Word Up

Words are powerful. Words are meaningful. Words cause me to make note of people, whether it's because they've said something interesting or because they've said something intensely stupid. Words are generational. The meaning of words can change, ebb and flow. Words can hurt. Words can empower.

Words are amazing.

Miles like to watch shows on YOUTUBE and he's forever calling up show's I've forgotten, such as this weekend it was FIREMAN SAM. It's sort of a silly show about a small island with one child who must be taught the boy who cries wolf story every single week. But Miles seems to like it. This weekend, Julia discovered it and sat to watch several episodes.

I've never really put a lot of consideration or worry into titles with gender qualification. FIREMAN is what we said when I was little. I don't believe it means you have to be a MAN. The name of the show is exactly FIREMAN SAM because it's an older show.

What amazed me, interested me was Julia who told me she was watching Firefighter Sam.

Now we've all said firefighter in the world for a long time. I KNOW women who are firefighters and I don't think twice about that word either. I am sure it's meaningful to the women who do that job, but for me I guess I've always been rather neutral.

We sat and talked about firefighters. Do firefighters do this, do firefighters do that? Can I be  a firefighter? Why are only boys firefighters on that show? I'm going to be a firefighter.

That's when it hit me. She has never lived in a world where fireMAN was a thing. The word fireMAN didn't register with her even. It's firefighter. It's gender neutral. She recognized it was off that there were only boys being firefighters. She doesn't live in a world where that makes sense.

It made me really happy.

I am just not sure she can wear that crown with her bunker gear...

Word Up

Words are powerful. Words are meaningful. Words cause me to make note of people, whether it's because they've said something interesting or because they've said something intensely stupid. Words are generational. The meaning of words can change, ebb and flow. Words can hurt. Words can empower.

Words are amazing.

Miles like to watch shows on YOUTUBE and he's forever calling up show's I've forgotten, such as this weekend it was FIREMAN SAM. It's sort of a silly show about a small island with one child who must be taught the boy who cries wolf story every single week. But Miles seems to like it. This weekend, Julia discovered it and sat to watch several episodes.

I've never really put a lot of consideration or worry into titles with gender qualification. FIREMAN is what we said when I was little. I don't believe it means you have to be a MAN. The name of the show is exactly FIREMAN SAM because it's an older show.

What amazed me, interested me was Julia who told me she was watching Firefighter Sam.

Now we've all said firefighter in the world for a long time. I KNOW women who are firefighters and I don't think twice about that word either. I am sure it's meaningful to the women who do that job, but for me I guess I've always been rather neutral.

We sat and talked about firefighters. Do firefighters do this, do firefighters do that? Can I be  a firefighter? Why are only boys firefighters on that show? I'm going to be a firefighter.

That's when it hit me. She has never lived in a world where fireMAN was a thing. The word fireMAN didn't register with her even. It's firefighter. It's gender neutral. She recognized it was off that there were only boys being firefighters. She doesn't live in a world where that makes sense.

It made me really happy.

I am just not sure she can wear that crown with her bunker gear...

Look At Poor Barbie...

The girl was playing with her Barbies at the hearth yesterday, playing something with Hamm and her dollhouse and there seemed to be goings on having to do with sharing and having good manners and there was possibly a picnic happening.

I was sitting on the sofa, swirling in a cloud of sick and Contac watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse because the remote was so far away, when she came over to me with a concerned look and Barbie in her hand.

"Mommy, how can Barbie be happy?" she asked.

I was thinking of the tee shirt from the 90s "because the bitch has everything" as a valid response but refrained as she's only five. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at poor Barbie, look at her tummy it can't ever be big. She can't ever have babies. How can she be happy without babies?" the look of concern continued.

Now I'm sick and on a slippery parenting slope. I want to say the right things here. As a post-feminist believer and a woman I want to convey that having babies isn't the only road to happiness, that having a family is a choice women can make willingly but that women can use birth control and never have babies and be very happy because it's their life and finding fulfillment isn't only met via reproducing.

I consider all of this and decide oh god that's a lot to lay down at a five year old so instead I say "Well, does Barbie WANT babies?"

She answers "Look all she has is a pig, who can be happy with that? Mommy her tummy will never be soft for cuddles, it's terrible."

I decide to gear up for a positive role model type of speech when she says "I know, Snow White can be her baby! PERFECT!" and runs off. She returns with Snow White and Aurora and says "TWINS!" and then proceeds to play.

Well I probably missed a moment but I guess in a way I'm flattered that she thinks that having a soft tummy and being a mommy equals happy. I guess it means I portray both of these things in a positive light.

I either missed a parenting moment there or made too much of a passing fancy, or somewhere in between. I'm sick it's not my fault.
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Look At Poor Barbie...

The girl was playing with her Barbies at the hearth yesterday, playing something with Hamm and her dollhouse and there seemed to be goings on having to do with sharing and having good manners and there was possibly a picnic happening.

I was sitting on the sofa, swirling in a cloud of sick and Contac watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse because the remote was so far away, when she came over to me with a concerned look and Barbie in her hand.

"Mommy, how can Barbie be happy?" she asked.

I was thinking of the tee shirt from the 90s "because the bitch has everything" as a valid response but refrained as she's only five. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at poor Barbie, look at her tummy it can't ever be big. She can't ever have babies. How can she be happy without babies?" the look of concern continued.

Now I'm sick and on a slippery parenting slope. I want to say the right things here. As a post-feminist believer and a woman I want to convey that having babies isn't the only road to happiness, that having a family is a choice women can make willingly but that women can use birth control and never have babies and be very happy because it's their life and finding fulfillment isn't only met via reproducing.

I consider all of this and decide oh god that's a lot to lay down at a five year old so instead I say "Well, does Barbie WANT babies?"

She answers "Look all she has is a pig, who can be happy with that? Mommy her tummy will never be soft for cuddles, it's terrible."

I decide to gear up for a positive role model type of speech when she says "I know, Snow White can be her baby! PERFECT!" and runs off. She returns with Snow White and Aurora and says "TWINS!" and then proceeds to play.

Well I probably missed a moment but I guess in a way I'm flattered that she thinks that having a soft tummy and being a mommy equals happy. I guess it means I portray both of these things in a positive light.

I either missed a parenting moment there or made too much of a passing fancy, or somewhere in between. I'm sick it's not my fault.
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Here Mommy, Now You Wear This Snake

Girls are weird. My daughter said these words to me yesterday as she wrapped a toy snake around me like a feather boa. They're far weirder than boys I've decided. I'm pretty girly and girls baffle me.

I wore Hello Kitty barrettes to an executive meeting the other day. I don't think that makes me a WOMAN CHILD but rather it simply means that by the rules of post feminism I can be whomever I want. I'm 43. I'm NOT OLD.

I am, though, exactly old enough to remember that there used to be a place on forms that asked when your last menstrual cycle was, when you were applying for a job. They weren't allowed to ASK you any more. That was illegal. But it was still on the forms in some places, a reminder that your mother's life was different from yours in ways that were unfathomable.

And now I have a daughter.

She has a purse in which she puts pieces from a train and matchbox cars. She likes books and dolls and playing with toy kitchens.



She will never live in a world where those forms exist. She isn't being raised to think of girl toys and boy toys, they're just toys. My own mother raised me like this, she was very forward thinking. I'm just the norm.

She's also tough. She's strong willed, outspoken, raging through the terrible twos as she discovers that no, in fact every thing is NOT Hers no matter how much she sobs. She is me born 40 years later. But she's also her own person in so many ways it's overwhelming. She's like her brother in her empathy and kindness. This morning as I pinned my sweaty hair up out of my face she put her hand on my hip and looked up and said "Oh you're beautiful Mommy."

Despite the lessons she is learning of the TERRIBLE TWOS and despite the crazy words I hear being spouted by the Fundies by their never ending war on female rights, I look at this amazing girl and I think, she was born at such a lucky time.


Perhaps I am an optimist. But I do think, that despite all the things I teach her that everything is not hers, quite the opposite is true.

She's got the whole world. And she can do anything.

Here Mommy, Now You Wear This Snake

Girls are weird. My daughter said these words to me yesterday as she wrapped a toy snake around me like a feather boa. They're far weirder than boys I've decided. I'm pretty girly and girls baffle me.

I wore Hello Kitty barrettes to an executive meeting the other day. I don't think that makes me a WOMAN CHILD but rather it simply means that by the rules of post feminism I can be whomever I want. I'm 43. I'm NOT OLD.

I am, though, exactly old enough to remember that there used to be a place on forms that asked when your last menstrual cycle was, when you were applying for a job. They weren't allowed to ASK you any more. That was illegal. But it was still on the forms in some places, a reminder that your mother's life was different from yours in ways that were unfathomable.

And now I have a daughter.

She has a purse in which she puts pieces from a train and matchbox cars. She likes books and dolls and playing with toy kitchens.



She will never live in a world where those forms exist. She isn't being raised to think of girl toys and boy toys, they're just toys. My own mother raised me like this, she was very forward thinking. I'm just the norm.

She's also tough. She's strong willed, outspoken, raging through the terrible twos as she discovers that no, in fact every thing is NOT Hers no matter how much she sobs. She is me born 40 years later. But she's also her own person in so many ways it's overwhelming. She's like her brother in her empathy and kindness. This morning as I pinned my sweaty hair up out of my face she put her hand on my hip and looked up and said "Oh you're beautiful Mommy."

Despite the lessons she is learning of the TERRIBLE TWOS and despite the crazy words I hear being spouted by the Fundies by their never ending war on female rights, I look at this amazing girl and I think, she was born at such a lucky time.


Perhaps I am an optimist. But I do think, that despite all the things I teach her that everything is not hers, quite the opposite is true.

She's got the whole world. And she can do anything.