Category: Family

C’mon With Your Dinosaur and Unicorn Nonsense

Exactly.

“A gender-equal society would be one where ‘gender’ does not exist: where everyone can be themselves” – Gloria Steinhem

I wouldn’t define the subject of this post as a pet peeve, per se. It’s not a something that causes me constant ire, but rather, on the occasions when I encounter it, I do feel peevish. Affronted. Vexed. My eyes narrow, I shake my head, I sigh, throw my head back, and roll my eyeballs so hard they fall out of my head and down my back.

The subject? Graphic t-shirts for kids. YES, I know it may seem an absolutely ridiculous subject to get my panties in a twist about. But bear with me on this one.

I don’t spend a lot of time shopping for things at actual stores at this point in my life. When I had more money and time and less children and responsibilities, “shopping” was an actual activity that I participated in. Leisurely, at will, sometimes with purpose, but sometimes just for something to do.

Now, any shopping I do is predominantly focused on need, mostly under stress, and often with annoyance. 90% of my shopping is online, while the other 10% happens when I have to actually walk into into a store, seeking out something that is desperately needed (usually) by one of my spawn.

So, at the end of the school year, vacation happened. As it usually does, in the same location, and with the same needs and expectations. I could have inventoried my children’s wardrobes ahead of time, but I chose to delegate that responsibility to my children, along with the responsibility of letting me know what their perceived wardrobe needs were. Dummy me.

Two days into vacation, one daughter was lamenting her lack of bathing suit attire, while the other one had to borrow a swim shirt to cover her sunburned shoulders (go ahead, call me a crappy mom for not slathering my kids in SPF 500 sunscreen every 30 minutes. Also, eat shit, because I make some not-insignificant sacrifices to be able to provide my kids with two weeks of constant sunshine and activity and fun).

ANYWAY…all this to say is that I felt compelled to go shopping, because my kids needed some clothing, and since there was a huge outlet shopping complex nearby, off I went, with my older daughter in tow.

We dashed in and out of several stores, to no avail. I had already resigned myself to placing an on-line order for my teen, and then, I saw it, the store sign shining like a beacon: The Children’s Place.

If there were any store I’d be able to find something suitable (see what I did there?) for my young tween, this would be it. So in we went, trotting quickly around, looking for bathing suits.

After a minute or two, I started noticing something, once I realized that no swimwear was available. I slowed my pace and found myself looking back and forth, between this and that clothing bracket, this and that table, this and that display, my eyes widening.

Quick side note: I have two daughters, who love and/or loved unicorns, narwhals, dolls, legos, kittens, babies and matchbox cars. I have two daughters who play lacrosse and basketball. I have two daughters who excel in math and science, along with music and writing. I have two daughters who typically choose comfort over style when it comes to their clothing choices. I have two daughters who love to express their personalities through graphic t-shirts.

Still with me? Okay then. This is what I saw as my head was on a swivel:

Notice anything conspicuous? Absurd? Sexist?? If you say no, you’ll have to come here and say it to my face so that I may gently correct you, perhaps with a high five to your forehead. With a chair.

Boys clothing: orange, navy blue, red, green. With trucks and footballs and stripes and dinosaurs. And words like “power” and “victory” and “hustle” and “game”.

Girls clothing: pink, purple, light blue, rainbows. With hearts and unicorns and strawberries and kittens. And words like “love” and “beautiful” and “unicorn” (OMG sooooo many unicorns) and “perfect”.

I will admit, I dressed my daughters in the pinkest and purplest and floofiest of clothes when they were little. I didn’t even look at the other side of the aisle. It didn’t even occur to me, because the gender lines are drawn so clearly, starting with infant onesies.

It wasn’t until I did start to look across the aisle, when my oldest realized that the boys had some pretty rad shirts, that I realized how badly the clothing companies were screwing up. Girls like trucks and mud! Boys like music and horses! Girls like dinosaurs! Boys like reading books! Girls like navy blue! Boys like purple!

So who chose the definitions of identity with respect to children’s clothing? Where’s the inclusivity? Where’s the diversity? Because even if children aren’t told explicitly what boys and girls are “supposed” to like, according to the way clothing is categorized, kids are being sent messages about what their identity should be, one t-shirt at a time.

I let my Google fingers do some research, and I did find some positive results. L.L. Bean’s kid’s graphic t-shirts are nearly identical for both boys and girls. Land’s End is okay-ish. Old Navy is better than they used to be. But damn…I have called out The Children’s Place before, and I am doing it again now.

Here’s a suggestion for the clothing companies who are all over the graphic t-shirt game. How about you blend your displays in store, and not assign gender in your catalogs? Your targeted demographic(s) will no doubt respond enthusiastically about all of the options available to everyone.

Let’s enable our kids, and ourselves, the opportunity to express our likes, our hobbies, our passions, and our personalities as we wish. My child’s affinity for legos and skull designs and navy blue shirts should matter just as much as another child’s affinity for dancing, panda bears and purple shirts, regardless of gender.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Fare Thee Well!

Moving on from Middle School is the Best Thing Ever.

This celebration is but a few years away…

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca

An Open Letter to My Daughter Upon the End of Middle School That Probably Applies to a Lot of Kids This Age:

You did it, my dear. You made it through what most adults in our culture look back on and shiver with discomfort: The Middle School Years.

For most, 8th grade is/was the apex of awkwardness and angst. There’s these new gangly arms and legs that can cause a 13 year old to move like a newborn fawn, unsteady and with all limbs moving in different directions. Along with the feet and chins and noses that are suddenly out of proportion on everyone, the braces that make smiles look more like grimaces, and the dreaded acne breakouts.

And, oh…the daily embarrassment of simply existing. The absolute conviction that everything one says is unforgivably dumb and will be ridiculed in the most loud and public manner. The knowledge that everyone else is cool, confident and worry-free, so comfortable in their own skin, unconcerned about what anyone else says or thinks.

Guess what? Nearly everyone feels the same way, they just express it differently. Some try to shrink into the background, some try to overcompensate, some hide behind facades of their own construction, whether those facades project confidence, cruelty, or something in between.

Here’s what you may not realize; aside from all the super weird and challenging physical and emotional changes you’ve experienced, you have also learned a metric shitton. Yes, that’s a technical term, don’t question me.

Academically, you’ve effectively learned a second language; you’ve learned mathematical equations; you’ve learned about technology, history, grammar, science and well being. Your knowledge base is solid, and you will, going forward, build upon that base.

Socially, you’ve established a fluid base of friends. Friendships will wax and wane over the next few years, but you already know who is going to remain at your core, who has your back, who makes you laugh, who gets you, and vice versa.

Athletically, you have brought your game to a different level. You want to run, you want to bike, you want to play, and you want to compete. YOU were instrumental in your tourney games and getting your team to state championship. The players who tear up the field and score and play well offensively tend to get most of the glory, which is not undeserved. But you are bold and solid on defense, and I know that’s where you’re most comfortable. You play smart, you play physical, and watching you on the basketball court and lacrosse field brings me so much pride. You play with heart and ferocity. You didn’t learn that from me, it comes from within you, and it’s amazing.

I know you have your negative opinions about yourself, your struggles, your moments of anxiety and self-doubt. I know I will likely see less of you over the next few years, and you will share less with me, as you establish your confidants and social circle.

What you need to understand is that I am bound and determined to see you through to adulthood, and to make sure you are happy, safe, kind, productive and secure in the knowledge that you are loved. I have told you that this is my mission since you were a little child, and I mean even more now than I did then.

I make a lot of mistakes, every freaking day. I try to own them, with the thought that I am leading by example. What I won’t do, is apologize for who I am, in any given moment, which is also what I want to pass along to you. This lack of remorse on my part basically means that the sooner you accept and embrace me, the fewer struggles we will have. Just let me hug you every once in a while, okay? I know I’m uncool and dorky and embarrassing, and I’m okay with that.

So you can roll your eyes when I tell you I love you, you can make fun of me about all the things you think I don’t know. You can think and say out loud that I’m old and I understand nothing. But I’ll also be here to surprise you with the things I DO know; so when you snicker at some small reference and I ask you, “What?”, don’t assume it’s because I don’t understand…I’m testing you, to see if YOU understand.

But when it comes down to it, I know what I need to know. I know I birthed not one, but two future legends. I know you have great potential for success, as long as you don’t trip yourself up. Even if you do stumble, you can rise with the knowledge that I am always here and always have your back.

Also, because I need to include this in every single conversation we have, even if I’m the only one talking: you need to be nicer to your sister. She is your biggest supporter and most enthusiastic cheerleader. She takes whatever you say as solid truth, over anything I might say or do to convince her otherwise. So choose your words carefully, and understand your power to influence.

Lastly, I’m proud of you. I know you feel like middle school kind of sucked, but I hope you will hold onto the good memories that you made while there. You had some outstanding teachers who helped you ignite your desire to learn and excel academically. You achieved great things athletically as well.

The onset of the teen years is super not fun for either the teens or the parents, but I hope you know that I’m doing my best to navigate this territory. I understand when you don’t want to talk to me and when you don’t even want me in the same hemisphere, and I do my best to give you your space. I appreciate the moments when we have honest and candid conversations, because you are an amazing child, growing into an even more amazing person, who has so much to offer this world.

I promise the next few years will be challenging, but also rewarding. You really did make it through the toughest time, and it’s now your time to build upon your skills and knowledge as you journey on the inevitable path to adulthood. I believe in you, and I hope that in your times of both great triumph and struggle, you can feel me behind you, supporting you, whispering, “You can do it.”

Because you can, and you will.

I love you most.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven (aka Mama)

© The Twisted Maven, 2019

Sh*t Hap–

“Without the experience of trouble, calamity, grief, and adversity, you would not have courage, strength, joy and patience.” – Nishan Panwar

Initially, I was going to write about how freaking exhausting, and yet joyful Spring is for parents of school aged children. However, my planned single-subject tirade was harshly interrupted. Because shit happens, right?

I arrived, late and halfheartedly, to my oldest child’s lacrosse game on a recent evening. I was feeling overwhelmed with All The Things To Be Done, wanting to be there and not wanting to be there in equal measure (and feeling the crushing guilt the not wanting to be there brings), and on the tail end of what felt like months, but was actually maybe an hour, of having my ears melted by my 9 year old’s never ending monologue of statements, emotions, and questions that demanded an immediate answer.

My cellphone rang, which it never does, except for appointment reminders and spam calls. I almost tapped that thingy on the side that silences calls, but I glanced at the caller ID. It was my best friend from college, one of very few people whom I could not, and would not, ever send to voicemail and tell them to text me instead.

I was greeted with a small “hi” and a deep breath, and I knew that I needed to walk away from the lacrosse field. She then informed me that our friend, our sorority sister, our college roommate, had passed away unexpectedly. I listened and could only murmur small words as she told me what happened. My heart started to break as I heard her sorrow and felt her same pain. I winced as she told me about how recently they had talked and how many times they had tried to get together, but, you know, shit happens, life is busy and there is always next time.

We discussed how unbelievable, how awful and how freaking sad it was that this woman, whose presence could command a room, whose laugh was infectious, who told the funniest jokes, who hid her pain from most of the world, who was on the 77th floor of the North Tower on 9/11 and made it out alive, who serenaded us endlessly in college with her rendition of “Something to Talk About”, who could turn a minor discomfort into a super urgent huge medical emergency, who loved her mom, who adored her child, who had just in the past few years found the love of her life and was living as her best self, had actually left us.

Two days later, I found myself tagged in a post disseminating the news about a high school friend who passed away the previous evening from a massive heart attack. Although I hadn’t physically seen him in over 20 years, we were close friends back in the day. He was funny, like FUNNY funny, and he had a generous heart and great kindness. He had, like my college friend, found love again and remarried within the last few years. He had also recently announced that his wife was expecting a baby boy, and this was some really awful shit that happened.

Here’s the thing; these events occurred while my oldest kid was in the playoffs for state champions for lacrosse, which was thrilling and time consuming. My youngest kid had just finished her season with Girls on the Run, and was also playing some exciting lacrosse games, which I was helping to coach. I hadn’t seen my suddenly deceased friends any time recently, although we had re-connected via social media within the last decade. So there were all these conflicted feelings and confusion; I wanted more than anything to be fully present for my kids and their good shit happening, but yet, here were these feelings, these losses which I felt acutely, but was struggling with how to process and where to put these feelings about this really bad shit that happened.

It was difficult for me to define and put perspective on my grief, and maybe this is an issue with social media. If I hadn’t reconnected with these people from my past through social media, I may or may not have had any connection with them at all. I may not have been reminded of our friendships and moments and years past when I saw their posts, I might have had no knowledge about their current lives, and perhaps wouldn’t have been able to rejoice in their happiness or grieve their deaths.

And that train of thought made me feel like my sorrow wasn’t justified, like I had no right to grieve for these people I had once been close to, or even feel bad for their families and friends that they had been more recently connected with. And I was concerned that if I stopped for a moment to process these events, that I would be less than present for important shit happening in my children’s lives. So I ended up spending a few days sad, confused, conflicted, not present and bogged down in my own shit.

And then…and it wasn’t a sudden epiphany, it was after seeking comfort, wisdom and conversation from and with friends and family…I realized that my feelings of grief were valid and worthy. And then I shouldn’t try to skirt around them, but embrace and move through them, so that I could be fully engaged with the shit happening in front of my face.

I allowed myself time. Time to think, time to cry, time to mentally thank these individuals for being a part of my life, for helping form who I am today. They may have no longer been a part of my day-to-day, but they certainly had their place in my life and in my heart. And I allowed myself to feel sorrow and concern for their families and other loved ones who may have no idea who I am now or was in the past to my friends.

And guess what? I’m still feeling sadness and loss, and it’s still going to take awhile to navigate this. However, I have also been able to appreciate the good shit happening. I’ve watched and felt great excitement and happiness about my girls’ team playing with heart and winning the state middle school lacrosse championship. I have been able to express my pride to my girl and gratitude to her coaches.

I was able to put my heart into coaching my other girls’ lacrosse team and feel happiness in their accomplishments and achievements. I have been able to function at my job and care for the small humans in my care with all of my abilities not only intact, but with intention and confidence.

Actual winning medal and trophy for actually winning.

Grief and joy can exist together. I’d venture to say that, in fact, they cannot exist without each other. Tara and Chris, I will not soon forget you. I have great hopes for your families’ resiliency, and I have so much gratitude for your influence on my life.

The world is a little bit dimmer and a little bit sadder without you both in it. I’m pretty confident that you’d be sending me some positive thoughts about the good things going on in my life, as much as I would send them to you. As much as I will be sending them to your families.

So I will unabashedly revel in the triumphs, joy and successes achieved by my children, myself, and by my friends and family, even while I grieve the loss of you both. And I have made a promise to extend myself, at least just a little bit more, to make sure that the people I know feel appreciated, heard, and cared about. As well as taking a little more time to pause, reflect, and value small and large moments as they happen.

Because, as we know…shit happens.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2019

Say What?

(FYI, these are rando kids, not currently under my care)

“Babies aren’t savages, Toddlers understand language long before they can talk.” – Pamela Druckerman

I have been working part-time in a daycare/preschool for the past several months, and I have to say that this has been one of the most challenging (in a good way) and amazing jobs I’ve ever had.

I look forward to interacting with the tiny humans left in my charge, every single day. There’s so much that’s cute and funny, and there’s so much growth happening. It’s fascinating to be with them as they’re conducting their jobs of exploring, pushing boundaries, learning and socializing.

I do have my own kids, and have done and said some things that I never in a million years thought I’d be doing, hearing, or saying. But working with a group of young children brings it’s own level of events, routines, and more things that I really super duper never in a million years thought I’d be doing, hearing, or saying.

Here are a few:

Who pooped? Did you poop? (I say and hear this every single day, no lie)

Hold still, I need to wipe the boogers off your forehead. (how they got there, I have no idea, but they ain’t gonna stay there under my watch)

Dude, WHAT did you eat?

Wash your hands…wash your hands…wash your hands…

We don’t eat rocks!

Is that poop? That’s not poop, right? Okay, whew, that’s not poop.

Oh, THAT is poop.

Please stop running and take the bucket off your head.

Please don’t try to climb over the fence.

Please don’t climb on the windowsill.

Please don’t climb on the bookshelf.

Please don’t climb on your friends.

Please stop taking your clothes off!

Glue sticks go on the paper, not in our mouths!

Oh no! We don’t lick the paint brush.

Please stop licking the wall.

Please stop licking the window.

Where are your shoes?

Child: I have something! Me: What is it? Child: It’s a stick! Me: Let me see! (holds out my hands) Child: (drops giant hairy thousand legged scary bug in my palm) See??? Me: (suppressing a scream) oh…yes…so cool…(throws bug as far as I can, as soon as I can).

Why are you crying? (more often than not, there is liiiiiterally no reason, or it’s because: they think sand is in their shoe/their friend is crying/they don’t like their lunch/they want to play with all 10 trucks and are upset that they can’t carry them all)

Hey, inside voices please! (aka: OMG, please please please stop screaming at the top of your lungs for no reason)

Child: JENN!!! Me: Yes? Child: (runs and gives me a hug that nearly knocks me to the ground) Me: (smiles and hugs that kid and watches them wipe a decent amount of snot across my shoulder) (but whatever, their nose is now clean and I am going to throw that shirt in the wash as soon as I get home).

It is a wonderful and unique experience, guiding little ones through the mundane (toileting, lunchtime), the important (keeping them healthy and safe), the exciting (art projects, special guests and activities), the every day good stuff (learning the alphabet, numbers and colors), and the super fun stuff (creating a magical space filled with their artwork, singing silly songs that secretly teach them things like counting and sign language).

Listen, little kids should all be treasured, for they are full of humor and knowledge. We just have to listen. They are all worth all of our best efforts to help them grow, learn, and express themselves. Because our best hope is that what they learn and what they teach us will stick, as they grow into big kids and beyond.

Until next time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2019

Choice Equals Choices

“Because you are women, people will force their thinking on you…don’t live the shadows of people’s judgment. Make your own choices in the light of your own wisdom” – Amitabh Bachchan.

This piece was difficult to write, and I purposely chose not to include any graphics.

Let’s just say this month has been one of the longest years I’ve ever experienced. I feel as though I have an abundance of topics on my mind, which are as varied and scattered as my brain has been lately. There’s all these things happening, but one thing has overshadowed all of it.

It’s the fact that several states have now passed laws restricting abortion to the point that under no circumstances will it be legal to perform or have an abortion procedure without penalty to the impregnated or their health care provider.

At this point, I’m grateful that none of these laws will take effect immediately, and most will be challenged in higher courts. I hope women and organizations such as the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, as well as others, will fight against these draconian laws. I also hope that the judges in those cases will honestly and thoughtfully consider all of the facts. And that ultimately the courts will decide to uphold women’s rights make choices about their bodies, as well as access to health care.

I have to say that most of the outrage that I’ve observed over these restrictive anti-choice laws has been focused on victims of rape and/or incest, as well as pregnancies that compromise or endanger a woman’s or fetuses’ health.

To be honest, I feel like those emphases may be a bit excessive. Lest you think I’m a heartless asshole, let me say this: victims of sexual assault should absolutely be granted all of the medical, emotional and psychological support that they need, up to and beyond the right to terminate a pregnancy that has been forced upon them. And the same goes for women whose own health or fetuses may be compromised by carrying a baby to term.

Here’s my “however”: pregnancies terminated due to reported sexual assault and/or concern for the woman’s/fetuses health make up less than 3% of abortions performed each year. Yet, it seems to me that a disproportionate number of many of the pro-choice arguments have focused on this minority-by-a-lot demographic.

Here’s why I think that is: people who are pro-choice want to have the best reasons to support their stance, which is understandable. And the concept of a child or woman being forced to give birth to a baby borne of assault and without consent, or at grave risk to her health is truly abhorrent.

But I’d like to focus on the other 97 percent of women who elect to terminate pregnancies, at any point. I’d like to move beyond the obvious and into the uncomfortable. Because I feel like that is where the conversations and education need to happen.

The majority of legal abortions obtained in the United States happen because progressing with the pregnancy would adversely affect the woman’s life. Some of the specific reasons include financial instability, age, the desire to avoid single parenthood, not being emotionally/mentally ready for the responsibility of raising a child, and concern about how a baby would affect their entire life.

Does that make you uncomfortable? Are you thinking that, due to your own personal experiences and biases, that a “healthy” pregnancy should continue to term? Because the woman could choose adoption, because birth rates are falling, because women you know, or you yourself, want or wanted to have a baby, and have had to face great, heartbreaking adversity in trying to achieve their goal?

Understand that you are essentially comparing apples to oranges if that is your line of thinking. And let me offer a simple thought: why should a woman be forced to be pregnant against their will? Please let that question sink in. Read it again, and think about it.

Why should a woman be forced to be pregnant against her will? She shouldn’t.

Another way to consider it; one of the main arguments against a woman’s right to choose is that a fertilized human egg is that it is a human life that should be saved, preserved. What about other procedures to save human life? There are people who require blood transfusions, organ replacements, bone marrow infusions, in order to save their lives.

What do all of those procedures have in common? They are performed with the consent of the person saving those lives, through blood, organ and marrow donation, whether the donor is alive or dead.

So again, why would a person be forced to “save a life” against their will?

Pregnancy is an infinitely complex issue. It affects every single woman differently. When I had my children, I wanted to be pregnant, I loved being pregnant, my fertilized eggs were healthy and I was a fabulous pregnant woman. I was also in a stable relationship and financially secure. And if my two pregnancies were any indication, I could have borne many more children easily. I consciously choose not to, and because I had access to insurance and affordable birth control, that choice was simple.

But I have seen and/or heard of countless scenarios that where unlike mine. And had my circumstances been different, my choices may have also been different.

Here’s a hard truth: if abortions are made illegal, they will still happen, but without medical expertise and with great risk to the women and those who love them. At least, for those who are not financially privileged. Those with means will still and always be able to deal with unwanted pregnancies.

Personal anecdote: one of my ancestors had had an illegal abortion prior to Roe v.Wade. Which resulted in her death, and lead to her seven children being raised in an orphanage. This relative was uneducated, an immigrant, impoverished, and didn’t have the physical, financial or emotional capacity to add another child to her already overwhelmed life.

Consider this; if my ancestor had had access to legal and safe abortion services, and had legal autonomy over her body, she could have had a simple medical procedure and would have been able to continue raising her children. Think about the fact that the ripple effect of this one woman’s situation is affecting three and four generations since.

So here’s the uncomfortable truth; women choose to terminate pregnancies for myriad reasons, some of which may not jibe with your personal beliefs.

But to take away the ability to terminate any unwanted, traumatic, unhealthy, or otherwise compromised pregnancy will not significantly reduce abortions. Instead, they will be relegated to illegal locations, which could be unhealthy at the least, and deadly at the most. And those who will not be able to afford these illegal abortions are also those who cannot afford prenatal care, hospital expenses for the birth of their child, and the cost for the care of a baby.

So no matter your personal beliefs about the right to choose to abort a pregnancy, you cannot and should not impose them upon others. Women deserve autonomy over their bodies, their brains and their psyche. Access to health care and education should be a top priority, instead of ripping the rug out from under women.

Observations and studies have shown, time and time again, access to gynecological care and affordable birth control greatly reduces the incidence of unintended pregnancy and abortions.

Give women the power to make their own decisions about their bodies, you give them the power to make decisions about their entire lives.

And if that scares you, crawl under the rock where you belong. Otherwise, join hands, and let’s continue to fight and work for equality and autonomy for over half the world’s population.

If you stuck with me through all that, I thank you. I understand that this is a complicated subject, and I respect those opinions that vary from mine. However, the point I cannot step away from is forcing a woman to pregnant against her will. This is what I feel strongly about and is the basis for my entire argument to preserve a woman’s right to choose.

Please know that I welcome your thoughts, both opposing and in support.

In the meantime…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven