I am so lucky.
I was raised in a family where the gender dynamic was not even close to even. We weren't just female-heavy in our ratio. Females are dominant in our family. Not only in my nuclear family, but in my extended family of cousins too. It was a matter of fact that we are strong women. We were raised by strong women.
I was also raised by a strong man who believes to be very depth of his being that each of us can be anything we want to be. ANYTHING. I cannot think of a single time in my life when my father treated me differently than my brother. Want to play sports? Great, let's get your geared up so you can play your best. Need to practice? Let's hit the driveway. Tough spot in school? Let's sort it out. You have rehearsal? Let's get you there and home again safely. It wasn't only him, but when I think back, as far back as I possibly can remember, I never had my father say "you can't..." to me except in two instances:
1. When I wanted to wear my Emory University shorts inside out to the state finals in my senior year for basketball. My reason - the shorts were the only red shorts I owned but I was there supporting my team, not Emory. His reason - just no. Turn em back out. I glowered, I muttered under my breath (hm, wonder where THAT trait comes from) but I did it because I tested him completely throughout my adolescence and that was the first NO he gave me.
2. In my third year of college, when I became enamored of clowning (yes, clowning) and decided that once I completed my degree I would join the circus as a clown for a year. That got a big fat nope from him too.
I am so lucky.
I was so outspoken, sassy, strong, pick-your-synonym if you don't like mine when I was in high school that it inspired fear in boys. I attended an all girls high school, but the first day I had to go to the boys high school, 4 times the size of my own, I walked down the center of the hall there, between rows upon rows of lockers and hundreds of boys, with my head up, my eyes open and ready for a challenge. Many, many times I was challenged there. Every time, I refused to back down. Even to the point of being escorted to their office for a conversation with their Dean of Students whose responsibilities included handling the problems students. I wasn't even one of his students.
Because of how I was raised, it never occurred to me that I needed to be quiet, or unassuming, or demure. Naw, screw that? I was female, I was human, and I would not be denied my rights as a human. Before anyone ever made the astonishingly simple relation that human rights apply to all humans, I believed that and tried to live it. And I was never punished for living that way, not even by the Dean of Students of the boys' school.
I am so lucky.
I went to college without a single concern about being safe. I have always been safe, even when I made stupid choices of epic proportions. I'm certain I made them. I probably have friends who can verify them! But I stomped out of college unscathed, and I know so many women who did not. I wish I had done more for them.
I am so lucky.
I worked at a wonderful place for a decade. While there, I was promoted to an executive position in my office, and a male partner asked me after the announcement if it made sense that I was an executive since I wasn't even 30. My response, carefully stated since I'd learned to be wiser with words as I matured, was to say, "Why not? No one else was clamoring for this."
It never came up again, and he was one of my greatest champions while I worked there.
I am so lucky. And it's time for me to start pushing that luck out of me and into those who will come. My sons, who have privileges so deep they cannot even begin to fathom them, and whose interest in social justice inspires me. My community, which has much of what it needs but can always make room for improvement. My country, which has suffered terribly in the last 15 months in an ugly electoral cycle that is certainly not the first of it's kind, but without question the most televised one. I may write Ryan Murphy and tell him that next year he needs to do American Horror Story: Election.
But I am so lucky. And tomorrow, I vote.
Monday, November 07, 2016
Tuesday, October 04, 2016
Well, That Was Interesting
The boys and I just returned home from delivering a congratulations card, balloon and small floral arrangement to their teacher whose first baby arrived yesterday. It was our first non-emergency visit to the hospital together ever.
As we left the building, we talked about when they could meet the baby (we dropped everything at the nurses' desk at the ward, not wanting to disturb her) and that they had to be healthy so their good health could protect the baby, etc. As we drive out of the parking garage, Tucker asked, "Does everyone who dies come to the hospital?"
No, I said. Not everyone. When Connor died, they brought him here. They wanted to know why. So as I drove home in the blinding late afternoon sun, I tried to explain about resuscitation, and why their brother was brought to the hospital. They seemed to understand immediately why the EMTs took him straightaway, which was a relief. But I had to explain to them why their father and I had decided years prior to not resuscitate their brother should he suffer a lack of oxygen. To their eternal credit, they seemed to understand. They both said, how sad it would be if he could have done less than he did.
And then Tucker, who cannot be pessimistic it seems unless it relates to me being "the worst", said, wouldn't it have been amazing if they HAD resuscitated him, and he was all fixed and could do everything?
Yes, my man. It would be, in fact, miraculous.
They were both on board with this miracle, and much of the rest of this ride home was a discussion of how cool it would have been to have Connor come home and be the most amazing big brother.
Good Lord, they try me most days, but my kids are pretty amazing. I'm a lucky Mom to have them here with me.
As we left the building, we talked about when they could meet the baby (we dropped everything at the nurses' desk at the ward, not wanting to disturb her) and that they had to be healthy so their good health could protect the baby, etc. As we drive out of the parking garage, Tucker asked, "Does everyone who dies come to the hospital?"
No, I said. Not everyone. When Connor died, they brought him here. They wanted to know why. So as I drove home in the blinding late afternoon sun, I tried to explain about resuscitation, and why their brother was brought to the hospital. They seemed to understand immediately why the EMTs took him straightaway, which was a relief. But I had to explain to them why their father and I had decided years prior to not resuscitate their brother should he suffer a lack of oxygen. To their eternal credit, they seemed to understand. They both said, how sad it would be if he could have done less than he did.
And then Tucker, who cannot be pessimistic it seems unless it relates to me being "the worst", said, wouldn't it have been amazing if they HAD resuscitated him, and he was all fixed and could do everything?
Yes, my man. It would be, in fact, miraculous.
They were both on board with this miracle, and much of the rest of this ride home was a discussion of how cool it would have been to have Connor come home and be the most amazing big brother.
Good Lord, they try me most days, but my kids are pretty amazing. I'm a lucky Mom to have them here with me.
Monday, September 26, 2016
What Makes A Long Life?
Lest you think that last week's post would predict a continued rough patch, we had a really great weekend.
But today is actually one of the biggest days, and one of the biggest trap doors, even though I knew it was coming.
By the end of today, Drew has officially lived longer than Connor. This year will be a series of 10th birthday parties for Drew, and his friends, and every time I will celebrate the amazingness of those roughly 3654 (thanks, leap years!) days. Inside, though, the realization that the decade, the double digits have been breached and it will make me sad to know that with all the things Connor did accomplish in his short life, that wasn't one of them.
But, he did live roughly 3280 more days than they told us they expected. That's a pretty good over. If I were better at math, I could interpret that better. But I'm not, and have accepted that.
One week until Drew is 10. He's very excited. Which means that he won't see anything from me except for huge smiles for him.
But today is actually one of the biggest days, and one of the biggest trap doors, even though I knew it was coming.
By the end of today, Drew has officially lived longer than Connor. This year will be a series of 10th birthday parties for Drew, and his friends, and every time I will celebrate the amazingness of those roughly 3654 (thanks, leap years!) days. Inside, though, the realization that the decade, the double digits have been breached and it will make me sad to know that with all the things Connor did accomplish in his short life, that wasn't one of them.
But, he did live roughly 3280 more days than they told us they expected. That's a pretty good over. If I were better at math, I could interpret that better. But I'm not, and have accepted that.
One week until Drew is 10. He's very excited. Which means that he won't see anything from me except for huge smiles for him.
Friday, September 23, 2016
Kids
This week has been especially trying for the boys, and I cannot figure out why. But on two consecutive days, they seemed to have lost their damn minds.
Day the First - Tucker's turn. Instead of listening to his soccer coach, Tucker spent most of his practice roughhousing with teammates. I personally adored it when one of them (who mostly Tucker ignored) said to him, "Tucker, why are you doing this, stop it!" AND HE DID. That showed me that my kid can in fact hear. I eventually had to tell him that soccer is a no hands sport and if I saw him put his hands on another teammate during practice I would send him to military school.
Yes. Military School.
Now, I think we all know that I will most likely NOT send my son away. His response was, "You know what? You just need a vacation. You should just go away. We'll listen to Dad and then when you come back we'll be good." So I asked where I should go, and his immediate and emphatic response was, "Minnesota."
??????????????????????
Anyway, I then explained that military school meant going and living elsewhere without us. He broke down in the saddest tears I have even seen him cry. Now he's terrified of me. But at least he's being more compliant and doing what we ask without it becoming a threatdown every time.
Day the Second - Drew's turn. Drew has this tendency to decide if I ask him to do something unpleasant (like hang up his backpack, or walk through a room to put his shoes away) by staging a passive resistance revolt. So yesterday, done with his crap, I dragged him off the sofa by one foot. To say he was shocked and terrified is an understatement. I sent him up to his room. He stomped up screaming, "I'M RUNNING AWAY!" to which I reminded him to pack a bag. Then I sat in the office and heard him go out on the roof over the office from one of his bedroom windows. All the while, I IMed Lee to tell him that Drew was actively in the process of running away. Then, from upstairs, there was a very scared, "Help!" Away I went.
Drew was stuck on the roof. He had also bent the screen and it could no longer sit in the window properly. Neighbor kids came by while I struggled to remove the twisted screen so he could get back in, and he very calmly said, "I got stuck." When he got back inside, he broke down and said, "I didn't want it to show how scared I was."
THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH. He's never once given a rat's ass about that. So, part of me is crazy proud of him for learning this skill, and part of me is horrified that he has to quash his broadly emotive personality. Truthfully, in the long run, he has got to learn to control his emotions for long term happiness. However, I love that peer pressure has never gotten to him until yesterday.
Either way, I'm hoping that I don't have to continue to threaten to get anything accomplished. I may make them salute me to remind them that there's always the chance I will send them away to learn to follow rules. But don't tell them I won't.
Day the First - Tucker's turn. Instead of listening to his soccer coach, Tucker spent most of his practice roughhousing with teammates. I personally adored it when one of them (who mostly Tucker ignored) said to him, "Tucker, why are you doing this, stop it!" AND HE DID. That showed me that my kid can in fact hear. I eventually had to tell him that soccer is a no hands sport and if I saw him put his hands on another teammate during practice I would send him to military school.
Yes. Military School.
Now, I think we all know that I will most likely NOT send my son away. His response was, "You know what? You just need a vacation. You should just go away. We'll listen to Dad and then when you come back we'll be good." So I asked where I should go, and his immediate and emphatic response was, "Minnesota."
??????????????????????
Anyway, I then explained that military school meant going and living elsewhere without us. He broke down in the saddest tears I have even seen him cry. Now he's terrified of me. But at least he's being more compliant and doing what we ask without it becoming a threatdown every time.
Day the Second - Drew's turn. Drew has this tendency to decide if I ask him to do something unpleasant (like hang up his backpack, or walk through a room to put his shoes away) by staging a passive resistance revolt. So yesterday, done with his crap, I dragged him off the sofa by one foot. To say he was shocked and terrified is an understatement. I sent him up to his room. He stomped up screaming, "I'M RUNNING AWAY!" to which I reminded him to pack a bag. Then I sat in the office and heard him go out on the roof over the office from one of his bedroom windows. All the while, I IMed Lee to tell him that Drew was actively in the process of running away. Then, from upstairs, there was a very scared, "Help!" Away I went.
Drew was stuck on the roof. He had also bent the screen and it could no longer sit in the window properly. Neighbor kids came by while I struggled to remove the twisted screen so he could get back in, and he very calmly said, "I got stuck." When he got back inside, he broke down and said, "I didn't want it to show how scared I was."
THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH. He's never once given a rat's ass about that. So, part of me is crazy proud of him for learning this skill, and part of me is horrified that he has to quash his broadly emotive personality. Truthfully, in the long run, he has got to learn to control his emotions for long term happiness. However, I love that peer pressure has never gotten to him until yesterday.
Either way, I'm hoping that I don't have to continue to threaten to get anything accomplished. I may make them salute me to remind them that there's always the chance I will send them away to learn to follow rules. But don't tell them I won't.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Like a Volcano
Things have been building. Years like this are hard - politics are so present and so invasive, and it can tear people apart, people who up until now have happily co-existed.
When I was much younger, I was shown the world of campaigning and politics, and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed helping leaders get re-elected. I enjoyed helping candidates get the word out when they were running in their first race. Of course, I wasn't given a lot of choice...I was 8, 9, 10 and some days were volunteer days at the local office, or papering the neighborhood, or whatever.
I discovered though that when you are a 10 year old girl your opinions about the greater good are not really playground material. I put it away after struggling for years with it being the first thing forward about me. Boys in high school called me a "communist" which was ADORABLE. It's a good thing, I think, that I have the quirk in my personality that gives me the power to not give a crap what people think or say about me.
Entering into adulthood, I sort of let it all go. I took care of me, I took care of mine, and I stood up for people who needed standing up for, or animals, or elements of our environment.
Now here I am, on the cusp of 43, watching my male children learn what's right and wrong, and trying to guide them to make sure they know things like when someone says stop you STOP. I do not feel as though I have a lot of support in this. The very privileged world I live in makes things like tickle-fights and other seemingly innocuous "activities" blaze with red flags around me. They NEVER stop when I tell them to stop. I have to force them. I have to find a way for them to understand.
And we have a woman running from president of the United States. A woman who, when I was younger, seemed to permit what I thought was impermissable occur in her life, which in many ways destroyed my estimation of her. Now, of course, the benefit of age and hindsight has taught me that my judging in those years was unwarranted because you never know how you will handle something until it is planted directly in your path. She's a mother, a grandmother, a politician, a statesperson, and without question fully qualified. And yesterday, she was publicly ill and now that's a THING. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Guess what, as a mother, daughter, Realtor and housewife, I am sick quite often. And you know what I do more often than not? I get up, take some medicine and get shit done. That's my job. Getting shit done is now my primary daily responsibility, and we're talking low-level stuff like laundry, bedmaking, and staying on top of contracts for clients. I stay in bed if I have a fever or am actively barfing. Otherwise, I'm on my feet, making lunches, bossing kids, and generally sucking it up.
Guess what, people? Everyone gets sick, even the president. Frankly, if I were president, I'd be sick a WHOLE lot more, because the stress and the pressure must take so much energy from you. I imagine I'd have a complete set of false teeth stemming from so much teeth grinding that the dentist would just say, "Sorry, they're all nubs and have to go. On the plus side, no more cavities!"
She's been sick all week with an infection that in fact can be cured with rest and antibiotics, and people are wasting time discussing whether or not she has "it" in her to handle the presidency?? When the alternatives are a xenophobic megalomaniac and a candidate who has almost no focus on foreign policy, we are wasting precious moments and fleeting seconds even considering them? She could destroy either or both of them together in a debate on foreign policy right now, hopped up on antibiotics and resting. If they debated today, she'd still roast them.
Do you think that in the 4 years she was Secretary of State, she was never sick? Do you think that in her 8 years as a federal Senator, or 8 years as FLOTUS or 8 years as FL of the state of Arkansas she was never sick? COME ON. That is insane.
It's starting to boil over. All the latent feminism I've been storing inside is starting to come out. My poor kids better watch out. My poor husband too. Because I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more...
When I was much younger, I was shown the world of campaigning and politics, and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed helping leaders get re-elected. I enjoyed helping candidates get the word out when they were running in their first race. Of course, I wasn't given a lot of choice...I was 8, 9, 10 and some days were volunteer days at the local office, or papering the neighborhood, or whatever.
I discovered though that when you are a 10 year old girl your opinions about the greater good are not really playground material. I put it away after struggling for years with it being the first thing forward about me. Boys in high school called me a "communist" which was ADORABLE. It's a good thing, I think, that I have the quirk in my personality that gives me the power to not give a crap what people think or say about me.
Entering into adulthood, I sort of let it all go. I took care of me, I took care of mine, and I stood up for people who needed standing up for, or animals, or elements of our environment.
Now here I am, on the cusp of 43, watching my male children learn what's right and wrong, and trying to guide them to make sure they know things like when someone says stop you STOP. I do not feel as though I have a lot of support in this. The very privileged world I live in makes things like tickle-fights and other seemingly innocuous "activities" blaze with red flags around me. They NEVER stop when I tell them to stop. I have to force them. I have to find a way for them to understand.
And we have a woman running from president of the United States. A woman who, when I was younger, seemed to permit what I thought was impermissable occur in her life, which in many ways destroyed my estimation of her. Now, of course, the benefit of age and hindsight has taught me that my judging in those years was unwarranted because you never know how you will handle something until it is planted directly in your path. She's a mother, a grandmother, a politician, a statesperson, and without question fully qualified. And yesterday, she was publicly ill and now that's a THING. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Guess what, as a mother, daughter, Realtor and housewife, I am sick quite often. And you know what I do more often than not? I get up, take some medicine and get shit done. That's my job. Getting shit done is now my primary daily responsibility, and we're talking low-level stuff like laundry, bedmaking, and staying on top of contracts for clients. I stay in bed if I have a fever or am actively barfing. Otherwise, I'm on my feet, making lunches, bossing kids, and generally sucking it up.
Guess what, people? Everyone gets sick, even the president. Frankly, if I were president, I'd be sick a WHOLE lot more, because the stress and the pressure must take so much energy from you. I imagine I'd have a complete set of false teeth stemming from so much teeth grinding that the dentist would just say, "Sorry, they're all nubs and have to go. On the plus side, no more cavities!"
She's been sick all week with an infection that in fact can be cured with rest and antibiotics, and people are wasting time discussing whether or not she has "it" in her to handle the presidency?? When the alternatives are a xenophobic megalomaniac and a candidate who has almost no focus on foreign policy, we are wasting precious moments and fleeting seconds even considering them? She could destroy either or both of them together in a debate on foreign policy right now, hopped up on antibiotics and resting. If they debated today, she'd still roast them.
Do you think that in the 4 years she was Secretary of State, she was never sick? Do you think that in her 8 years as a federal Senator, or 8 years as FLOTUS or 8 years as FL of the state of Arkansas she was never sick? COME ON. That is insane.
It's starting to boil over. All the latent feminism I've been storing inside is starting to come out. My poor kids better watch out. My poor husband too. Because I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more...
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
The All Clear
Back in the day, when Connor was first diagnosed, Lee and I would talk about how we were going to throw this enormous, hella party to celebrate when his EEG came back 100% clear. We had so many people to invite from the vast network of family and friends who supported us and him in those early days.
The closer we got to Connor's first birthday, the more it sank in that we would never get a 100% clear EEG. Undaunted, as we tend to be, we moved forward and had an enormous first birthday party for Connor, inviting basically every person we ever knew. The party was crazy - probably more than 70 people came to celebrate with us, and to accept our thanks for their love and support in this difficult year. In the same timespan of April 2004 to February 2005, we had been given a staggering diagnosis for our son, wallowed in self-pity and grief, contemplated splitting up due to extraordinary sadness on both our parts, learned to care for Connor the way he needed (including 42 injections - one per day, and then how to get enough food into him, and then how to get his medicine in and keep it there, and then, and then, and then...), realized that splitting up only weakened our position of Us-for-Him-Against-the-Rest, started getting sleep again, and then he was 1.
Anyway, the point is, for Connor we never got an all clear.
Today, I had another skin check. Which made me realize it's been 2 years since the cancer diagnosis and surgery. It felt like a LOT longer than 2 years had passed. As of this morning, I've been given the all clear. No recurrence. YAY! I called my mom after texting Lee on my way out to tell her I was released to GenPop for my skin. Now I only need to get checked once a year.
Not bad, really.
No matter what, your body keeps going.
So it's time for my mind to keep going too, and hopefully, my spirit.
The closer we got to Connor's first birthday, the more it sank in that we would never get a 100% clear EEG. Undaunted, as we tend to be, we moved forward and had an enormous first birthday party for Connor, inviting basically every person we ever knew. The party was crazy - probably more than 70 people came to celebrate with us, and to accept our thanks for their love and support in this difficult year. In the same timespan of April 2004 to February 2005, we had been given a staggering diagnosis for our son, wallowed in self-pity and grief, contemplated splitting up due to extraordinary sadness on both our parts, learned to care for Connor the way he needed (including 42 injections - one per day, and then how to get enough food into him, and then how to get his medicine in and keep it there, and then, and then, and then...), realized that splitting up only weakened our position of Us-for-Him-Against-the-Rest, started getting sleep again, and then he was 1.
Anyway, the point is, for Connor we never got an all clear.
Today, I had another skin check. Which made me realize it's been 2 years since the cancer diagnosis and surgery. It felt like a LOT longer than 2 years had passed. As of this morning, I've been given the all clear. No recurrence. YAY! I called my mom after texting Lee on my way out to tell her I was released to GenPop for my skin. Now I only need to get checked once a year.
Not bad, really.
No matter what, your body keeps going.
So it's time for my mind to keep going too, and hopefully, my spirit.
Friday, July 08, 2016
Fixing
The last month or so has been about fixing. Fixing my attitude towards my reality, expressing less anger about things.
It was also about fixing in terms of health. First my dad, with his very serious surgery (which went well, and his recovery at home continues to do well also). Then Lee, who had a minor spill off his bike but managed nevertheless to damage his left thumb to the point that he needs surgery also. Right now, I'm in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting to be brought back to sit with him until the surgery. Good Morning, America is on the TV, playing the press conference from the Chief of Police in Dallas, and I believe the Mayor.
My dad needed fixing. My husband needs fixing. Our country needs fixing. There's not just one person who can make it great again. America became great because the will of the people was to be great, and we strove together to make it so. We have to do better. We have to love each other before all else.
I've seen the amazing things accomplished by love. Back in high school, there was some overwrought argument occurring during rehearsals for a show I was in with my sister. She was so frustrated she started crying. I immediately started crying; it was utterly out of my control. Someone asked me, why are you crying? Because she's my sister, and I love her and I hurt when she hurts. I was 14 then. It's been almost 30 years since then, and now I cry with Alton Sterling's family, and with Philandro Castile's family, and with Dallas, and especially the families of the murdered police officers, as a whole. I cry with the families of all the victims at Pulse. I cry with the family of Trayvon Martin. I cry with all the grieving families, of all the victims of senseless crime and killing. These days, that means I'm crying every single day.
I'm so tired of crying. It's time to change the story. It's time to look every person I encounter in the eye with an open heart and smile, and ask, how are you? Because we are all sad, and angry, and frustrated, and unsure of what to do. But I have to do something, and since it has to start somewhere, I'll start it in my community. You're on notice, community. I am coming for you with all the love I've got, and I will not let you down.
If we all made that promise, how far could we get?
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