Resolution Check In - 2017

Each year, I check back on the resolutions I made the previous year to see how well I've done. I only look at these things twice a year. Once when I make them, and once when I check them, 12 months later. It's interesting to see what my goals were and whether or not I made it.

10) Drink 5 glasses of water a day.

0. This year I felt like fuck water, I guess. I'll try again, but I think I'll go back down to 4 glasses a day. That's more reasonable for me.

9) Go to the gym and/or run consistently 3-4 times a week.

1. I actually did do this enough to count it. There were weeks when I did nothing, sure, but also weeks where I ran, biked or went to the gym every darn day. It would average out to 3-4 times a week, I'm sure of it.

8) Stop biting my nails

0. I mean. I just can never do this apparently.

7) Do something actionable and politically motivated every single week.

1. I did a lot of activism this year. A LOT. But there were weeks and even months where I did nothing. I just couldn't. Then again, there were weeks and months where I did something every day. I feel like averaging again, I'd come out with at least a thing per week. I put a lot of effort into this one, so I'm counting it as done.

6) Read 15 books. Journal 250 times.

0. I read like 4 books MAYBE, and I didn't journal at all because LiveJournal was eaten by Russia.

5) Make $55,000-$60,000.

This is a stretch for sure. I'd be happy with $50,000. <-- I said that when making the resolution.

1. I made $66,000 this year.

4) Publish 100 pieces.

0. I only published 40 pieces this year. I decided to teach instead.

3) Teach at least six classes this year.

1. I taught 10 classes this year, and I developed two more.

2) Publish my thesis.

0. LOLOLOL I really REALLY do not want to do this. Like at all. And I really REALLY should.

1) Save another $5,000 for each of my kids for their college education.

1. I saved $7,000 each for them this year.



Wow, 5 out of 10. That might actually be a record. I hardly ever keep resolutions! Also, I feel like I deserve a bonus point because even though it wasn't on my resolutions list, this is the year I for real quit smoking. Seven months and counting, anyway. That sucked and it was hard.


For my kids and I, I resolve the following:

5) Get them to stop fighting all the time.

0. Fighting is one of their favorite games.

4) Make them do math and reading every day for at least a short while.

.5. I did pretty well with this, though I did let vacations and weekends slide sometimes.

3) Get them into an activity other than Capoeira to expand their horizons a bit.

1. Um, they are in after-school instead, which isn't necessarily expanding their horizons, but we did a billion different summer camps this year, from museums, to engineering, to gymnastics, and a whole bunch more. We're trying.

2) Play a game with them every day.

0. I want to try this again. I really want to do this, but time keeps slipping away!

1) Have them do chores every day.

.5. Chores were mostly used in terms of discipline this year, though they did do A LOT of them. I want them to get used to having to do something small every day just because we are people and that is what we have to do.


Hmm, 2 out of 5. That's not super great, but at least it's something. I have a feeling a lot of my resolutions this year will be repeats, lol.

Resolution Check-In: 2016

Each year, I check back on the resolutions I made the previous year to see how well I've done. I only look at these things twice a year. Once when I make them, and once when I check them, 12 months later. It's interesting to see what my goals were and whether or not I made it.



10) Drink four glasses of water a day.

I mostly did this, but slacked off during October and November as the entire world went to shit.

.5

9) Do some form of exercise every day.

I was doing really well with this until summer when I got more work, and then the election happened, and I'm only just now getting back on the train, and it's not everyday, for sure.

0

8) Read and journal every day.

I was rocking this, truly. Then October and November happened. I didn't journal once then, and I didn't read any books. But, the year total is 212 journal entries and 11 books read. That's more than half.

.5

7) Take care of myself in some way every day.

HAHAHAHA

0

6) Stop smoking.

.5

5) Stop biting my nails.

0

4) Make $40,000 this year.

I made $48,000 this year.

1

3) Publish 100 pieces.

Only 65. I slacked because I wasn't prepared for how much work creating online lectures and teaching online and in-person would be.

0

2) Get some sort of big project off the ground.

So, I'm going to give this a point. I'm not sure if I did this right or made any difference, but the push of this resolution was to be open about it, and do something big somehow that moved me out of my comfort zone.

I honestly think the activism I started on November 9th could count here. I'm putting all my resources into it, and trying to bring others along. I'm showing up in person to events and planning meetings. I'm doing more than writing about it. I'm writing to people, calling them, giving all my extra money to it. I think this counts. I know I've certainly never done it before, and God do I wish I had.

1

1) Save $5,000 for each of my kids to start the college fund.

DONE. Amazingly. And I had totally forgotten I'd made this resolution, lol.

1


TOTAL: 4.5 out of 10. Better than usual, actually.




And I make five resolutions specifically with regard to my children each year. This year, I resolve the following:

5) To keep with the scheduling and strike system.

I did a pretty good job with this. We fell out of it sometimes, when we got super busy, but on the whole, we were consistent. I also started us in play therapy to help me more than them so that I didn't get so overwhelmed and we didn't get into a negative attention feedback loop. Things are going pretty strongly here.

1

4) Help them study.

I tried really hard on this. Carlos started helping, too, because it turns out I am just a HORRIBLE elementary school teacher. I make them do homework every day, I sit with them and answer the questions, I give them pep talks and guide them through the work when they're being stubborn. It's been hard, and will continue to be hard.

1

3) Have them read every day.

I did not make them read on the weekends, and I only make them read sporadically on vacation, but every school day, they've been reading. And that's HARD for all of us, actually.

.5

2) Get them to stop competing and fighting so viciously.

Fail. But I have faith for this year.

0

1) Play a game with them every day.

I tried hard on this one, too, but I got busy and playing with them is difficult sometimes because they compete for attention. Still, I managed a more than 50 percent ratio, so I'll give it a .5

.5


3 out of 5. Better than last year, anyway.

Halloween 2016

Another Halloween come and gone. So many people had such amazing costumes this year!

We simply went trick or treating around our neighborhood, then out for dinner, and it was really great.

My husband dressed up for the first time ever (not at the restaurant, though, boo).

Happy Halloween to everyone else!

I went as "Hillary's Listening to Men Face"

My husband and kids were a clown, a vampire, and a pirate. I have the best family.

That little vampire does smile, I promise! She's just in character!

My kids at the first trick or treating event.

Dulce as a clown.

Natalina as a vampire.

So this is 33

I was going to make a list of presents a newly 33-year-old mother of six-year-old twins would actually want for her birthday, since presents are nice and all, but these days usually aren't what I really need.

But I got it all. Seriously.

Yesterday was my birthday, and yesterday:

- The garbage disposal was fixed and the sink unclogged. Huzzah! No more hand washing precariously in one side of the sink while increasing grossness built up no matter what I did on the other side! No more scraping food scraps and uneaten, soggy cereal into a bag and putting it out to roast in the Florida sun inside a black trash bin.

- I wrote a 1,200-word piece for the print edition of the Washington Post. One of my favorite things is being in real print.

- Speaking of, I picked up two copies of Backpacker Magazine Jul/Aug 2015, where an as-told-to survival story I wrote is on page 49. My first national glossy! Yay!

- I had a science story publish in another awesome magazine. One I had been trying to sell for a while.

- My husband came home from work with glittery wrapping paper, a cake, and a mini-bottle of champagne to celebrate.

- My kids and husband threw me the best party. They wrapped one gift each (pearls!, a Calvin Klein purse!, a hair styling gift certificate!). They sang me happy birthday. They ate cake with me.

- The girls did not fight or cry or whine or be annoying once during the whole thing!!!!!

- The girls, while they were supposed to be getting ready for bed, made me a PINATA, out of paper, tape, and some Hershey's Kisses, had their daddy hold it, and let me whack it with a sword...and IT WORKED.



Anyway, last year, on my 32nd birthday, I was going viral for an essay I wrote for the Washington Post. My first ever for a paid publication. I was giving interviews, and fielding phone calls, and trying to hold on as my life took a sharp--radically sharp--right turn from where it had been heading.

I'm still on that path, and so far, so good. It's been a phenomenal year, and this one will be too.

What do you picture when you think of an autistic child? You're wrong. -- Guest post

What do you imagine when you picture a child with autism?

I can tell you what I imagined.

A child who is antisocial. A child who refuses to make eye contact. A child who is withdrawn, sullen, disconnected, unaffectionate, devoid of empathy.

Which was why my first reaction when that word was brought up in relation to my daughter was to scoff. Autism? Juliette? Really?!

But she’s….so social!

And she is. From the moment she was born, that girl has radiated sunshine. People used to comment everywhere we went that she was just so happy. She was always smiling. She loved people. Not only was her personality bright, but so was her mind. She was inquisitive. She was magnetic. Well, she was just plain brilliant, in so many ways.

She was NOTHING like that image I had in my head of an autistic child.

Most people, before they have a loved one with autism, have that same image of the withdrawn autistic child in their minds. Sadly, many health professionals do as well. That image is the biggest roadblock getting in the way of autistic children gaining the proper diagnosis and support. I can’t even tell you how many times I have heard parents recounting stories of how they went to their doctor, concerned about their child’s development, only to be waved away and told their child couldn’t possibly have autism because he/she “made eye contact” or appears to be “too social.” Some parents are satisfied with that response, and the child continues to struggle through life without help. Some parents continue to fight for YEARS before finally getting their child diagnosed and accessing supports and resources. We were very lucky that we found a wonderful psychologist who easily diagnosed Juliette, then Lennon, and then myself. All of us make eye contact and are quote-unquote “social,” by the way. Not one of us looks anything like that image you’ve got in your head.

Look. That image….it simply doesn’t exist in real life. That autistic kid who is completely in his own world, refusing to look anyone in the eyes under any circumstances…..doesn’t exist. At least, I’ve never met him. And I’ve met my fair share of autistic children, on both ends of the spectrum. Beautiful, bright, curious, magnetic, sensitive, funny, and gosh-darn adorable autistic kids who are literally the direct opposite of what I had imagined. They are completely “normal” looking children who are so full of life, only their brains are just wired a bit differently.

When my son, Lennon was a baby, I knew he was different right away. He was the most wide awake, alert newborn I had ever seen. He cried a lot, and he almost never slept. He seemed unable to shut his brain off. His eyes were always wide open, taking everything in. He hit all his developmental milestones early, especially speaking. He talked like a miniature adult, and he was so incredibly intelligent. He was a challenging child in many ways. He was very strong-willed. He knew what he wanted, and he did not respond well to being told “no.” When he set a goal, he would never give up. He had traits that we admire in adults, but are challenging to deal with in children.

Somewhere along the way, in my obsessive searching for answers as to why my child was so different, I came across the terms “high needs child” and “spirited child.” He is both of those things, but it would be six years before I would realize that he is also a child who has Asperger’s. When he was a toddler, I got the book “Raising Your Spirited Child,” and the author describes spirited children as being “MORE.” More intense, sensitive, perceptive, persistent, and energetic than a typical child. What a perfect description! While the book isn’t about autistic children directly, many children on the spectrum would definitely fall into the category of spirited as well. Lennon is, and always has been, more. He may be small in stature, but he is larger than life in personality.

Let’s go back to the image of the autistic child in your head. Picture him. Do you think of that child as being MORE? Or LESS?

I am telling you….forget about that image, because that child doesn’t exist.

Also, forget about the eye contact thing. It should be taken out of the equation, as far as I’m concerned. Yes, some people with autism struggle with direct eye contact (usually more often in unfamiliar situations with unfamiliar people. Most find eye contact easier at home, with their families). However, it is just one of MANY factors to be considered when diagnosing a child. A child can have flawless eye contact and still be very much autistic. And yet, somehow, we have chosen to latch onto this one small trait as THE definitive trait of autism. If a child makes brief eye contact at a doctor’s appointment, they are immediately dismissed from the spectrum? C’mon, people, we can do better than this. We are failing our children because we can’t get over that stereotypical image of the sullen, autistic child with the downcast eyes; the child who is somehow “less” than other children. We imagine that they are less social, less connected, less emotional, less intelligent, and less empathetic. We need to consider that we may have this all backward. These are kids who experience everything more intensely: sensory information, emotions, empathy. Their nervous systems are more fragile, and they are much more easily overwhelmed. Because they are MORE, they have more needs and require more support.

Most importantly, they are human beings. They are individuals. Generalizing all autistic people as antisocial is doing them a big disservice. There are introverted and extroverted autistic people. There is as much variation among autistic people as there is among neurotypical people. I see this firsthand with my children. Lennon and Juliette are both diagnosed with autism, yet they are so different from each other. They each have their own unique strengths and challenges. Lennon has impressive verbal skills, and he is very driven to achieve his goals, but he sometimes has trouble going with the flow. Juliette struggles more with communication, but she is more adaptable to change and more conventionally “social.” Again, neither of them is anything like what I imagined an autistic child would be like. That was the hardest thing for me to wrap my head around when Juliette was diagnosed. She just didn’t SEEM autistic to me.

But then I realized, I had been wrong all along about what autism looks like. I’ve learned to replace the incorrect image in my head with images like this, of my beautiful, creative, smart, kind, loving, and MORE children.

 ...

"Amber Appleton Torres" is a stay at home mother of three, the eldest two of whom are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. After their diagnoses, she realized she is on the spectrum as well, and got her own Asperger's diagnosis. She blogs about her family's journey athttps://onebigaspiefamily.wordpress.com/

Finding the new normal -- Guest post

It was a year ago at the beginning of April that Tom moved out. It's been a full cycle - summer, fall, winter, spring and back to summer. A year of holidays done differently. A year of school: Tai graduated kindergarten and is just four days short of finished with first grade, and Miriam started preschool and is almost through her first year. In this year, I've learned at least as much as the kids. Some lessons were obvious, others less so.

1) I learned that I don't have to ask permission. I adopted two cats, because I wanted to. I didn't have to make a case, I didn't have to prove anything. I have begun to make the house my own - to decorate in ways that please me, and to figure out what pleases me.

2) I learned I could do what needed to be done, even when it felt impossible. I've made it through several rounds of stomach flu with the kids without dissolving into a puddle. I even managed to hold back hair and rub backs. For an emetophobe, someone who would have a panic attack at the thought of getting sick, this was huge.

3) I learned I needed to take time to figure out who I am, on my own - to become an 'I' rather than half of a 'we'. I went on a few dates, met some interesting women who I enjoyed hanging out with - but realized quickly that I wasn't really ready yet. I haven't been on my own in more than twenty years.

 
4) I am learning what I want in my next relationship, and what I deserve. Someone who enjoys some of what I enjoy, who will go to concerts and musicals and the symphony and the opera and museums. Someone who doesn't hold me in contempt. Someone who is a partner.

5) I learned that I enjoy working out of the house. I've been a stay-at-home mom ever since I was pregnant with Tai. I hadn't realized I missed having a job until I went back to work. I feel like my days have a new structure, and I love stretching my brain in new ways.

6) I learned that I am the one. I make the rules, I enforce the rules. With the kids, and for myself. Not always a positive, but a part of the growing-up that I'm doing.

7) I learned that I'm grieving the loss of what I imagined I had, or imagined I could have, with Tom more than what I really had. 

 
8) I learned that I don't want to go backwards. I have never regretted the decision to separate from Tom, at least, not for myself. Even when I found out he was dating, when he began having sleepovers with the kids and the girlfriend, I never wanted to get back together with him.

9) I learned that I am okay alone. Even when I'm grieving, even when I am sad or scared or lonely, I can sit with that and it passes, and I am okay.

10) I learned that I am tired of keeping my life small and circumscribed by fear. I am ready to have a bigger life. To be who I am, in all of my messiness.

It has been 14 months since Tom moved out, since the kids have been traveling between our two houses. We've learned and we have found our own routine. We have made a new normal.

...

Aubrey Harmon is a mother and writer who blogs at World Split Open.

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one -- Guest Post

I was a weird kid.

A shy kid. A sensitive kid.

A dreamer.

I knew instinctively, from early childhood on, that I was somehow different from nearly everyone around me. I was perplexed by people, and they, in turn, seemed somewhat perplexed by me.

I was fascinated by them, though. I watched them constantly, everywhere I went. I watched them walking around, making small talk with each other as they passed. I watched their gestures, their easy, spontaneous laughter. I studied their faces, picking apart their features, observing the way they smiled and the way their eyes danced while they talked to each other, sharing some small momentary connection with one another. They were beautiful creatures.

But I wasn’t one of them.

Why?

I didn’t know. But I was somehow certain of it.

I made a conscious decision to become one of them. Surely I could do that if I really tried. I was smart enough, and I knew it. I could figure this out with sheer willpower and brain power.

One of the first things I realized by my observations is that people didn’t like smart, though. At least not in girls. My brother was smart and he was practically worshipped. I was three years younger, painfully shy and awkward, and I wanted what he had: an easy air of confidence and the respect and admiration of everyone around him. He deserved it; he was awesome! I wanted it too, and was determined to get it.

Good grades came effortlessly to me. I loved standardized testing days, and looked forward to them all year. School was fairly boring – even with gifted/talented classes – but it gave me plenty of time to observe my peers and try my damnedest to emulate their behaviors. Somehow, though, I always fell short. I still replay my childhood social errors in my head, over and over, and berate myself for being “so stupid.” I had a hard time reconciling the fact that I could be simultaneously intelligent and stupid. And it seemed that people disapproved of me if I displayed either trait. I yearned to be average, yet I liked being smart, because it made me feel competent in a world that was confusing and overwhelming. However, the smarter I appeared, the less people liked me. Well, the teachers liked me….the children, not so much. I made a few good friends over the years who accepted me, guided me, and even came to appreciate my weirdness. The rest of the kids, by and large, treated me with a mixture of mild curiosity and contempt. They called me things like “bookworm,” “geek,” and “schoolie.” They teased me for being horrifically inept at all things phys ed-related, for being “gullible,” and for the way I used to bite my nails and the skin on my fingertips until they were raw and bloody.

I kept trying though. Oh, lord, did I try to fit in. I’d choose a girl I admired – a cool, confident girl – and try to become her. I’d emulate everything from her clothing to her mannerisms and speech. I made an effort to tone down my use of big words while speaking to peers. It was almost physically painful to do so. In class, I knew just about every answer to the teacher’s questions, but I made a “rule” for myself: I could only raise my hand for every 6th question. I spent my school days sitting at my desk, daydreaming, humming tunes to myself, watching kids and counting questions, sitting on my hand to avoid it automatically shooting into the air with each of the teacher’s queries.

I had the typical “pedantic speech” of a child with Asperger’s Syndrome, a true “little professor.” At age one, I could speak in full sentences, yet I did not walk until 17 months. My mother said she thought I could have walked earlier, but I just too stubborn and scared to try (yep, that sounds about right). Even as a baby, I was not comfortable with change or trying new things. I ate basically NOTHING, which was a major source of contention in our family throughout my childhood. I knew that my “picky” eating habits (which I now know is actually an eating disorder called Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder) were causing my parents to tear their hair out. I was also keenly aware that my entire extended family was raising their collective eyebrows and wondering why my parents weren’t force-feeding me ham or the assortment of terrifying, mayonnaise-laden salads at holiday parties. I wanted to please my family so much, but it wasn’t enough to make me overcome my significant sensory issues and try new foods. Still, to this day, my diet is quite limited. I basically survive on assorted cheeses. My eating habits have only improved marginally since I was that little girl feeling disapproval every time I couldn’t eat what was served for dinner.

My childhood wasn’t all bad. In fact, in many ways, it was great. I may have been different, but I was definitely loved. My parents were unknowingly doing all the right things: consistency, schedules, and routines were big in my family. My social life may have been tumultuous, but I had stability and support at home. Dinner was at 5:00 pm sharp every single day. My mother was a stay-at-home mom, and kept a nice, tidy home. She and I were close. I think she was unsure how to handle my intense sensitivity and frequent emotional outbursts, but she understood me in a way that no one else could. I think she is somewhat of a “dreamer” herself.

Things completely fell apart when my parents got divorced, right at the time I was approaching adolescence, when the social stakes get higher. I needed support more than ever before, and there was none to be found. I’m not sure I would have made it through middle school without the help of a very supportive guidance counselor. I felt….simply lost. I didn’t know exactly who I was yet, but I knew without a doubt that I was a failure. A defective person. I had tried SO HARD to be like everyone else, and I had failed. Effort and intellect weren’t enough.

It all came to a head at age 14, when I made the decision I had been seriously considering for four years. I decided to kill myself.

I rummaged through our medicine cabinet and found several bottles of prescription pills. One said in bold capital letters: “DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL.” “Perfect,” I thought, as I raided the liquor cabinet, took out my mom’s signature bottle of store-brand Light Vodka, and mixed it with orange soda pop. I brought all my supplies up to my room, and shook the pills out into three neat piles on the white dresser that used to reside in my pepto-pink little girl bedroom, but was now in a run-down house owned by my mom’s second husband.

Before I started popping the pills in groups of threes and washing them down with swigs of my vodka drink, I set my alarm clock for 6:30 AM. I thought that if this suicide attempt didn’t work, I’d better be prepared to get up and go to school in the morning, just like any other weekday. As silly as that action sounds….it saved my life. The next morning, my brother heard my alarm blaring incessantly and found me in bed, unconscious. The doctors later told my mom that if I hadn’t been found when I was, I wouldn’t have made it. Thank goodness for my compulsion for routines!

I’ve come a long, long way since that incident. That was my darkest moment, and although there were many other dark times in my life after that, they paled in comparison to that singular act of complete desperation and despair at age 14. Still, I didn’t quite find myself until I was 32…

You see, I’d had a daughter, and she was like me. She was different too.

She was a weird kid.

A sensitive kid.

A dreamer.

Her eyes shone bright like sunbeams. She was different, yes, but in a magnificent, magical way. And I saw myself in her.

I found myself through her.

We dream together now.

...

"Amber Appleton Torres" is a stay at home mother of three, the eldest two of whom are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. After their diagnoses, she realized she is on the spectrum as well, and got her own Asperger's diagnosis. She blogs about her family's journey at https://onebigaspiefamily.wordpress.com/

What's in a name? -- Guest post

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;
...
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O! be some other name:
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.


~ Juliet Capulet, Romeo and Juliet,
Act 2, Scene 2, lines 37-38; 42-53,
William Shakespeare.

She makes a good argument for it, doesn't she? You love someone, and it's a reasonable thing to ask them to surrender their name for you. Their name, that carries with it their history and sense of family honour. It's easy to say that when your two families are at war, and you'd give anything to see their bloodline extinguished anyway. Harder, when it's just the ordinary decision of whether or not to change one's name upon marrying, as I am currently debating.



Those of you who know your Shakespeare may have noticed the lines I deliberately omitted earlier:

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
(Ibid, lines 38-40, emphasis mine)

so there's no dispute that she intends this to be a mutual surrendering, although it is interesting that she spends seven times the length of those lines asking him to change his.

So, if Shakespeare is relevant today, is it valid to ask our men to change their names for us? I am hoping it is.

In my particular case, I have a sister but no brothers, no uncles on my Dad's side, my Grandfather is long deceased, and my Dad can't even remember the last time he saw or spoke to his male cousin (whom, I believe, had only daughters anyway). So, in the ordinary course of events, my Dad's surname will be extinguished after this generation, and there will be no one who was close to either him or my Grandfather who will be able to carry it on.

That being said, why shouldn't there be? It is entirely a cultural matter that us ladies surrender our family name and heritage, when our men do not have to do likewise, but, culture can be changed. At least, I personally do not consider cultural reasons by themselves to be enough to continue a tradition, especially one I don't agree with.

And I don't agree with it. I side with Juliet on this issue.

To lay out all of our options:

1) The traditional route, I surrender my name and family history and honour, and take on that of my beloved as if I belonged TO him (rather than, WITH him). The fact that for me, this is socially a climb-down, and I would be surrendering a surname from the English aristocracy for an American one that... isn't, also makes that suggestion unpalatable to me (although I concede that maybe it shouldn't).

2) What's good for the goose is good for the gander: he completely changes his, as, in fact, Romeo himself was eager to do:

I take thee at thy word.
Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
(Ibid, lines 54-56.)

And also:

Juliet: Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Romeo: Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
(Ibid, lines 66-67.)

However, how can I, with fairness, ask my beloved to do something I am not to willing to do? No, this is not an option, not for me.

3) Nothing changes, nobody surrenders anything, we both keep our family names and heritage and just make do having to different names. In many cultures, this is still the norm. I'm not completely against the idea, but to a certain extent, I say, “Well, what's the point of getting married, then? Don't we want to look like we belong to and with each other?” For some paperwork, this actually is the way we will go. For example, I don't see any reason to pay quite a lot of money for a new passport when my current one is only a couple of years old, just because I've got married. I'll just leave it in my current name and travel under that, and then when it runs out, get a new one in my married name, but I personally think it sounds a little cold-hearted that we'd never be introduced by the same name in the flesh.

4) Use the American tradition of adding the maiden name as a second middle name, even though they then go by their husband's surname. To be honest, I can't really see the point of that. If I'm not going to continue to use my surname as my surname, why bother?

5) Hyphenate. Either one or both of us. I'd prefer both. The feminist in me is crying out, begging, that we take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove to the world that in this marriage, we really do intend to be equal partners. BOTH of us matter. Both of our families, and histories, matter too. We're BOTH changing our identities when we get married, and why shouldn't our name/s reflect that?

My beloved isn't in favour of that, for a few reasons:

a) hyphenated names (apparently) cause issue with automated forms, and such. (Eh. The technology around automated forms was designed by humans, it could therefore also be redesigned, if needed...)

b) which way around would we do it? Personally, I'm a fan of both of us just adding the other's name to the end of our current name, because that points to more equality; we're both doing the same thing. He thinks that's making things unnecessarily messy, which, I have to admit, I don't think is nearly as important as he does. Were we to pick one version over the other, there's also the aesthetics argument: which way looks/sounds better? I'd argue, mine first, because otherwise there's five consonants in a row, which makes it a bit difficult to say, and also, mine's the longer name, so it does sound better that way, but that's another (small) reason he isn't up for it.

c) He – correctly – points out that the process of changing our names will be a hassle. He forgets that I'd have that hassle either way (unless we chose option 3), and thinks we ought to avoid options that create more hassle “for the sake of it”. I think it's for the sake of him showing that he doesn't think he's better than me, but he can't quite connect the dots yet.

d) But what would we name the children?? Aren't we making life intentionally more difficult for them, especially if they then want to do the hyphenating thing themselves?? Well, for starters, we are no where near a firm decision on if there even will be any children, and if we do, by the time they get to marrying, they'll be able to make their own choices about this, but why can't we just cross that bridge when we come to it? Flip a coin or something, to see which one of our names will get passed down?

This decision feels really large to me. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to really stand up and be counted, to take a decision that will lead to multiple conversations, and maybe, in a small way, be part of changing the world! To deliberately not take it, I have to admit, does feel... cowardly. And I am not a coward. My own deep-seated family values, which half of this conversation is about, are “be kind, be brave, be fair, be loving.” Brave, and fair, is more important than cowardliness or wanting to make life easier for oneself.

I didn't create this unfair patriarchy, although given the hand I've been dealt, I do feel obliged to play my part in dismantling it.

And yet.

My beloved didn't create it either. How far is it fair to mke him fight this battle, when it's not his personal fault? I love the man, and I want him to be happy. I think that means, not continuing to pressure him about it, even when it frustrates every bone in my body.

I can only influence myself. I can take my choices on, and I will hyphenate my name. He will, in all likelihood, not change his at all, but I will hope and pray that I'm wrong about that. It feels somewhat anti-climatic, but what other choice do I have? As my beloved himself often says, “A good compromise leaves everybody mad, right?” And, of course, in the words of Juliet, our marriage will still smell sweet, regardless of what we end up calling ourselves.

...

Sarah Fountains

An accountant living in the UK, who's engaged to an accountant living in California. Currently she lodges with/housesits for/nannys for/freeloads from close friends with two extremely boisterous sons. She's been reading parenting advice in books and on the internet as a hobby since she was sixteen, and cares particularly about adoption issues; she's probably also the only voice in the feminist crowd insisting that sexism goes both ways in different circumstances. She loves dancing and sewing, fails at one but not the other, and struggles continually with things that other people refer to as "common sense." Her lifetime ambition is to be organised enough to justify baskets in the refrigerator, and has yet to meet someone who doesn't laugh at it. Most days, though, she still has laundry on the floor. Read about her international adventures at: http://marriedwiththemominlaw.blogspot.co.uk

Day in the Life - 2015

Woke up ten minutes before my alarm went off because the puppy had to go out. He then woke the girls up 15 minutes before I would have. Because puppy.

Why are we up before 6:30 a.m.?

No, seriously. Why?

The dog is very helpful when we try to get dressed.

As the girls finish getting dressed and ready, I tackle the dishes I ignored last night and make the lunches I was supposed to make last night. You know how we do.

At least they seem to like breakfast.

We drive to school because it's too cold to walk. Also because we're late getting out the door. Again. Natalina isn't looking so hot, huh?

Off they go.

I finish getting ready. I look like this.

Coffee and some work. I'm writing an article on endometriosis this morning. The dog is helping.

Can't do that too long without a break though.

The dog needed to go out again too. Oh, wait, no he didn't. He needed to play with his red bucket.

Next up, breakfast for my husband and I.

I finished that article I was writing, so I update my own blog with a guest post, and keep tabs on where else I've been published. Today it's a literary travel magazine, so that's cool.

It's Friday, which means I have to pretend I was doing grad school work all week and turn in all this stuff I haven't looked at yet. Time to listen to lectures.

After that, I get a snack. And I eat it outside. Because I live in Florida and I can.

I try to get more readings done...

But someone needs to go out...AGAIN. So I skim.

Then I do my assignments. As if I read the readings.

Lunch. And I have no regrets, haters.

Picking up the kids.

In the line for days.

Some of us are more excited than others.

There they are!

We stop at the grocery store where there's something going on that we never figure out.

Buy some Valentine's Day goodies. Because I can't just be making homemade stuff from scratch all the time and this is fine, though.

We're having a snack, and then the doorbell rings.

But it's just some guy trying to sell us meat from his van?

Lilly really wasn't looking good during snack, so I called the pediatrician and they had one opening. Right then.

Off we go.

And it's strep. Ick and eep.

 

We try to go through the drive-through but the antibiotics aren't ready yet so we go in and get some sore throat necessities.

This calls for a movie once we get home.

And second lunch for me.

Because how else was I going to get through logging all my REJECTIONS.

After that rousing inspiration, I set to work on an essay I actually sold about my grad school experience versus my mother's in 1992 (she is a real hero, to be honest. I look like a lazy sack of poo compared to her, for real.)

Just kidding about that essay, though. We have a real need to play match instead. Right now.

Time for dinner and I'm not cooking tonight, so the well child and I head off to Boston Market. She's a real comedian. Into the back seat with you, missy.

Blessed dinner.

Followed by blessed wine.

Dishes. WHY.

Oh. Look who needs to go out again. It's okay. I didn't want to do those dishes.

But I did. I did do them.

Bed time for the girls. Sickie is already feeling better with the first dose of abx.

I should finish the essay I started earlier, but I am too tired. Early bedtime for me tonight. Do it again tomorrow.

I do these every year, and most times people do them with me. This year we have:

Brooke in Tijuana

Debby in Connecticut

Kristen to come


And if you wanted to see days in my previous lives, here they are lined up. Things change and they don't. You know, you know.

2014

2013 - This one is missing some of the pictures; I don't know what happened. But there are still plenty.

2012

2011