On several different occasions, Paisley and I have talked about what it means to be gay. We took her to the Pride parade last year and she’s overheard us having conversations about different things. I told her that it means a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman in the same way that Mommy and Daddy love each other. She has accepted the idea without judgement or confusion. She’s only five but without the social or cultural context she just sort of embraced it and moved on. I realize that as she gets older there will be more conversations, but I also think (hope) that by the time she is a teenager, it won’t be a big del. Already in my own lifetime, I have seen incredible steps taken towards equality and I can only assume that will continue.
The other day I was reading the newspaper and Paisley peered over my shoulder, “What is that picture of Mom?” It was a picture of a protest. Angry people were holding up posters printed with homophobic slurs. They were protesting gay marriage. I tried to explain to Paisley that some people don’t want gays to get married. She didn’t understand, “Why not?” I didn’t really have a good answer. So I tried to explain that for a long time, gay people had to hide away. That they couldn’t tell people who they really were or love who they loved. She found the entire idea hard to grasp and very sad, “But you should just be who you are, right Mom?”
I found it very interesting that homosexuality was a concept both easily explained and understood,but that we both struggled with understanding the hatred that so often accompanies it.
I guess it’s not really that complicated at all.
I’ve been spending a lot of time lately trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. It’s a tough choice. It’s even tougher when you’re 35 years old and a mother of two. Those realities don’t necessarily limit your option, but they sure do define them. I feel tired these days. Not of life (never of life) but of trying to become what and who I want.
Paisley turned five in January. Five seemed like a big one to me. She starts kindergarten next fall and is turning into a big kid right before my eyes. Parenting is bittersweet – you want them to grow up. I mean, that is the objective. You want them to be healthy and eventually, a fully-functioning adult. And yet, there are days where you just want them to stop. This age, and every age before it, has been a study in wonder and innocence. Paisley is creative without knowing it. She is sweet and gentle without feeling vulnerable. She is joyous without the anchoring regard for what others around her might think. She will dance naked in the living room and feel nothing but sheer jubilation. She goes to sleep each night with peace and a sense of security. She looks at the world with awe and a sense of wonder and reverence. She loves with abandon and tells you “Don’t do that!” when she doesn’t like something. She has a lot to teach me.
It has been a long fall. We had a miscarriage (that’s 7 pregnancies in total now) in October that has left my life a little topsy-turvy. I had a d&c that, as it turns out, wasn’t succesful so my hormones have been crazy. The doctor put me on Misoprostol and that lovely little process has only just finished. Hoping we can get a clear ultrasound next week and just put that behind us. As for the other after-effects of this pregnancy, who knows. Shortly after the miscarriage, my hubby informed me that he is now 100% sure he does not want another baby. I came out even more sure than I had been going in to this that I desperately do want another baby. Love can build a bridge but it can’t span this divide I’m afraid. The respectful but exhausting debate rages on. I get where he is coming from. He gets where I am coming from but neither one of us seems able to cross the line. Any experience with this one?
Deciding to have a child was an easy choice for me to make. I always knew that I eventually wanted to have kids and I was excited to become a Mom. Number two was also an easy choice because I had never really entertained the idea of having an only child. Now we are faced with the decision to have more or stick with two and it’s proving to be a tough decision for me (and my hubby). Continue Reading
For once I will actually believe anyone who says they are reading Playboy for the articles! This interview with Richard Dawkins is a good read and will arm any atheist with enough information to refute a number of silly claims.
Several years ago, Richard Dawkins wrote his then-ten-year-old daughter a letter. In the letter he explains the importance of evidence and outlines three bad reasons to believe a statement is true (tradition, authority and revelation). Like most things that Dawkins writes, it is clear, concise and convincing. He is obviously passionate about reason and science and instilling these values in his child
I didn’t die, I didn’t get sick and I definitely didn’t convert back to Christianity. I’m just trying to get my life together and carve out some space and time for myself. I was doing so well there for awhile and I missed this blog when I took a break. I really did.
My problem is that posts seem to come to me as I’m lying in bed at night, when I’m just too damn tired to get up and write. Or when I’m driving the car, and writing would kill me and my whole family. I’m not a good note-jotter because I always convince myself that I will remember (with unparalleled eloquence no less) all the things I want to say. Then Declan throws a cup at my head and Paisley starts screaming “Mom! Mom! Mom” and quels surprise, I lose it. I am forever awed by mothers who stay at home and write novels in their “spare time”. Okay, awed and maybe a little bit suspicious.
I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. About motherhood and womanhood and feminism and justice and anger. And what I’m going to do about all of those things. We are trying to decide whether we want another baby and I am also wrestling with the idea of going back to work (in some capacity anyway). These decisions have sent me into an existential tailspin and I have yet to come up with any concrete answers but I do feel like I’m making some headway. Will post in more detail as details become ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶i̶s̶t̶i̶c̶ available.
In the meantime, here are some pics of what we’ve been up to:
After a melt down, followed by a hug:
“Mom, I just have one more, sob, thing to, sob, say…”
“Ok fine, as long as it’s positive.”
“It is. I don’t like you.”
“That’s not positive Paisley.”
“Fine. I’m positive I don’t like you.”