Exposed midriffs no longer a job requirement

I’ve always enjoyed baseball.  Beyond that, I’ve never been much of a sports person.  And then I caught on television one day the coolest thing!  Women’s beach volleyball.  Those women are AWESOME!  I was COMPLETELY sold when I saw this commercial.  Can any girl watch that and not want to be them!?  Not I, I’ll tell you that. 

Sadly, my athletic capabilities fall somewhere just short of mediocre.  Okay, I’m actually even worse.  Daria would kick my ass at volleyball. (Please tell me I’m not the only one who remembers Daria.)  So, sadly, I’ll have to force my daughter to play volleyball.  I’m just kidding about forceing her; why don’t we say “suggest.” Strongly.  Okay, I MAY have considered what would suit a professional volleyball player when picking her name (and almost went with C.J. instead because of it.)

So when my homepage came up this morning mentioning an article about women’s volleyball, I clicked on it right away, slow computer be damned.  And 6 minutes later, when the article finally loaded (y’all have no idea how long it takes me to do stuff on this computer.  You should feel VERY SPECIAL when I bother!) it was this one.  Apparently, for our Olympic athletes, bikinis are no longer required.  I didn’t know they were REQUIRED before, but it made me a little miffed to learn.

Now, don’t get me wrong, if I were one of those women, I would LIVE in a bikini.  Seriously, grocery shopping?  Dining out?  Taking in a movie?  Bikini. Bikini. Bikini.  But I would do it because I WANTED to (have you SEEN these women?)  I’m not sure that basically requiring women to wear a bikini to work* was something that should have lasted as long as it did, meaning right up till now.  I’m sure most of them want to, but REQUIRED?  For a job that doesn’t inherently require it?  That’s kinda sexist.   

But, we’re past that now, and other cultures who couldn’t compete due to ideas about modesty are now more likely to participate.  Yay.  The world needs more kick-ass, Amazonian women for me to look up to.  And since my ONE apprehension about forcing encouraging Lola to be a volleyball player was the shorty short shorts, I now can rest assured that “Shorts of a maximum length of [1.18 inches] above the knee” will be accepted.  And I know she’ll be DYING to be the only one in the Amish-wear.  🙂

*Dear Employer, my coworkers would like to sincerely thank you for not requiring me to wear a bikini to work.  Love, pasty, flabby mother-of-two with copious stretch marks.


Why I’m Jealous of My Husband

Yesterday, Brian said, “I know what you should blog about.”  Of course I paid him no heed, figuring his suggestions for posts were “How my husband is like a superhero” or “10 Reason’s I’ll be Putting Out Tonight!”  But then he kept talking and my jaw dropped.  Repeatedly.  See, yesterday, my clearly insane dear husband decided to go grocery shopping with BOTH kids.  Just to shame me, I think, for being completely unable to accomplish such a feat. 

Yup, he was supposed to grocery shop while the kids were at daycare (he’s off of school this week, but they have to go at least 2 days anyway because them’s the rules.  Well, they don’t have to GO, but we have to pay for it, so they might as well go.)  And then, at about 4pm, I get a call at work; it’s Brian: “do you have any tips for using this Peanut Shell?”  Excuse me?  My husband has NEVER worn the baby in his life.  Despite the fact that this:

is so hot.  And this:

is his hero.

So, I stutter out a “where are you going?”  him: “I have to take both kids to get groceries.”  me: “are you high?” 

He was still in his previously mentioned Valium induced coma while the kids were at daycare (good thing they were at daycare!), and he knew how disappointed I’d be that he didn’t get anything accomplished.  So, despite my FIRM protestations that he should just wait until I get home, he was heading to the grocery store where he planned for Lola to ride in the cart while Corbin was in the Peanut Shell because I had the Ergo in my car and the Moby scared the crap out of him. (that’s not even HALF my babywearing devices by the way, I’m kind of a fanatic.)  I would like to note that by the time he called me to ask where the oatmeal was, Corbin was no longer in the Peanut Shell.  Did I mention my husband’s not much of a babywearer?

But here is the REAL point that he thought I should share here:  Everyone and their brother bent over backwards to be helpful and supportive while he wrangled those two children.  He is aware of the disapproval that I and other mothers tend to get when we have our kids out in public and they are not pretending to be perfect angels.  So he was primed to take notice of the fact that if he dropped something, someone quickly picked it up for him, and other such niceties. 

He went on and on while I sat there feeling cheated and jealous.  Here is my favorite: at one point, Corbin lost his sock (baby socks!  whole other rant!), and when Brian found it, he stuck it in his pocket (because dads don’t care as much about things like babies having warm, matching feet.)  Well, at the checkout, a woman noticed the adorable One Sock Wonder and, get this: VOLUNTEERED TO SEARCH THE STORE FOR IT AND BRING IT TO HIM.  That has NEVER happened to me.  In fact, I’d probably have to sit through disapproving comments about how his poor little tootsies must be cold.

I think I must have had a bitter look on my face, because Brian was sure to tell me “I’m not trying to make you mad, I just thought it would be a good blog post.”  Oh, indeed sir. 

Seriously, when did all those judgy other women get so nice?  Why are our experiences so different?  I could hypothesize.  I suspect it has something to do with the idea that a man getting groceries with two children is novel and delightful, while a woman doing the same is just expected.  I don’t really know.  What do you think?  I’d love some thoughtful words on the subject.  Mine can mostly be summed up as: WTF?

ETA: Funny things Lola mispronounced yesterday.  m&m = neminem* and Barack Obama = Rockabumma

*PS- another difference in dad v. mom grocery shopping with the kids, Brian bought and let her eat and entire bag of m&ms.  And if I remember right, we forgot to brush her teeth last night.  Doh!


I don’t really know how this using photos thing works, so FYI- Brad Pitt is courtesy of mamma’s milk, and Galifianakis is courtesy of weekly world news.

Grrrls Raising Girls

A while back, I had this idea to start a blog because I wanted to have some discourse with other people about the challenge of raising a girl in our society.  I thought I could call it Grrls Raising Girls, and I would discuss a topic and then I could hear enlightening responses from all kinds of people.  I’m not sure why I thought I was going to just instantly have all these many, varied readers who were going to be so eager to share their comments with me. 

Anyway, now that I have THIS blog here, I thought maybe I could make this a sort of occasional feature.  But I keep mulling it over, and I can’t come up with a great season opener, so to speak. (I love baseball lingo.  I think half the reason I love baseball is because of the lingo.  I have romantic ideals about baseball.  Not romance in the lovey sense; you know what I mean.  Also- watch Moneyball!  If you like baseball.  Which is probably zero percent of my current reading audience.  Not to mention those who hate Brad Pitt.  Jerks.    HOLY TANGENT!!!!  Can you see how I’m having trouble trying to start up this feminism topic?) 

So, I thought what I would do is just make a post.  You know, just go ahead and…break the ice?  Look, I’m trying desperately to think of a phrase that means the same thing as “pop my cherry” without having to use that phrase, because I don’t like it.  But, well, too late.  And it might be rambly or bad, but maybe it will get better with the next one.

Bet y’all are totally jazzed after that setup, RIGHT!?

So the first thing I have to say about feminism is that it’s not evil or even lame.  Seriously.  I know 98% of people hear that word and immediately their mind goes somewhere negative.  And, this is a BIG topic, but let me talk about that.

There is a great website called Tomato Nation.  Once upon a time, the author there wrote a fantastic essay called Yes, You Are.  Let’s look at an excerpt.

“Yes. You are. You are a feminist. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. Period. It’s more complicated than that — of course it is. And yet…it’s exactly that simple. It has nothing to do with your sexual preference or your sense of humor or your fashion sense or your charitable donations, or what pronouns you use in official correspondence, or whether you think Andrea Dworkin is full of crap, or how often you read Bust or Ms. — or, actually, whether you’ve got a vagina. In the end, it’s not about that. It is about political, economic, and social equality of the sexes, and it is about claiming that definition on its own terms, instead of qualifying it because you don’t want anyone to think that you don’t shave your pits. It is about saying that you are a feminist and just letting the statement sit there, instead of feeling a compulsion to modify it immediately with “but not, you know, that kind of feminist” because you don’t want to come off all Angry Girl. It is about understanding that liking Oprah and Chanel doesn’t make you a “bad” feminist — that only “liking” the wage gap makes you a “bad” feminist, because “bad” does not enter into the definition of feminism. It is about knowing that, if folks can’t grab a dictionary and see for themselves that the entry for “feminism” doesn’t say anything about hating men or chick flicks or any of that crap, it’s their problem.

“It is about knowing that a woman is the equal of a man in art, at work, and under the law, whether you say it out loud or not — but for God’s sake start saying it out loud already. You are a feminist.

“I am a feminist too. Look it up.”

Well said, Sars.  🙂

Why is the notion so prevalent that feminism is such a BAD thing?  I’d like to blame it all on Rush Limbaugh.  But of course, there are so many more people promoting that idea.  The idea that “feminist” translates exactly to “radical, man-hating bitch.”  And anyone who uses the word feminism is going to now be preachy and insufferable and you have permission to just stop listening because, Hello! Women aren’t better than men!, and of course that’s all that feminism means.

Except, that’s not what feminism means at all.

Women today run like Hell from the term feminist.  And that’s a shame.  Because, contrary to popular belief, feminism isn’t a useless, antiquated notion. Just look at what’s been going on politically.  And if I am going to raise a daughter in this world, I want there to be plenty of people who believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes.  And I don’t want those people to be afraid to say so.  Those people are feminists, and I wish they’d realize it and say it out loud.

Love this quote