Uppercase Woman

Update + Pity Party!

So, wow--struck a chord with that last post, eh?

After reading everyone's responses, yesterday we headed off to the playground determined that Tori would hold my hand while walking to the park.

YIKES.

She REALLY didn't want to. And by that I mean, screaming, crying, flinging herself down onto the sidewalk in dismay. We made it about fifteen feet. Every time she fell to the ground I'd let go of her hand/arm, and then when she tried to walk I grabbed it again. I said, quietly and firmly, "Walk? Playground? Slide? Hold hand!" Over and over and over again. Finally, after she was crying so hard she was starting to choke and puke, and flinging herself down on the concrete sidewalk hard enough to bruise, I just picked her up and brought her home, washed her face, and gave her some juice.

She was SO MAD AT ME. For HOURS after. I cannot convey to you how much this took out of us both, and how awful it was, and how horrid I felt. I can't do this every day. I simply can't.

So, we went to Tarjay, and let Tori pick out a backpack leash thing (by pick, I let her choose between the bear and the monkey--she chose the bear, which surprised me--she loves monkeys). We put it on her as a test to walk over to a nearby restaurant to eat lunch and...OH. MY. GOD.

It was heaven.

It's the first time I have felt safe walking with her in public in six months. I cannot tell you how much stress was lifted away from me, how my shoulders relaxed. People gave us looks--yes they did--and perhaps I did feel a need to announce to each one that "She's run into the street three times!" (which did cure the looks, by the way)--but MAN it was such a relief. I plan to use it often. I realize that it doesn't allow her to learn control, but you know what? SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO YET. She doesn't turn two until JUNE. She'll get there.

The other thing we are doing is playing "Freeze." We did it this morning inside and it was great fun. I plan to do play again at the park this afternoon, and keep doing it every day until it's second nature for her.

All in all, great advice and sympathy from everyone. Thank you so much. On a funny note, today when we got home from shopping and lunch, we parked in front of the house instead of in the driveway (so Charlie could take his other car out) and Tori had to walk on the sidewalk a bit. So I held her hand (she didn't have the backpack on since she can't wear it in the car seat), and when she resisted--with her usual methods of going limp, crying, and yanking at her arm--I just stood still until she stopped. And guess what? After just a few seconds, she held my hand all the way to the front door.

Maybe this won't be so hard after all. I think I hadn't realized just how often we give in to her demands rather than listen to the screaming--and that, my friends, is the ultimate problem, of course. God willing, with some hard work on our part, in a few weeks she'll be much better--and maybe she'll survive to actually see that second birthday.

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So, as I've mentioned about a gazillion times, tomorrow is my birthday. And as those of you who follow me on Twitter (Twitter updates are those things under my picture--where you post super mini blog updates--I'm totally addicted) already know, I was having quite the pity party for myself last night. See, weeks ago I decided to have a BIG PARTY. But thanks to a rather hilarious series of events, my big party has shrunk down to about, oh, six or seven people. With Sarah and her hubby and daughter as three of those people, and me and Charlie as another two.

Sigh.

One of the funny things about getting older is that you tend to winnow down your friendships, and not have a big huge group of "party buddies" that can help you ring in a big birthday. Or at least that's been true for me. Rather than have several dozen semi-friends (as I did in my youth), I've chosen to have just a handful of really close friends and work hard on those relationships. So it's not really a shock that all those people that I used to be closer to, or are local blogging buddies I see a couple times a year, or are "city" friends I don't see that often anymore don't feel any great urge to set aside time to help me celebrate a day that, to me, feels like a big deal (anyone reading this that falls in that category and suddenly feels bad--I am SO not trying to make you feel guilty here. I totally understand; I don't come to some of your things either. I know).

But that doesn't mean I don't feel a bit sad and regretful about it.*

I didn't realize I felt sad about that, but combined with the low friend turnout for the poetry reading (I sent the invitation to over 75 people; two came), and I just was feeling pretty god damned shitty last night. So I threw myself a big ol' pity party and invited some chocolate (just a tiny bit) and some cheetos. Then I watched a lot of TV that didn't help (oh, let's see; Betty had a rotten birthday on Ugly Betty, and there was a placental abruption on ER).

And then guess what happened? I got my period this morning.

Ooooooooooooh.

Pity party OVER.

*Don't feel the need to powder my ass about this. I really do feel OK today. You don't have to leave a bunch of comments about how you'd come to my party if you lived closer, cause I already totally know that you would. :) You can just say happy birthday and leave it at that.

One of Those Annoying Mothering Confessions

So, I've become a yeller.

This is the last thing I want to be. It's not like I have a family history of it either; my mom faced plenty of hurdles raising me and I have to say, I have no memories of her yelling much until I was a teenager (then, alas, said yelling was sadly deserved). But me? I yell. I yell at Tori constantly.

And I hate myself for it.

Plus, it's completely ineffective.

Even as I type this I want to explain myself, and blame Tori--blame her spirited ways (and yes, before eight million people say it, I will get that book), her challenging sheer physicality, her incredible curiosity, and her grabby grabby grabbiness (a couple of days ago she climbed up onto a dining room chair, onto the table, found the salt shaker, and salted the entire first floor. Then danced in it). I want to throw up my hands and say, "It's not my fault! I just don't know what else to do!"

But I don't want to keep doing it, and, like I said, IT DOESN'T REALLY WORK.

The underlying issue is fear, of course. Tori has now not once, not twice, but three times run into the street. She is very fast, refuses to hold our hands (she cries and lies down if we try) and when carried lunges about so strongly that both Charlie and I think we have concussions from being head butted. So if we are walking to the playground (a mere block away), we have to try to herd her to keep her out of the street. And if we come to a driveway, she sees the downhill slope and is all like WHEE! and runs right down it into the street. Honestly, I don't think it should require the full attention of two adults to walk a toddler a block.

But see, I'm doing it again, I'm explaining how it's Tori's fault, her over exuberant behavior that causes both me and Charlie to frequently exclaim "TORI! NO!" at top volume. Tori's reaction? About 50% of the time, she turns around to see what the excitement is all about.

Gah.

This whole thing is made to seem even worse by our wonderful neighbors who have a boy about six months older than Tori that Tori loves to play with.  We spend a fair amount of time either in our front yards or in their back yard. These neighbors never yell. They admonish their son gently and with love and he responds to it every single time. Even though they just had a second baby, they still never raise their voices. Admittedly, when they gently admonish Tori, she completely fucking ignores them the same way she completely fucking ignores us. 

I don't know what to do. I'm not sure I'm asking for advice here; in fact, let's just say I'm not, that instead I'd prefer sympathy and empathy. Right now advice would feel a bit too much like punishment (I'm having a sensitive day, what can I say--I just stopped taking birth control pills so my hormones are whacked and I'm turning 40 Saturday!).

I will say that whole "talk to your toddler like a Neanderthal" thing does work with Tori occasionally. Using short word combinations I know she knows and looking her dead in the eye can get her to respond (mostly "No kick Mommy!" and "Slide? Playground? Eat lunch!" that sort of thing). But even that is useless in communicating to her that if she runs into the street when a car is coming... I can't even think about it.

My options seem to be to restrict her further--like not allow her on the front lawn unless we fence it in (which NO ONE in our neighborhood does, I'm sure it would NOT go over well), put her on a damned leash, or just not go outside. I could put her in the stroller to walk the block to the park except the only thing she hates more than holding my hand is the stroller (plus, the whole point is to get her to exercise, and walking is good for her!).

Damn it. I just want my daughter to be safe, and that's why I yell, because she terrifies me with her fearlessness and bravery and curiosity.  But the yelling is just increasing MY anxiety and not improving her behavior, so it's got to go.

Man. Just tell me that this gets easier soon, OK?

The New Hip Thing: Being Frugal

So I read this interesting article in Newsweek and it added to the already busy swirl of money shit going on in my brain. Charlie and I are coming to the end of a kind of a financially flush period; and by "flush" I mean that for a little while we had a little extra, thanks to cashing in my retirement plan when I left my job in May and some residual cash from selling his mother's condo (most of that money is dedicated to her long term care, however). Hence our buying the new minivan, going on vacation, and buying the trailer in the mountains (although we have an interview on Thursday to see if we are good enough people to live in a trailer park in the Poconos; that should be interesting since I just dyed my hair pink. Yeah.).

But as the cash pile is dwindling (the last of it, really, is going to the place in the mountains--a good investment, surely, but still... sigh), we are turning our eyes critically to our budget and thinking about ways to "trim the fat" as the article states and make some changes that will help reel in our spending.

First to go, sadly, is the Irish Girl. The Irish Girl is what we have called the various young Irish women that have been cleaning our house since I was pregnant with Tori. As you might remember, I was not allowed to clean while I was pregnant, and while Charlie technically could have done the cleaning he decided it was cheaper to pay someone else rather than listen to me tell him how he did it wrong. Heh. We got kind of addicted to having a nice young woman come and scrub our bathroom and microwave and mop our floors once every two weeks, and it seemed to be pretty cheap at $60 a visit. But with tipping, and adding more cleaning area (my office, say, and wiping out the fridge, that sort of thing) it's gotten to be more like $80 every two weeks and as sweet as our latest Irish Girl is (we're on the fourth; apparently, all these young women come here to get certified as soccer instructors, which may seem odd, but actually helps them get jobs back home) she doesn't actually clean all that well (the third Irish Girl, on the other hand, was a goddess) so... we've decided that's the first big expense we're cutting out. I hate calling to fire someone, but I don't think the Irish Girl will be all that crushed. She's hardly what I would call enthusiast.

Next up, I took some inspiration from that article and gave my cable company a call and pointed out to them that they give new customers a better deal than they give folks like us, their long term loyal customers. We have everything with them--phone, TV, Internet--so after extensive negotiations, we saved...$15 a month. Sigh. I'd hoped for more, but still, it's something. Next up is calling our cell phone company because truthfully we use only about 1/3 of our minutes these days so we can probably do much better there.

I wish we could negotiate where the REAL expense is; our medical insurance. We are still paying $1,100 for the three of us and we have not been able to find a way to save anything there (it does look, by the way, like my migraine stuff will be covered--thank you for your helpful tips there!). There is just no bending there, no matter what we do. We're lucky, in fact, to be able to afford coverage at all. I'd love to switch Tori to the state CHIP plan (Pennsylvania allows anyone of any income to buy into the plan, and it would change Tori's insurance fees from $250 to $68 a month for the same coverage) but she would have to be uninsured first to qualify. And after being an uninsured child myself, I am completely unwilling to allow her to spend a single second without coverage. Not one second.

So I'm not sure where else we can save. Here's a question for you experts; we've considered refinancing our mortgage. While we're not paying a terrifically high interest (about 7.3%, we think), we're not paying the lowest rate out there, and with the local machinations of the feds we are wondering if we can get a better deal and bring our mortgage payment down a bit. If you are in the field, drop me an email--I'd love your advice.

Also, as you may have heard, food prices are up between 15 and 20%. That article I linked to has some sites listed that can help you get coupons and help you save at the grocery store. I need to get better about doing that--I never clip coupons, and I don't remember to bring grocery store cards with me to the store (I didn't have one the other day and it hurt me to the tune of about $20, I think). I really need to get better about that.

What frugal tips do you have? I'm eager to learn more as I start tightening the belt, so to speak. As I approach my 40th birthday (I know, I just won't shut up about that, will I?), I find myself thinking more and more about being a responsible adult.

Frankly, it really sucks.

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If there is anyone in Connecticut that has been through a loss like mine with the boys--where you had to medically terminate a pregnancy--and you might be willing to speak about it publicly and be an advocate, please drop me an email. There's a congressman that will be holding some town meetings in April that needs to be called on his shit (he claims that no provision for the "health" of the mother is necessary, for both incredibly racist and sexist reasons--you can review here for why the health instead of just life is necessary). Thanks!

Time To Ask The Internets

Sorry I've been so MIA of late. Things have been a little crazy around these parts. Our friend, the one we've been trying to help, has been doing some major fucking up of late and it's been spilling into our lives in some big ways. The latest thing? He broke into our house on Saturday while we were out (all he took, however, was the money he'd earned that we were holding for him to pay off someone. Yikes). Yeah, I know. Yeah, we're still trying to help him (within reason; he will no longer be working for our friends, or us, and we'll be keeping our help focused entirely on just keeping him clean and sober). Yeah, we're probably crazy (Sarah thinks so). Yeah, we're installing a security system too.  Why the security system? Because a week from today, we are leeeeeaving! On a jet plane! Don't know when we'll be back again!

Actually, I do know when we'll be back. We are flying from Philadelphia to Phoenix on Monday, February 11th (five hours straight through, baby, ye gods), renting a car and driving up to see our friend Dave! in Tucson for about a week, then driving to Albuquerque to see some family for a bit less than a week, then spending a night at the Grand Canyon (we will of course, in a nod to Charlie's hobby, be staying here although we can't ride the train--too long a ride for Tori, sadly) and then heading back to Tucson for a few more days before flying back to Philly on February 27th. Luckily, we'll be bringing the laptops, and staying in hotels with free wifi, so you should get plenty of posts and updates while we're on the road (with photos, natch). I'm looking forward to it, of course, but there are some things I'm not sure about.

So, my darling readers, time to tap your extensive knowledge! Here are the many, many things I know nothing about and would love to know about your experiences with. I will tell you what we plan to do as well.

1. Flying with a baby. I've read the horror stories, heard about folks being kicked off planes, and we're pretty worried about this one. Our flight out is at 8am, so we'll have to be at the airport at some ungodly hour (probably about 6 or 6:30). Our plan is to let Tori run like crazy in the airport lounge with one of us alternately chasing her, then once we get on the plane to dose her with benadryl (yeah, yeah, whatever, she takes it now and again without a problem and it's a FIVE HOUR FLIGHT). The laptops can show DVDs so that's good too, and she loves that movie Cars (I don't know why, either. It's a pretty talk-y movie for a kid her age. Luckily, I like it too) so we'll bring that and some other stuff for her to watch. We figure we can try to keep her entertained or unconscious through much of the flight. But it's going to be tough. We might have to find a playground in Phoenix to take her to before driving to Tucson, however.

2. Flying with the laptops. Seriously, what do you do? You can't put them through the x-ray machine, right? I don't want to look like an idiot here. Help.

3. Flying with digital cameras. Again, help? Do they go through the machine? Sarah put hers through without a problem.

4. The diaper bag. Is it a carry on bag? Does it eliminate one of your carry on options?

5. Toys. Should we not pack any toys and just plan to hit a dollar store once we're there and buy her some and plan to toss them before we come home? I hate the idea of flying across the country with toys. We don't mind bringing a couple of must-haves (Elmo that she sleeps with, her favorite books) but most of her toys are fun for about two minutes and then she moves on to the next thing. I mean, she'd probably have as much fun with the cups and ice bucket at the hotel as she does with her toys. What do you do?

6. Weather and clothes. For those of you that live in those areas, what are you wearing? What the fuck should we pack? I know Albuquerque has been really cold, but Tucson has been pretty nice compared to Philly.

7. Things that we shouldn't miss that we can do with a very inquisitive and climb-prone 20-month-old. If you know the areas, any suggestions would be appreciated.

8. Things that we shouldn't miss that we will love cause we're grown ups. Things that we can take Tori to and bore her with.

I think that's all, but if you think of anything else, please let me know. Tori did really well on our trip this summer driving to Michigan, but she's a different kid now; we had to hide the piano bench recently because she climbed to the TOP of the piano. No, I mean ON TOP. I think she might be evolutionarily closer to a monkey than either Charlie or I am (ok, that's not true; I was just as much of a climber). She's much harder to entertain and much busier than she used to be, so I know that wrangling her is going to be a lot of work on this trip. So any tips you can suggest will be very, very helpful. Luckily, with a little help from my fabulous sister, we managed to swing a deal on hotel rooms so we're actually in suites that allow us to have her in a different room so we'll all get to sleep at least. Sigh.

So. Advise away!

Maybe We Should Just Discuss Politics

What a fascinating discussion in the comments in the last post. I'm sorry some folks got their feelings hurt, and I'm leaving that discussion over there. OK then. Moving on.

So, someone said here in a comment a while back that they felt sorry for Tori because they thought I would be ill-equipped to deal with her Princess phase thanks to my rampant and raging feminism. Well, as you can see from the new photo in the side bar over on the left, Tori is already developing Princess qualities and I have to say I am secretly enjoying it immensely. See? Here's proof:

OK, perhaps not QUITE so secretly.

She's clearly enjoying dressing up already; she was given a string of Mardi-Gras beads by a drunken Mummer at the Parade on New Year's Day and she LOVED it until she lost it at morning care (she insisted on wearing it there every time she went), so I finally went and got her a new necklace and the only one they sold came with a tiara. She loves wearing it, and I have no issues with her doing so.

I'd love to live in a world where Sammy, our next door neighbor's son, could also enjoy wearing a tiara without recrimination, but considering the fact that you can't even get "gender neutral" toys with a kid's happy meal, I don't think we're going to get there any time soon. They love me at fast food places because when they ask whether or not I want the boy or girl toy I demand to know WHAT the toys are before telling them I actually need the one for under-three-year-olds (although sometimes we get the boy toy if it's cool). Heh.

Tori's toys are balanced, I'd like to believe. She has a bunch of neutral stuff, a train puzzle, a tiara, books, stuffed animals, a pull wagon with giant lego-type things that was clearly marketed to boys, and one of those cool popper toys that's pink (not because I didn't want to buy the standard primary color one, but the pink one popped much more satisfactorily).

But things I don't want to see in our house are looming on the horizon. Things like this. Or god, worse even--this new line of Barbie dolls (it's like they are competing--who can bring more skank?). I used to think my mom was crazy for not letting me play with Barbie dolls, but man--now I totally fucking get it. If I even go down those aisles at the store with Tori--or god forbid, a fucking rack of the dolls is somewhere you don't expect it (like I came across one at a bookstore for some reason), Tori's face lights up in a most alarming way. I don't want her to feel the same sort of lack and longing that I did--and lord knows, I got a pretty fucking distorted body image without a single Barbie doll in my house--but STILL. Ye GODS.

So what do you do? I don't mind dress up, and letting her be a girl--but I really don't want her to fall prey to all the shit that's out there, you know? Not to mention there are all kinds of other issues such as there aren't enough dolls that look like real people, there aren't dolls of color, etc, etc, etc. There is so much about this gender and toys crap. How do you balance this in your house?

Another New Year Begins...

I've been finding myself feeling more rueful than usual as this year draws to a close. This is the last year I'll be in my thirties--I'll turn 40 this spring--and while that is generally rather meaningless, I can feel the shadows of a midlife crisis circling.

I have such a good life; I have a man that loves me unconditionally and passionately. A daughter that is perfect, charming, adorable, and enchanting (do you know what she's just started doing? Every time I tell her I love her she comes and gives me a hug. Could she be any cuter?). I have the best dog ever™. A cat the mostly uses the litter pan, and doesn't ever bite Tori, not matter how hard Tori pulls on her tail. A best friend many people would kill for. A mother that loves Tori and lives close by. A new car. A nice house that gets nicer every minute that our buddy Fred keeps hanging around fixing things.

But I find myself feeling a bit sad about stupid things; I no longer have the power to draw men's glances across a bar (OK, maybe it was just the big "slut" sign on my forehead, but I did have that power at one point). I have reached that age where most people see a "ma'am" instead of a "miss." No one would ever card me for beer or cigarettes (and I no longer indulge in beer and cigarettes, which I also find myself missing a bit today). It's unlikely that I'll find myself in the flush of new love again; and while I have something so much more amazing now--a deep and abiding true love that cannot be matched--I sometimes miss the days of burning so hot that I out shined the sun.

I'm firmly entrenched in the middle of my life now. I'm no longer at the beginning. I can see, now, why people have affairs (calm down, Charlie, I am so NOT going to have an affair), or buy fast cars, or take up rock climbing (I might, however, take up rock climbing). It feels a little bit, now, like I've done it all--like there's nothing new to explore. I've already lived six or seven different lives, some of them in different parts of the country. I am now simply placing one foot in front of the other, waiting for the next thing to happen.

There is great joy in this, of course. I now actually have the ability to live in the moment, to find the hope and magic in the mundane. I no longer feel the compulsion to change the world--and, honestly, that is so freeing. Changing the world is a big job, and I don't really want to have to do it. I have the capacity to sit still now, to listen to a piece of classical music and really hear it without the impatience of youth demanding that it fucking end all ready. I can enjoy just laying in bed with my husband, our arms loosely entwined, feeling content to just be. I can sit on the floor with Tori and watch her push the triangle through the triangle shaped hole over and over again and applaud it each time with equal enthusiasm because I have the patience that nearly 40 years of being on this planet has given me.

But sometimes it's hard to just smolder when you used to burn. It's one of the joys of growing old, but one of the big lessons in humility that comes with aging as well. I know I don't want to be like those people you see trying so hard to stay on fire with the surgeries and the crazy hair and make-up and inappropriate clothes. I am trying to let my skin settle comfortably around me, and just trust that it belongs where it falls, even if part of me thinks perhaps it should still be up a tad (ok, a lot) higher.

Because the truth is, as I head into 2008--a number that is as completely unspectacular as my life is--I have everything I want. I have a perfect life. I have become an ember instead of a flame, and I am learning to be content with that. I plan to head into the new year with only this one resolution--to continue to trust that my skin does, in fact, fit me. I wish the same for you as well.

Happy New Year, everybody. May you find happiness in the skin you're in.

Juggling

Things I learned today:

1. The new minivan handles snow squalls quite beautifully.

2. I can still wear make up and dress like an adult.

3. Driving at high speeds while singing Christmas carols in a snow squall is highly restorative.

Here's proof of number two:

Today I met with a potential client about an hour and fifteen minutes north of here in lovely scenic Doylestown, PA. It was a lot more driving by myself than I've done in a good long while, and the meeting ending up being a whopping seven minutes total (but hey--I don't mind that the client wants to put a face to the website and resume), but I enjoyed having a bit of time to myself.

But at the same time, I feel horribly guilty about it.

Trying to make a living at home and also be a good mom is turning out to be more of a challenge than I initially expected. When I'm working on the computer and Tori comes over to me and stretches up her arms to me and begs to be picked up and I just can't stop working to do it, I feel awful. More often than not I do stop, but sometimes that makes things even worse for Tori when I have to put her back down again (plus, Tori has developed an absolute OBSESSION with my computer mouse--like it is responsible for taking me away from her).

The other day Tori and I decided not to get out of our pajamas all day. We snuggled and played and watched movies and she nursed, on and off, all day long. I couldn't help but feel like all that nursing was  to make up for all the snuggling she misses as I work.

Most of the time I feel lucky that I have this opportunity to do the work I love and get paid for it. I love to put words together in a way that works, and most of the time I really enjoy what I do (even when I'm jamming an awkward phrase into a very well written paragraph to make the website come up faster in Google searches). Many of the folks around me have begun to have that same success; in fact, Sarah just put together an absolutely beautiful book of her photographs that would make a perfect gift for someone on your list this Christmas (and if you guys buy a lot of her books, she can afford to buy ME a present). I just got back in touch with another friend that decided what she wanted more than anything else in the world was to write a cookbook and work for our local NPR station, and by god, she did it!

But I'm finding the whole working at home thing to be both a dream come true and quite a juggling act. Part of it is because I don't have an office, I suspect. Part of it is because Charlie is also very busy with work as well. Right now our life looks like this: we get up, eat breakfast, Tori plays in the living room (yes, while watching today's crap ass Sesame Street), dining room and kitchen; I work at my desk in the kitchen's breakfast nook while Charlie spreads his editing out on the dining room table. I often then take Tori to a playgroup or story hour; we occasionally sneak in a meeting for the adults; and then while Tori naps in the afternoon we desperately try to cram in more work. On top of all of that, we both try to answer emails, read blogs, post to our blogs, and also cook, clean, bathe ourselves and the baby, walk the dog, go to the playground, etc. Ten at night more often than not will find one or both Charlie and I working, working, working. Not fun at all. I don't get to sleep most nights these days until after one in the morning.

Sometimes? It feels like I worked less when I had a job.

I hear you all rolling your eyes (I can hear that, you know) and busting out your quarter-inch violins to play for me, but really, I just don't know how to balance the needs of an active, curious, involved toddler with my work and not go mad. Not to mention doing the few things I enjoy; last week I spent a few hours working on photographs I took of the inside of our piano while it was getting tuned (who knew it was so beautiful in there?) and while it was the most fun I had all week, I felt terrible about wasting time doing it. But I know that if I don't feed my soul I won't have anything to give to my work OR my parenting. Not to mention my marriage. Or my dog. Or my friends. Or this blog.

Sigh.

So, how do you guys do it? How do you balance your needs against all the other things pulling at you on a daily basis? What great tricks have you learned so far? The only trick I've developed is to freak the fuck out and take myself to the movies every few weeks. There's got to be something better. I'm all ears.

Another One Of Those Parenting Milestones

The mall photo studio. Tori was an angel. But holy fuck, it was a madhouse. My heart goes out to you folks with more than one child that try to get photos taken at places like this. But look how cute she is! And yes, that is my arm (they cropped it out of the print, and I photoshopped it out of my version, but for you guys? I left it in. Cause I'm nice like that). For the full set, go here. By the way--the photographer? Due to give birth in THREE WEEKS. She is a SUPERHERO.

Teenagers & Sex

Before I start writing this post, I'm going to put in two important disclaimers:

1) I am not currently the parent of a teenager considering or having sex.

2. I personally happily engaged in teenage sex.

So there is no doubt that both of those details are going to strongly inform what I'm about to say.

.   .   .

A few years back I took several really wonderful anthropology courses from an amazing teacher and one of the many interesting things I learned from her is that the idea of adolescence--a period between childhood and adulthood--is relatively new in the million or so years of human history. In fact, it's basically been just a blip; only in the last two hundred or so years has there been this idea of an in between time, a not-quite-a-kid, but not yet ready to engage in adult behavior period.

Of course, it's really only been in the last two hundred or so years that humans have lived long enough to be able to have the luxury of five or so years of young people with grown up bodies but undeveloped, immature minds and hearts. Prior to that, people (and when I say people I mean women) had to start having babies when they were teenagers so they could maximize their fertile time since only about a quarter (or much less) of their children were likely to survive to adulthood.

In other words, no one really had time to go around saying things like "dry humping only" and "save it for your wedding night!" because girls were being married off even before they menstruated and were unlikely to have spent much time thinking about sex prior to their weddings. (There was a whole other cultural dynamic going on for boys during human history prior to oh, the last thirty years or so, that I am not going to get into here).

Now, of course, it's very different. We do live 80 or more years, we do have time to wait five years or more to enjoy our youthful bodies without engaging in sexual behavior if we choose. But here's the thing; we have not yet evolved to the point where our bodies don't want to have sex when we're fifteen years old. Nor have young women begun to menstruate later and later to accommodate the cultural idea of adolescence (in fact, the opposite is true).

Additionally, up until the last two hundred or so years, young men and women were not at leisure as teenagers. They were working hard in fields and villages. They did not have a lot of extra energy to devote to pursuing each other to get all hot and heavy. I'm sure some kids managed--but were also probably married off in short order.

So what we have now is a bunch of young men and women with nearly grown-up bodies basically at leisure with plenty of time and desire for sex, sex, and more sex. We culturally impose this idea of "rebellion" on them and then tell them NOT TO HAVE SEX.

So we have horny, restless, bored, and rebellious young people. What the fuck else are they going to do?

Obviously, parents can impress upon young people cultural and religious beliefs and hope and pray that they honor the tenets of those beliefs, and wait until marriage. And many do. I'm not saying it's impossible; I merely think it's unlikely. Unrealistic.

I think the best plan is to arm kids with all the information about how their bodies work that they can handle (for instance, I wish I'd known about shit like cervical mucus prior to when I started trying to conceive), arm them with all the information that is available about birth control and diseases, teach them how to make safe, smart choices, how to trust their instincts, perhaps some self defense tricks for girls and some caution for boys (like how to tell if a girl doesn't really want to have sex, how to protect himself from being accused of assault, that sort of thing), and then sit back and hope for the best.

My mother did that with me (maybe not all of it, but a lot). I had sex very early; I was (OK, sit down, conservatives) 14. But! I was in love, I stayed with that boy for nearly five years, he was very, very kind to me and I'd carefully researched birth control and had already been on the pill for a month before we went ahead (believe it or not, this was all pre-HIV--that's how fucking old I am). I do not feel like I made a mistake, or feel traumatized. In fact, I view it fondly and am still in touch with the (no longer so) young man (I could link to his web page, but I'm not sure that would be nice--heh) and we are still friends. I had the best possible first experience that a young woman can have--I truly believe that.

So. Let the comments fly--but please, be respectful at least of each other, even if you aren't going to be respectful of me. OK?

That Question

In light of my posting about the behavior of alcoholic women, someone asked me again the big question: what will we tell Tori about alcohol and drugs given our history?

I often hesitate to answer the question because I always feel like what I'm really being asked is "How can you tell your daughter not to use drugs or drink without looking like a total hypocrite?" The answer? I can't.

But the real reason I don't want to answer the question is because I know my answer won't be popular.

Although I, personally, am an addict and an alcoholic, I do not believe that there is anything inherently wrong, bad, or evil about either alcohol or even most drugs. I do not feel that it is imperative that I impart a strong "Just say NO!" message to Tori. My feelings? She's probably going to get drunk. She'll probably smoke pot. She might smoke a cigarette or two (I'm on the fence about whether or not cigarettes are evil). She might eat some 'shrooms or drop some acid. I generally hope she steers away from the big guns--cocaine and heroin--the same way I hope she steers away from conservative politics.

My friend Sandy had a great philosophy with her two sons. She told them not to put their penises anywhere without putting on a condom first, and to not get behind the wheel, or get into a car with someone else behind the wheel, intoxicated by any substance, even cold medicine. That was it. I think that makes a lot of sense, except, of course, that Tori doesn't have a penis. Of her own. Yet.

Ahem.

We will, however, be honest about our history. We will, OF COURSE, discuss the fact that most things on that list of drugs above are clearly illegal and that to partake of them is to risk considerable consequences. We will highlight, in depth, the fact that alcoholism is a genetic disease and her chances of having it are extremely high and she should approach alcohol and other drugs with great caution.

I will talk to her about how you become stupid and make dumb choices when you are intoxicated, and that you often put yourself at risk when high or drunk. I will talk to her about how often sexual assault happens to young women in those circumstances.

I will talk to her about how much I love her, how smart I think she is, and how much I wish for her to make good choices. But I will not behave like the world has come to an end if she gets drunk or high. I know lots of people will disagree with me on this, but there you go.

Now, do you want to know how I feel about teenage sex?