I have real kids now

Okay, so I've always had real kids, but around 7:30 a.m. today, this happened:

I had signed them up for soccer this season last spring. And last week I found out that soccer starts at 8 a.m. on Saturdays. Because, you know, THAT'S what I need. Still, I set my alarm (AGAIN) and dragged everyone up at 7:15. I was sure I had made a huge error.

Then this happened:

And I started feeling a little better. They started practice and my heart sunk to see that there was only one other girl on the team other than mine. And moreover, there were only two or three girls on every team of 10. Florida.

When my husband joined us a little after 9 a.m. for the game, he actually got lost. He went to the right field, scanned the players, and decided it was a boys' league and we must be somewhere else. Welp.

Represent, ladies.

Anyway, they had a great time, and soccer was really good for them because every time they tried to bullshit and whine, the whistle would blow and coaches don't give no shit if your shirt is a tiny bit wrinkled or you only had two cheezits when your sister had three. Time to play.

For me, a firm soccer player in my day,  I found myself getting pretty nostalgic. Something about watching a bunch of little kids scrambling around the field in a big beehive around the ball made me feel like a kind of sort of real mom. It's like a glimpse into the big kid world I totally want to break into. I hope we get there soon.




 

There Are No Ten Best Things About Having Boys, Sorry

Dina Relles posted recently on ScaryMommy, who has a huge platform, listing out ten reasons boys are great! Which would be fine, except for that's not what the post was. The post was a blatant, horrid social comparison piece between girls and boys, in which (in the blogger's world) boys emerged as the clear winners. She even starts by saying "gender stuff" is real.

So to her, I say, before you get any legos stuck up in your Batman undies which could also get in a bunch, let's just talk about whether or not "this gender stuff is real." Because it's not.

I mean sure, you throw us a quick sentence link about how not all boys blah and not all girls blah, and then you go on to show how incredibly unique and awesome boys are while painting all girls into one docile, pink corner with your Star Wars laser brush. Come on, now.

In terms of the odd sentences you've heard about boys:

"I only want girls, because boys always leave their mothers."
"I don’t want to have a third, because I don’t want three boys."
"We want to find out what we’re having because we just want to make sure it’s not a boy."

Well, I've never in my life heard those things. Of course, that may be because I have all girls. And I can assure you, those of us with girls get the same darn thing. Oh, and let's talk about those of us with twins. Just take a moment to imagine the kind of talk that goes on about having twins. Okay, good.

Now, I have a little secret of my own: It's freaking fun to raise...kids. KIDS. Boys, girls, whatever, doesn't matter because they are individuals! So, onto your list:

1) The toys are cooler. False. The toys that marketers deem boy toys may be cooler if that's what your child is into. I know plenty of adorable five-year-old boys who love to dress up as princesses and play in the toy kitchen. Princesses might not be real, but fancy clothing sure is, and so is food. Also, trucks and ambulances and buses and whatever aren't just for boys, dude. This has been making the rounds forever, since it's, you know, 2014, and the message is correct and clear:

2) Getting out of the house is easier. You mention shoes, and barrettes, and tights and braids, in comparison to your pants / shirt combo. But there are boys who have mohawks, and boys who have long hair, and boys who do actually care about what they wear. On the other hand  you have my girls:

No barrettes, or braids, or shoes, or even matching clothes. And no effs given.

3) Public restrooms. Here you say "enough said," but actually, that's not enough for me. I have no idea how public restrooms are more awesome for boys than girls. First off, they're totally grosser. Little guy might not have to sit on a seat, but what are the odds that puddle he just stepped in is water? Also, when girls are little and need their moms to take them to the restroom, we don't have to deal with shady people being stupid about whether or not we bring a boy into the ladies' room. (Which is ridiculous and shouldn't happen, and yet it still does.) Anyway, point being, kids of a certain age know how to use a restroom and not to touch anything and everything should be fine, regardless of men's or ladies'.

4) Even if they're all the same sex, they're NOT all the same. Correct. I know this is shocking, but this is true for girls, too. My girls have as much energy as any kids I've ever seen, and I've, for years, said boys will be boys? Nah. Kids will be kids.

5) It’s good to parent someone who’s not like you. "It’s a healthy challenge to raise someone different than you. To try to relate. To understand where they’re coming from. Having two girls gets me out of my comfort zone, and out of my head, to embrace a more physical, tactile approach to the world. And notice things I normally wouldn’t. Like the shape of the rocks near the shoreline. Or the number of red pick-up trucks we pass on a drive up the Turnpike.

My girls are mischievous and spirited. Curious and carefree. They are energy and wonder and play. They need to move and do instead of just be. They will not sit still and just talk. Or listen. But boy do they know how to live life out loud. They’re good for me."

^^Hey! I fixed that for you! And all I had to do was replace the word boys with girls! Looks like our kids would get along, eh? Just because my girls are girls and I am also a girl does not mean we are like each other. At all.

6) We have each other, we moms of boys.

Okay, what are we even doing here? I like my friends' who have boys FB posts about their rowdy little dudes. And they like my posts about having to carry my twins football style out of the Pharmacy because I won't buy them the Hot Wheels they wanted.

Like I really, really hate to keep harping on the same point you keep harping on, but I'd be right in there with you with your 'knowing eye rolls.' And I'm just not sure what world you're living in if you think the girl teenage cliches are any better. Another life-changer, here, you know, I'll also someday be a mother-in-law. As far as being envious of people with It's a Girl Balloons and pigtails, I guess you've got me there. I'd never be envious of any baby, or baby paraphernalia. As far as I'm concerned, I am almost free.

7) They can have it all. YOU SAY: "Or at least have an easier time trying. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think women can’t try to do and have it all—they should. I’ve been there. Done that. Outgrown the (collared) t-shirt. I’ve witnessed firsthand the unparalleled intelligence and efficiency of women who are mothers AND professionals. But I don’t pretend it’s not harder. Would I want my (theoretical) daughter to be a surgeon or a litigator? Not sure. My sons? Go for it."

Okay, this is just the most indescribable crap. What even is this steaming plate of garbage on my computer screen right now? By the time my girls are adults, society (with no help from you, apparently) will hopefully have come farther in allowing fluidity in gender roles, more lenient maternity and paternity leaves, women will make the same as men, and even now, even now, you're right, we can be intelligent and efficient and be mothers. While you get to be happy that your boys can be surgeons and litigators, I'll be working my motherly ass off to make that the same case for my girls.

But what really gets me here, what really gets me, is that you're not sure you'd want your daughter to be a surgeon or a litigator. 1) Why the hell not? 2) It doesn't matter what we, as parents, want our children to be. That's their choice. And 3) Attitudes like yours make my job a lot harder. So thanks. It's my favorite when people perpetuate gender stereotypes because they think they're 'realists.'

8) Boys speak their mind.  You say, blah blah blah, you prefer the company to men than women, they get right to the point, no chatter and--

I just have to stop you right there. Because even if you didn't have boys, apparently you'd still be a dick.

Then you talk about how they may not call you every day (by the way, my husband calls his mother more than I call mine), but when they do, they'll get right to the point. (Because girls apparently will only want to talk about their nail polish and shoes?) And my favorite:

"Have boys. Not bullshit."

Did you just call my kids bullshit? Or did you call the habits you just randomly assigned them based on their gender bullshit? Either way...it's bullshit.

9) They love their mamas in a special way. So. Do. Girls. (Man, I feel like a broken record.)

10) They’re your children, after all. "No matter how many of what kind you have, you’ll love them all fiercely, instinctively, and without effort. They will amaze you and delight you. Every single day. And you won’t be able to imagine your family any other way."

Well, I mean, you didn't even try with that one. As much as all of these are all-kid things, this one is an obvious one.

You may not have pictured yourself being a mom of all boys. I didn't picture myself being a mom at all, least not to twin girls. And we love it.

...It's not that your kids aren't special. They are! I'm not trying to take that away from you. But drawing the gender line and using the arbitrary societal ideology to do so is really saddening to me. Your kids aren't special because they're boys. They're special because they are yours.

 

GoldieBlox vs. What Exactly? - Contributor Post

Pollychromatic brings up some really good points about the Goldie Blox / Beastie Boys issue.

....



GoldieBlox and the Beastie Boys. What a freaking mess. Right in the heart of the intersectionality between feminism and parenting. Add in copyright legalities. Add in free speech. Add in artistic expression. Add in the free market.

Really, what a mess.

So where do I start?

I’ll start with who came first. The Beasties. Hey there Beasties. Oh how I love you.

I was 14 when Licensed to Ill came out. I loved it unashamedly. It was probably the very first hip hop that hit me in the suburbs of Northern California. I mean, there was the stray shot of rap that was White Lines, but really. It was all about the Beastie Boys when it comes to bringing hip hop to most of white America. That’s what started it.

I loved “Girls.” I don’t even cringe at it nowadays because that love is so strong. We shook our teenage asses to that song because it was freaking fun. Because. Because reasons. Because, listen.


It’s hard not to shake to that.

It does not even matter how horrible the lyrics are. Sometimes we just like horrible things. Let’s be real, though. When I was 14 I did not know how horrible it was. It was just catchy, and I was just dancing.

That love continued, too, even though the Beasties evolved so much over time. I loved their new stuff (hey, if you don’t think Paul’s Boutique is one of the most perfect albums to ever come out, you don’t know music), I loved their old stuff. On the run up to getting the scan done to find out the sexes of my twins, “Girls” was one of the ringtones that I had one my phone for a solid week.

It’s just a solid riff, and as much as I am a staunch feminist who completely rejects the message of “Girls,” I’m also the girl who shakes her ass to it.

So there’s that.

Then there’s GoldieBlox.

Dammit, GoldieBlox. I grew up in a family that completely supported STEM for girls (and boys). When the GoldieBlox Kickstarter happened, my whole family ate it up. My daughter has one of the original Kickstarter sets. You know, it’s a pretty good toy, too. Both my son and daughter like it.

The box is orange and yellow, with multi-colored dots and the blonde tool-belt sporting “Goldie” on top. The toy inside consists of pieces that are blue, purple, lavender, red, and yellow. With a long peachy-pink ribbon, and five character figures to manipulate. Each of the figures are internet-nerd friendly. A sloth, a hound dog, a grumpy looking cat, a tutu wearing dolphin and a koala in a business suit. A book that tells their story while giving you building instructions, and then alternate building instructions for ideas for free-play.

Pretty okay. Very tinker-toy with it’s spools and sticks and connector bits, but also kitschy in a way that has a lot of wink to the parent, and a lot of play for the kids who don’t get that it’s kitschy. Not quite enough toy, but a good starter set. For those of us who are raising boys and girls, and are kind of horrified by the gendered changes in marketing of toys in the last couple decades, we were willing to buy in and get the company off the ground.

Company founder and inventor Debbie Sterling is from the Bay Area, too, so that was an extra selling point for my family.

Then came this.

A great little Rube Goldberg machine built out of princess girl toys backed by three little girls running around to the song “Girls,” but with new lyrics that say girls really want a change.

And this. GoldieBlox are one of four finalists for ad space for a small business to get aired during the Superbowl.

This was sort of a slam dunk for me. Even with these good arguments in the mix.

I liked the subversive message of taking a song that had lyrics that are pretty backwards, and all the pink princess toys, and turning it all into an anthem that says NOPE. Admittedly, I was also pretty happy that the Beasties had signed onto this. Because of course they would have had to. Right?

Oh. Wait. Nope. The remaining Beasties make it clear that they accuse GoldieBlox of using their song in an ad. Something that MCA specifically requested in his will to never be done. They didn’t sue, they simply accused. It seemed to be upsetting to them, too, because they specifically like the mission statement of GoldieBlox. The guys grew up a lot, you know.

What was even more brass balls for GoldieBlox than using a song they didn’t even get permission to use, was that they hadpreemptively sued the Beasties for the right to do it under the label of free speech parody. Something that at least one expert in fair use legalities said was likely a legally tight case. At least tight enough to hold legal water, that is.

My ass stopped shaking to the new “Girls” for a second. Now I’m not sure what the hell I feel. I think I support GoldieBlox. Right? Feminism? STEM for girls? The right to free speech? Wait. Where do I stand?

It’s a bit harder to dance to that music.

The next shot out of this mess is a needle scratching across the record for me, though. The Beastie Boys didn’t even sue GoldieBlox. Whhhhhut?

Dammit, Debbie. Dammit.

 

Why I'm Going to Continue to Tell my Girls that They are Beautiful

Quite a while ago now, Lisa Bloom, blogger for the Huffington Post, wrote a piece outlining why we need to stop focusing on appearance in little girls. She made a lot of good points, and it gave me a lot to think about.

"ABC News reported that nearly half of all three- to six-year-old girls worry about being fat.

"15 to 18 percent of girls under 12 now wear mascara, eyeliner and lipstick regularly; eating disorders are up and self-esteem is down; and 25 percent of young American women would rather win America's Next Top Model than the Nobel Peace Prize."

I thought about these statistics, and I decided that I am not part of the problem, but part of the solution.

Bloom then stretches those statistics and comes up with this: "Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything. It sets them up for dieting at age 5 and foundation at age 11 and boob jobs at 17 and Botox at 23."

I don't agree with this. I don't think that complimenting a little girl on her looks chips away at her self-esteem. I cannot see how simply telling a girl she's pretty somehow translates into telling her she's not pretty enough. The problem, as I see it, isn't that parents or family or even strangers are remarking on physical attributes positively. The problem is beyond that. It's entrenched in a society that shows women with botox and boob jobs as prettier than the average girl. It's in the magazine spreads and celebrated celebrity lifestyles. It's in the television, as reality stars spend hours in the bathroom to get themselves ready for the next random hookup. It's not us. If anything, I think, our daughters need us to tell them they are pretty more now than ever.

When I say tell them they're pretty, I mean just that. If they look nice that day, if you like the way their hair is done, if they're your daughters and you just want to squish them up into you because they are the most beautiful creations inside and out to bless your world, you tell them that.

I don't mean saying things like, "You'd be prettier if...", or "Let's try to do your hair this way to make you pretty." I also don't mean dwelling on it. Once is enough, per surge of emotion. No need to repeat it a thousand times. That makes the words lose their meaning. They lose their context. If you are a broken record, your compliments cease to be compliments and they tread on the territory Bloom is talking about. Your compliments lose their object, the girl herself, and she begins to only hear, "pretty, pretty, pretty." This is what Bloom is scared of.

But there is another side of the coin that cannot be ignored. Our society, as it stands right now, is not blind to physical looks. To turn away from this does nothing to solve the problem. It will not help your little girl's self-esteem as she grows older. Yes, it's important to focus on her inner beauty and her skills, but there's no reason to pointedly ignore the physical. Because if you do ignore it, you'll be the only one. And you'll be leaving a gap where your daughter needs you most as she grows.

Because people are going to call her ugly. I don't care if she is the most beautiful, well-coiffed, poised young woman in the world, some jerk is going to come along and try to make her feel bad about herself. And while the thought that "looks aren't important, it's the beauty on the inside that counts" is true and important for her to know at every age, that's only going to help her when she's already a fully grown adult, when she's already determined who she is and what her personality is like, when she's already stable in her place in the world.

Looks aren't important, it's the beauty inside that counts. That's not going to help her when she's 9 or 12 or 15. At those ages, how the outside world perceives you is important, and a parent ignoring looks will become just another example of how "mom doesn't understand me," or "mom doesn't want me to be happy."

These are treacherous years. During them, your daughter is going to need to know in her subconscious that she is beautiful, inside and out. The way to give her that nugget of truth is to tell her when she is young. So that when that ahole comes along spouting filth about your daughter's looks, she doesn't have to rely on a philosophy too complex for her years to get her through. No, she'll be able to draw strength from a subconscious well of knowledge that she is, indeed, pretty. You told her so. Your friends told her so. Everyone she met from age 2 to now who is not this person (or these people, as the case may be) told her she was pretty. Her own self-esteem isn't developed enough to get her through the attacks unscathed, but with help from you in her growing years, she may find strength -- the source of which will not be clear in her mind.

Bloom is right. Little girls, teenaged girls and women in general should not have to worry about their looks, especially not obsessively like we've begun to do. But that doesn't change the way of the world, and your daughter needs your support in the world in which she lives, not in the ideal world in which you wish she lived.

So, yes, I will continue to tell my daughters they are beautiful. I will tell them every day. Because I feel it every day. And there will come a day when they no longer believe me. But my words to them now will be lodged in their subconscious minds. My words to them now, I hope, will form a base of knowledge from which they won't have to waver. I can only hope that they'll understand that looks are not everything, but that even so, they look beautiful. Always.

You know how my mother did that for me? She said "Looks are not everything, honey, and I think you might spend a little too much time caring about what other people think. You don't need to. You're beautiful on the outside. And more importantly, you're beautiful on the inside."

So, why not be honest with our daughters? Instead of ignoring an ugly side of society that we don't like, hiding in the sand, why don't we face it head on, acknowledge it, and give it its proper place in our daughters' perspectives as they grow? Because without our guidance here, without our acknowledgement and understanding of this part of life, our daughters will be forced to figure it out all on their own. And the only people they'll have for help are those magazine spreads filled with botoxed beauties. The only people they'll have for help are those kids at the bus stop calling them names.

We need to be a positive force in our daughters' lives as they live, not as we wish they could live.

 Link to original piece: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html?ref=fb&src=sp

___

If you like this blog, please vote on Babble.com. Tales of an Unlikely Mother is number17, just scroll down and click on the thumbs up! Thank you so, so much.