow us to be a part of your life. I hope that you will find a way to be a part of both families. I never want you to doubt for one second how much you are loved. God has given you two wonderful families who care so much about you. 

So when I meet you, forgive me if I hug you too long. I'm trying to squeeze a lifetime of love into a few short hours. If I stare at you with glazed eyes, it's because I'm trying to memorize the features of your face or the shape of your smile. If I gasp or smile, it's because you remind me so much of my sister, my best friend. And if it takes a while before we meet again, know that I will always love you so very very much. 

Love, Aunt Heather

Who is responsible for morality?

Miley's VMA blowup..

I'm having a really big problem right now. It started over a week ago when Miley Cyrus performed with Robin Thicke on the MTV VMA's. Her performance was extremely sexual, contained references to drugs, promiscuity and Robin's song was essentially date rape in a pretty package. Let me say before I go any further that these are my beliefs. I'm not trying to impose judgement on anyone. I don't care how you live your life as long as you're not hurting anyone or yourself. Your morals, ethics and values are your own and no one has the right to tell you how to live your life. Okay...now that the disclaimer is out of the way here goes. 

I had a really hard time watching that performance. I was physically uncomfortable and had to look away at some points. Tons of people cropped up the social media the next day railing on Miley Cyrus and it seems like everyone has their two cents about it. Her performance bothered me, but not for the reasons everyone seems to think it should have. I'll get to that later. What really bothered me, more than the performance, was the wild backlash on social media, Facebook, Twitter and the blogsphere. Everyone from femenazi's to stay at home moms to male comedians had their say about how Miley was trashy. They slut shamed, they imposed double standards and they built a soap box so high that we'll probably be tasting Tide in the rain for the next six years. What really bothered me, and some other people, was that no one said anything about Robin Thicke. You know...the 36 year old man on stage with her. The saying goes what's good for the goose is good for the gander. Apparently, this pre-choreographed and staged performance didn't raise anyone's moral red flags. That is what I have a problem with. 

Men and Women: Morality part 1

There are a whole host of double standards in this country for men and women. I'll let the hardcore femninists take care of that education on another day. As a parent of both a girl and a boy, I'm well aware of the wide disparity between how my children will live in society one day. I know that my son will have certain privileges and expectations of him as a man and likewise with my daughter as a woman. I get that men and women are different. We all have different strengths and weaknesses, different things we bring to the table so to speak. I understand that we will be treated according to what we do and say to a certain degree. I guess what profoundly disturbs me about the double standard is the way we push responsibility onto women for morality. 

In this country, sex is the highest selling asset on the market. Sex is everywhere and we've told our children, either outright or through media, that sex sells and their success hinges on how well they can use their assets. We push this on women especially. Think about it. Think about publications geared toward women and young girls. Think about movie stars and music performers. Think about how pervasive the idea of women as objects is throughout our culture. Then think about the polar opposite side of the aisle. Think of the moral activits. Think of the slut shamers and the people waiting in the wings for the next collosal trainwreck like Miley or Amanda Bynes. We have forced young women in between a rock and a hard place by telling them they have to be sexual to be popular and successful but if they're too free with their sexuality they are evil and repugnant and disgusting. 

Ahh but what about men? Men are lauded for the more sexual partners they have. We may call them a player or a philanderer but beneath those seemingly derogatory names runs an undercurrent of awe and wonder. Men are not held to the same stringent moral standards that women are. If a women does a walk of shame from a dorm room in college, she's labled a whore, a slut, easy...take your pick. Once her virginity is gone, her value as a moral human being is substantially diminished. Every sexual partner henceforth makes her more unclean. Less of a human being in the eyes of society. As a young man, the baton of adulthood is passed when you deflower yourself. As a woman, it comes when you menstruate and gain the ability to have children. 

And so it goes. The responsbility for morality in respect to sexuality is given to women. Social media backlash from the VMA's included a host of "How to talk to your daughters about Miley" posts. I saw one...one...about Robin Thicke. One post...in the whole of the internet....that was aimed at teaching boys how to respect their relationships with women, respect their own bodies, respect the huge committment that a sexual relationship represents. I was livid. I was and am furious, on behalf of my daughter and countless moms of girls everywhere. That the faceless mob of the internet would seek to shame my daughter and define her responsibility to herself before she has even said her first word is ridiculous. 

How do we stop the cycle? 

Contrary to all those "well-meaning" blogs out there and the soap boxers in the world, there isn't a magic formula for raising children. I don't think we can really change the morals of the adult world at this point. The world we live in tends to shape how and what we can teach our kids. See...a lot of people blame religion for the double standards. I have some thoughts about that. There are women in the Bible who are painted in an unflattering light. That much is true. Some of them also did some morally reprehensible things. But let's talk about that for a minute. The bible presents a snapsnot of certain moments in the time in their lives, not the entire life. And just as the bible presents us with Herodias, Delilah, Jezebel and so forth...we also see several Marys, Sarah, Ruth and lot of women who aren't murdering, thieving, crazy faces. 

Really, we have to take some responsbility at some point. I know as a parent, I feel a great personal responsibility with regard to how my children treat other people. I want to instill the same respect for all people, regardless of religion, sexual orientation and gender that my mom did for me. So I guess it starts by being straightforward with your kids and having that conversation. Do I think you need to sit your toddlers down right now and tell them that they need to respect one another and not view eachother as mindless sex object? No. But eventually, the conversation will come up. My daughter may ask why a young woman is dressed a certain way. My son may see people engaged in public displays of affection (extreme ones) and ask what they are doing. Maybe that's the door opening for me to start teaching them. 

I think a lot of the emphasis on sex comes from deep repression. As a parent, I believe you should set boundaries and your children should respect you. But when respect becomes fear, everything that you fear happening as a parent is bound to come true. So its a fine line we walk as parents. What do we teach and when do we teach it? Like it or not, there are differences between genders. We will never be entirely the same because society isn't there yet. The world isn't there yet. But it starts with having the conversation, no matter how uncomfortable, no matter how hard it is. I know it will happen with us. I know too well the damage that can result from not teaching young men and women mutual respect. And I think the conversation does need to happen. 

The Lessons and Teachers

I think in our family, the biggest conversations will probably happen between myself and my daughter and my husband and our son. The interesting tradeoff for that is that I think the biggest underestimated influence is going to happen between my son and me and my husband and our daughter. We will talk to our kids and explicitly tell them these things. It is your body. You should respect yourself. You are people first. Treat each other with compassion and respect. You are more than the sum of your sexuality. I have no delusions. I know there's a good possibility my kids may have sex before marriage. But they will understand that sex is a serious commitment. It cannot be taken back. There is a level of trust and discretion expected between partners. They will understand that they are responsible for the image they present to the world and they will understand that a sexual relationship always comes with strings attached. 

The lesson will be tailored to each child, but I sure won't be telling my son his only responsibility is to use condoms as he leaves a trail of broken hearts along the way. He will understand when I say that some day someone could treat his sister that way. How would he feel then? Nor will I tell my daughter that she can wear whatever she wants, dance however she feels, and sleep her way through college and not expect some emotional backlash. She will understand when I tell her I'd give anything to have waited for her father and been true to myself.  I want to establish a level of trust and openness with my kids. I hope they can learn from my mistakes. I will be honest with them, knowing they will make their own mistakes one day. That's okay. I want them to feel comfortable with themselves. They will have their own journeys. Do their own soul searching. They will face the tough questions and make their own answers. But they will have a solid foundation to stand on and I hope they can stand there together. I hope they face the world hand in hand and help one another. I hope that when we are gone they can remind one another of the lessons we tried to teach them and that way I know we will always be there for them even after we leave this earth.