OMG. We're still alive but it's been A MONTH
At the beginning of the month the kids and I drove to Colorado to work on my mom's house. It was a really fun road trip and I am so grateful for them. They made a hard job much more fun.
I have so many thoughts about the overturning of Roe v Ewade, but what I keep coming back to is this. Someone you know has had an abortion.
According to the Guttmacher Institute, 1 in 4 women will have an abortion by the time they're 45. Some of those women are young. Some are alone. They might be facing an impossible decision. They might be scared, or unprepared, or weighing complicated medical scenarios. They might not be ready to be mothers yet, or ever.
Or they might might not be. They might be happily married. They might have three wonderful kids. They might have stable housing and a good job and enviable medical insurance. They *could* add another baby to the family but that doesn't mean that they want to. So they don't. Period, end of story.
I feel so sad, and mad, and hopeless. Someone said that their first thought was "I wish I was a boy." That resonated with me so much. If my neighbor needs a kidney I can say “no.” If I don’t ever want to floss my teeth I don’t have to. If I never want to eat a tuna sandwich, I can make that choice. But now because of some bullshit, politically driven divisive rhetoric, I and my daughters can be reduced to breeders (not really, because yay California but still.) I spend so much energy talking with my kids, my son AND my daughters, about how amazing it is to be them. About feminism and equality and not letting anyone tell you who you are or what you can do. And we talk SO MUCH about consent. You don't have to hug anyone you don't want to. Your space is your own. You don't have to kiss your grandma if you don't want to. High fives or hugs? And yet, if you do consent? If you choose how you want to use your body? And you happen to be a girl? Then you lose that agency for the next nine months, at least. And that just fucking sucks.
My girls will likely be fine. I know that. They are lucky enough to live in a state that likely will retain abortion rights and they were lucky enough to be born with enough privilege that they will have access to care regardless. And yet, it's just such a slap in the face that no matter how far we've come, it's so easy to be reminded that it will always be easier if they were boys.
Fuck the patriarchy.
Averson is really, really into Greek mythology these days. When we went to Hawaii she was fascinated by the stories that our guide told us about the various constellations, and loved the legends of the islands. Then she started reading Percy Jackson and her librarian held a new copy of Percy Jackson Greek Heroes for her ("MOM! I'm the very first person who gets to read this!" I will never not have heart eyes for a librarian), and ever since then she's obsessed.
Last night she was telling me that Athena and Artemis are her favorite goddesses, because, and I quote, "They're not girly goddesses."
So it turns out my work is not done here. I am very quick to smash the patriarchy, and still the pull for girls to avoid being "girly" is strong. I wanted to talk about how there's nothing wrong with being "girly" but at the very last moment shifted my approach.
I asked her if they were girls. She said yes. So then I asked, doesn't that by definition make them "girly?" She thought about it for a second and agreed, even though I don't think she wanted to. And then we had a talk about how she was defining "girly" (silly, prissy, dependent, weak) and how using that term in a derogatory manner promotes the idea that girl-like is something to avoid. We decided that Artemis and Athena are in fact, Girly Goddesses.
And that's how I ended up doing an impromptu lecture on feminism at 9:00 last night. Also she forgot about the poster she was asking me to buy so I might be on to something.
I texted a friend the other night and confessed, "I don't think I have very good stress management skills" to which she replied, "Really? I think you just have a lot of stress" and honestly, it was the kindest thing she could have said. There is a lot going on and I pretty consistently am feeling like those characters in the ridiculous action scenes that have their noses pressed to the ceiling while the water rises. It's fine, or actually it's not but it will be, and like everything else the only way through is through.
But in the meantime, there are small little pockets of things that are bringing me such delight.
Like these tiny whales I've learned to crochet! The first one took about three days based off of a 30 minute real-time video, but now I can do it from memory in about an hour. They're twee and precious and I love them a lot. My ultimate goal is to be able to crochet a Dolly Parton doll, but for now I'm going to move on to maybe an octopus or a seahorse. Or maybe make a whale into a piranha. It's such a silly thing and I love it. I also have apparently begun collecting other people's amigurumi and have a whole shelf in my office, plus this awesome gremlin I bought because it reminded me of my mom.
And I guess I'm really into historical fiction about women in WWII? I didn't realize it until I was geeking out about The Huntress, which I'm listening to on audiobook (HIGHLY recommend, and so good via audiobook). That led to me talking about The Rose Code, which led to Code Girls, which made me realize that I'd chosen The Wedding Dress Sewing Circle for my Book of the Month and now I think it's officially a "thing." If you know of a historical fiction book about the Rosies in the shipyards or the Radium Girls, please please please leave a comment!
And speaking of Rosies, I bought this jumpsuit at Old Navy and 1) it was obviously totally meant to be because it was the only one in my size, on clearance, in the wrong area and 2) it's the greatest thing that's ever happened to my Rosie loving self. I mean, is there anything more perfect? It brings me such ridiculous joy. If it didn't immediately turn 95 degrees the day after I bought it, I think I would wear it every day. Instead I just gaze lovingly at it and whisper, "soon."
No one prepared me, when I was wishing for confident, funny children, for the moment when a child would so self-rightously look me dead in the eye and question why I was reacting so strongly to something they did. Something that made me genuinely understand why they had to clarify that you can only drop infants off at fire stations. Something so egregiously against the rules of both our home and regular society that I was the epitome of the word "flabbergasted." Like, if you've ever watched any teen drama, read a book, or engaged with anyone, anywhere, at anytime you would know that what they did was patently "not cool."
Parents of older kids, help me out. I have to believe that they are good, smart people at heart but good Lord, I may actually go out for milk and never come back.
