Guns and racism and censorship and drama and education. What's that? You think I'm being controversial?

Some of you may remember that about a month back I wrote about the selection of the annual musical at Grace's high school, Annie Get Your Gun, and whether the arts should be censored for teenagers. I argued that the arts should not be censored for teenagers and that parents alone should be held responsible for addressing their own values surrounding controversial issues at home. There were no dissenters in the comments. I was surprised. I expected at least one of you out there to say I was off my rocker. You really all agree with me? You believe that the public schools shouldn't limit access to the arts?

I bring this up now because one person who read the post emailed me directly and told me I was wrong. Dead wrong. On Monday, after we finished our family celebration of Children's Day, I read my email and received a message from a parent at Grace's school who had been forwarded the URL of the post. And it wasn't just any parent; it was the parent who had raised the objection to the choice of the musical in the first place. She corrected some errors I had made in the original post (there is an amendment to that post now). She also revisited the issue of how the school should be responding to Native Americans and women being marginalized in Annie Get Your Gun, as well as firearms being glorified. Since she presented her points in an email, unfortunately those of you reading the post wouldn't have the benefit of her comments. I thought it would be fruitful to revisit the issue again in order to give voice to an opposing view.

The concerned parent and I agree on the core issues, like the problems stemming from children having access to firearms and the desensitization to racial and gender-based discrimination when it arrives in subtle forms (or in any form, for that matter). Despite this common agreement, from reading what she has written to me, we disagree on how minors should be educated about these issues. I take it to be my role as a parent to educate my child at home as to what values I hope for her to take as her own. The other parent believes that some collective body should make those decisions for all students and all of them should be taught those values at school. For instance, this parent wrote to me in her email that fake firearms, such as those used as props in a play, are a public health risk, plain and simple. Since this is fact, we should never allow guns to be used as props in a school building since the presence of firearms anywhere constitutes a public health risk to all exposed (most importantly, minor students). Further, if arts containing firearms are present in the school, it is the responsibility of the school to educate students about gun control. In order for these actions to be made, some appointed authority would need to endorse these decisions as fact. If individuals hold a different opinion from that which the authoritative group decides, too bad. Now, while it is true that the majority of voting adults in our community support gun control, I'd say that the issue is a far cry from a closed-book issue. I mean, if we were suggesting that high school students in a public school located somewhere differently, like, say, in Oklahoma or Texas, should be taught that gun control is the only policy that will do, I can imagine that there would be some vehement vocal disagreement. So rather than bring controversial two-sided arguments to the school system to render a verdict on, I prefer that the educational system educate students about the issues and leave the verdicts up to parents.

So that's gun control. For me, I err on the side of protecting individual rights. I may not exercise my right to have a firearm at home, but I want to be very careful about limiting the right altogether. Maybe it's the American in me. Maybe it's the southerner in me. Maybe it's my experience in rural parts of the country that makes me feel this way, you know, places where it's useful to have a firearm because if someone untoward drives into your farm up to no good, you can meet them at the door with your rifle aimed just in case law enforcement doesn't show up before the ruffians do.

But on a broader scale, what about other topics? No one who commented on my original post indicated that they thought the educational system or some other authority should have the right to limit students' access to the arts, no matter what the content. Really? You guys think that sex and rock 'n' roll and rap and all the rest should be available to teens?

Do you think we should have rating systems on movies and television and music, keeping minors from their consumption, or do you think that kind of censorship is ok?

Birth control? Abortion?

What about argumentation that the sex industry is liberating?

What about expressions of disgust for the government?
What about expressions of disgust for opposition to the government?

War? War protests?

Gang warfare? Legalizing all mind-altering substances?

All of it? You all think that all of this information should be openly available to teens to digest for themselves, hoping that their parents or guardians will help guide their thinking in order to prevent societal chaos?

In all fairness, in the comments of my original post, Angelawd qualified her support for my position by writing "I do believe all ideas and materials should be appropriate for the age, and for the individual. Some kids are able to handle more reality than others." That sounds sensible. But now we have to ask, what is appropriate for teenagers? And what if some of those teenagers are able to handle more reality than others? How do we teach them all in the same school? I'm sure there are things that some of you think the schools should not allow students to access, aside from those things that are illegal. As you can see from my laundry list of questions above, Annie Get Your Gun is nowhere near as controversial as we could get.

I'll give you the behind the scenes to why I think parents should be the ones making these decisions at home and teaching their children those values at home. I've lived in four very different regions of the US: South Florida, Central Texas, Southeast Michigan and Washington, DC. You can imagine that the mainstream values in each of these locales differed considerably. But whether or not I shared those mainstream values, that was what my community would endorse in the educational system. Along the way, through my own education and in taking part in my daughter's, I realized that it was not the values that were taught in the schools that were important. What was most important was that no matter what the majority of concerned citizens around us valued, my daughter would learn from me the things I believed were correct. For myself, I wish I had gotten the benefit of other viewpoints and opinions than the ones I was taught at school. For my daughter, I've realized that my involvement in her life as a parent is far more important than my involvement as a mover and shaker in her community. But once someone else has taught your child a value, sometimes it is difficult to teach your child something very different.

Now, that's a more lengthy version of my stance and I'm still sticking to it. But I really want to hear from the rest of you. Think about it. Are you willing to have your children hear information that you vehemently disagree with in order for them to hear a balanced view? Or would you rather they be educated in line with your own values? Are the arts (literature, drama, music, visual) any different from social sciences or physical sciences? How does religion play into this, if at all? What do you think of the education at the college level?

~~~ For those of you out there who want more controversial discussion, stay tuned. Monday I will finally publish a post that has been rattling around inside my head and in various drafts for over a month. Annie Get Your Gun raises issues of racial discrimination; I have been wrestling with the marginalizing of biracial couples and mixed race children. ~~~

One more time, because it's a message that matters

This is the third time I've posted this video to my blog. The first two times were in December 2008 and in January of this year. The video is put out by The Girl Effect. Indeed, I put it up now, for a third time, because it really is that good.



Yesterday I got a notice on my Facebook newsfeed that Oprah Winfrey was going to mention The Girl Effect on her show that afternoon. I tuned in and, sure enough, her whole show was dedicated to real ways that each one of us can change a woman's life in a developing country. She even included a page on her site that gives direct links to numerous organizations and specific ways you can help another woman. There's also a newly released book, Half The Sky, that inspired the show Oprah put on yesterday. I'm ordering a copy today for our home and making sure Grace gets to read it.

I haven't been contacted my anyone to endorse this cause in any way. For all I know, none of these organizations even knows I exist. I am so persistent in mentioning this cause because I'm being hit smack on the head by something so important, so obvious, that I have to pay attention to. Our world is plagued by so many ills that could be solved. None of them can be solved until women around the world are no longer marginalized. How can I as a woman ignore that? I am among the most privileged group of women to have ever walked the earth; how can I ignore that most of the women on the planet do not have this measure of privilege?

There is a woman in Brazil who I think of every day. Take that back, she's not a woman, she's a girl. She is fifteen years old, the same age as my older daughter. I've never met her; I don't even know her name. But I hear about her a lot and I worry about her. She has lived in poverty her entire life. Years ago, her two older brothers stopped their education in order to work and try to make money for their family. This girl has also stopped going to school; she gave birth to her first child, a girl, the same week that Stella was born. The baby's father is in his twenties and long since gone. This fifteen year old girl is raising her baby alone. One girl the same age as my oldest daughter giving birth to another daughter the same age as my younger daughter. I wish I could take both of the girls in my arms and hold them. I wish I could make their life as good as the one my two girls have had. Instead, I think of them. Each month their family gets $100 from more fortunate people, generous people; it doesn't go far, but it gives them some of the necessities that they would otherwise do without. In the absence of anything else I can do for them, I hope that the money helps their situation get better.

That's my touchstone, the one I use to remember that every girl matters. A lot. I need to remember that I am rich, I experience the most lavish life that this planet can offer. Here in the industrialized world, the first world, we've spent the last two years navel gazing and believing that the sky is falling because we are experiencing economic downturn. Imagine a different world though, one where all the luxuries we have let go of never existed in the first place. They are impossible dreams. Just the privilege of going to school is not something you as a woman are allowing to do.

Today, today let's make a difference.

Should the arts be censored for teenagers?

The following post has been amended as of October 13, 2009, with changes and comments immediately following. A follow up post on October 16, 2009 addresses these amendments.

Last night I attended the first PTA meeting of the school year at Grace's school. I have been involved in this organization since before Grace finished 8th grade. Last year was my learning year, we could say. That is, I learned that organizations that have no profit margin or dollar amount placed on time tend to harbor lots of endless conversation and controversy. After a few months of participating, I learned how to protect my time and, to some extent, how to diffuse the energy from never-ending debates.

Last night there were several controversies. There was a 30-40 minute interrogation of the principal over her lack of sufficient communication to the school community after the first day of school regarding a potential criminal matter at a bus stop. Then there was more discussion regarding her past failure to post the daily announcements at the school's website. A last minute controversy began over how much of a voice the students have in matters like what type of food is served at the Homecoming dance and how much they should be emotionally supported by the PTA. And then one very concerned parent brought up the theatre department's choice of an annual school musical -- Annie Get Your Gun.*

The last parent, new to the school since her daughter is a freshman, expressed great disapproval of the musical. It glorifies the use of firearms and requires that we introduce weapons as props in a play. Further, women and native Americans suffer the ills of discrimination and inequality throughout the libretto.

Fair enough, these are valid points. And fair enough that the parent brought up these concerns at this point even though auditions for the musical began yesterday afternoon. When all is said and done, it's very unlikely that the theatre department will change their choice at this point. Consequently the discussion becomes one of values and opinions, rather than one that will effect real change. Still, the discussion rankled me. I was irritated. I was annoyed. I thought this woman was doing it for show, putting on airs so as to establish her superiority in the pecking order that is the PTA.

It was only later that I thought, why do I feel this way?

It was censorship. It's the idea that teenagers can't handle information.

For the purpose of my discussion here, let's abstract away from the issue that the school musical is an extracurricular activity that the kids are not required to participate in. There are plenty of things that students are exposed to in the name of education that could be construed as inappropriate along the same line of reasoning. If you've ever been in education, you know the laundry list of literature of all genres that has been subject to censorship in the curriculum. What is worse for students to read: Annie Get Your Gun or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? What about The Catcher in the Rye? The Taming of the Shrew? (Or God forbid, Kiss Me Kate.) The question of whether teenagers can handle discussion of sensitive issues has been out there for quite a long while. Some believe that all of the aforementioned titles should be banned from a school's curriculum. Others err of the side of liberalism and say none of it should be censored. And then there are the curious cases in which people nit pick on a case by case basis, reaching inconsistent verdicts for each work.

It bothers me considerably. I don't think that the school or the government or any other board should be censoring material. I think that's the job of parents. If my daughter is deeply involved in a theatrical production that has themes I don't agree with, I can take the opportunity to talk to her about those issues. That's my take on the issue.

When I was a senior in high school, I was the student director of the school's production of Oklahoma! Weapons, discrimination against women, yeah, they were in there. Heck, it was my great-grandfather's double-barreled shotgun that was used as a prop by Andrew Carnes. That's right, an actual firearm was used as a prop.** In one of the final scenes, we directed Will Parker to lasso Ado Annie and pull her to him, an act demonstrating that he had indeed won her over. No one objected. When Grace was in 8th grade, her middle school put on The Sound of Music. There, in middle of Act I, Leisl swung her body back and forth flirtatiously towards Rolf while singing the words, 'I need someone older and wiser telling me what to do. You are 17 going on 18; I'll depend on you.' I was concerned for the actress playing Leisl and hoped one of her parents took the opportunity to talk about her place in the world as a young woman. But still, I don't think the play should have been censored because of these lyrics.

If students don't encounter these works, these works that were contemporary in their time but that now are rightfully deemed discriminatory, how will students learn about the history of these issues? How will they develop the ability to recognize subtle forms of discrimination when they appear? How will they come to appreciate the progress we have made (or haven't) as a society? In short, if students have no access to these works, how will we begin a discussion with them about the issues they raise?

I don't know if my stance makes me a raving liberal or a staunch conservative. Since I want a hands off approach, that should make me conservative. But since we're talking about social issues and I'm advocating full access to information, that should make me a liberal. Who knows. But that's my stance and I'm sticking to it.


*I want to be sure to note here that the theatre director chose the 1999 revival version of the musical to put on, a revision of the script and libretto that significantly reduces the level of racial and gender-based discrimination. I'm not sure the objecting parent knows this.

**Granted, the barrel of the shotgun wasn't aligned correctly and the whole weapon weighed about 35 lbs. I doubt anyone could have used it effectively as weapon, much less even pick it up.

AMENDED ON OCTOBER 13, 2009
I received an email from the parent who voiced concern about the choice of Annie Get Your Gun as the choice of dramatic musical at Grace's high school. A colleague of hers found the blog on October 12 and forwarded her the link to this post. She notes several inaccuracies which I correct here. I always strive to accurately represent things here since bloggers get a lot of criticism for not checking their facts. In the interest of presenting the facts more accurately, please note the changes below. My apologies for any misunderstandings for any and all readers that may have occurred as a result of these errors.

• The child of this parent is a sophomore, thus she did know about the choice of the musical the previous spring. The concerns she raised in September have been brought up since last June.
  
• To clarify that my first impressions of her at the meeting were indeed incorrect, her motivation in bringing up these concerns at a PTA meeting was not to "put on a show, airs, or establish my superiority in the pecking order of the PTA." Rather, she is extremely busy and would prefer to be minimally involved in the organization.
  
• She was aware that the revised version of the musical was selected by the theatre director before making her objections.
• She reiterated in correspondence with me that she strongly disagrees that parents should have a "hands-off" approach as I advocate here.
  

Another update in pictures

Remember what my toes looked like two weeks ago? When they were swollen? And I had just had a pedicure? Apparently I didn't know what swollen was. Here's what they looked like then:


This is what they looked like Wednesday night:


I knew you could bloat after a cesarean, but this was off the charts. They pumped a lot of fluid into me via IV during the surgery and from Friday noon until about Wednesday morning, every single bit of tissue in my body from my diaphragm down was completely bloated with fluid. My joints were useless, no contour of my muscles could be detected, and my bones couldn't be found anywhere. Since I'm not supposed to be moving around much (and frankly there was no way I can move around much given the pain level I'm experiencing), it makes getting the fluid out of my body more difficult. And then I came up with an idea: use heat to get my blood circulating, and then the fluid will get carried out of my tissue. Pleased with my new idea, I put the heating pad on high and left it on my thighs overnight. Sure enough, blood circulation increased rapidly and I started getting on my feet to the restroom every hour. It also had the nice effect of making me sweat. Within 24 hours, I had lost 15 pounds. I have never seen such a fast and dramatic change. I also have never been so eager to be uncomfortably hot ;-)

OK, on to better things. Since we came home from the hospital Sunday evening, I've mostly been sitting in my bedroom like a Victorian aristocrat, getting every meal in bed and moving only when absolutely necessary. I have the home phone, my cell phone, my lap top, the tv remote, the iDock remote, the camera along with all its cords, note pads, my wallet, medicine, candy and chapstick, everything all within arm's length. So I can make shopping lists, order stuff online, blog, play online games, check facebook, watch cable reality shows, pig out and get a sugar high, and sedate myself all without getting out of bed. I feel incredible. Here's a sampling of a typical breakfast I receive here in Chez Postpartum:


Raspberry danish, marble and cheddar cheese cubes, hard boiled egg, raisin bran and sweet cherries and blueberries on the side, all with orange juice and milk. Yesterday morning I got French toast with sour cream and maple syrup, berries on the side and wheat toast. Yes, I'm a spoiled Victorian aristocrat. Duchess Heather, we'll call me. Duchess Heather and Lady Stella.

And now for a update on how things went medically and on our general health. This is what I looked like at 7a, when we arrived at the hospital.


The part about this whole birth story that I'm keeping very quiet about is this: I actually got the chance to have contractions. Really. It started Wednesday night. I noticed I was having trouble breathing and used my inhaler. I called my allergist first thing Thursday morning, asking if it was wise for me to use my inhaler so close to surgery and after steroid injections the previous two days. He said there was no way it was asthma; the steroid injections would have prevented any onset of asthma. Then again, Thursday night, breathing trouble. It went on for a good hour before I realized, I'm having trouble breathing because I'm having contractions. I decided to not alarm my husband, take a warm bath and go to bed. I mean, what's the difference at that point? They stopped overnight. But I will hold onto that brief experience as a taste of what the natural onset of labor would have felt like had circumstances been different. A small gift.

My surgery involved some unexpected twists and I lost more blood than normal. During standard pre-op monitoring of vitals, Stella was showing some signs of distress without an apparent explanation. Though she was healthy and fine when she finally was delivered, the vitals caused my doctor to jump start the surgery. (I applaud him for not alarming me or my husband by sharing this information until after the surgery was completed.) Consequently, I don't have a cute tiny c-section scar. It's low and it is wide. Which came in handy when, after delivery, my doctor had to lift my uterus out to ensure I could have more children later. The myomectomy site from my surgery a year ago was pretty thin and the doctor expressed his happiness that we scheduled the c-section for 36 weeks. He chose to stitch the site so that the uterine wall would be reinforced for future pregnancies. My husband watched the whole surgery, except for times when he was kissing Stella and I and taking in her awesomeness. He even filmed a good bit of the surgery and took pictures, though I haven't been brave enough to see those shots and clips yet. When my surgeon had closed and all things surgical were almost over, he came over and congratulated me, and I gave him a hug.


Stella was 6 lbs, 7.4 oz at birth. Like most late preterm infants, she lost some weight and she's having a hard time getting it back. As of Wednesday, she is still under 6 lbs. Not a huge deal, but the pediatrician wants us to reduce her activity as much as possible and have her eating a lot. So...the Victorian aristocratic lifestyle it is. She and I stay together in our pristine tower and eat and rest, eat and rest, eat and rest all day and night long.

But she is cute. And sweet. And lovely. And I am completely euphoric, even in my present state of complete sleep deprivation.


So much for "our daughter will never wear pink." We are guilty as charged.

The Weekly Slug: 24 weeks

I'm officially in over my head. I had no idea pregnancy and childbirth and parenting and family-making had become such a fuss. Perhaps it's always been this way and I have just been terribly naive the first time around. Regardless, I am feeling a little overwhelmed.

It seems like you are required to have an opinion on every single little thing that could possibly ever happen to a child. And not just any 'ole opinion, a STRONG opinion. For instance, am I going to use cloth diapers or disposables? Or, am I going to have my child vaccinated on a recommended schedule or should I be conservative and slow down that pace? Or refuse vaccinations altogether? Breast or bottle, work or stay home, child sleeps in bed with parents or in a bassinette in the same room or in a separate nursery in a bassinette or in a crib...

Note that I haven't event touched the mother* of all topics: childbirth.

Before we go much further, I'm having a cesarean section. It will probably be done at or about 37 weeks. That being said, let's go on.

This week I saw this video at Momversation:



Before I saw this, I didn't even know there was such a thing as a birth plan. What the hell is a birth plan? Clearly the women on the forum think the idea of a written document is a bit over the top, with the exception of Heather Armstrong. Do I need a birth plan? Shouldn't someone who is caring for my pregnancy tell me about a birth plan? I'm almost through my second trimester and I don't even know what a birth plan is!!!!!!!

Listening to the dialogue got me thinking about how I used to talk about pregnancy and childbirth, long, long ago, way back when I was a budding young mother...

Grace was a healthy 7 lb, 15 oz baby born after 14 hours of labor by way of an induced labor, an epidural, an episiotomy, and a forceps delivery. The labor was induced because my doctor was concerned she would be very big and force me into c-section. Her Apgar scores were 8 and 9 and she left the hospital roughly 36 hours after delivery with a slight case of jaundice which resolved itself within the next 48 hours. Prior to childbirth, I had attended childbirth classes and hoped for a delivery in a birthing room in the hospital without the need for an epidural. That was the extent of my "birth plan."

After my daughter was born, I started learning about all the other options I could have chosen. If I hadn't had my labor induced, could I have averted so many other consequential negatives? What about breaking my water artificially, was that bad? Or the epidural that they gave me after 8 solid hours of intense contractions, while I progressed to only 5 cm dilation? My mind went wild. That doctor was a medical menace. He didn't take my feelings into account. He didn't ask my opinion of anything (did I have an opinion?). I got mad at my (now ex-)husband because he never considered anything other than a hospital birth, saying that he wasn't going to have his kid born in "some kind of a half-way house where pregnant women walk around naked and moaning." I learned all about how doctors don't care about women and just want to make money, never even considering whether the recommendations they give women are the best options for their health.

Well. That was many years ago. I still think there is not enough done in research about women's health issues. But after being treated for years for uterine fibroid tumors and endometriosis and resulting infertility, I've come to a different view of gynecology and obstetrics. The medical team who has treated me the last few years has not only tried everything in their power to make my reproductive options as healthy and natural as they possibly could be, they are also active researchers in the exact areas they treat me for.

Back to my scheduled c-section and a birth plan. I plan on having a healthy baby and doing whatever it takes to optimize my reproductive health to hopefully do this again. Though it might not apply to most women out there, choosing to deliver vaginally would put those goals at too high a risk for my husband and I to consider. So we're going to deliver this baby as late as we possibly can, while maintaining that there be as little chance as possible that labor contractions could begin on their own. That will probably be in week 37.

I don't see my doctor as pushing me into anything. My reproductive endocrinology surgical team tried everything they could to avoid cutting my uterus, thus allowing any (hopeful) future pregnancies to progress as naturally as possible. When we got to the point that there were no other options but surgery and making an incision across my uterus to remove a large fibroid out of a mass of adenomyosis, the lead surgeon talked with my husband and I as long as we liked about what this would realistically mean for any future pregnancy and childbirth.

For me, cesarean or vaginal birth is not a determination of whether I am empowered as a women. For me, the whole process of being empowered about my health is working with physicians who always communicate with me and work together with me. This applies not only to obstetrics and gynecology, but also to every kind of medical care I received.

I'm fortunate to have a great set of doctors, both at the infertility clinic and at obstetrics. They work together seamlessly, so seamlessly that I hardly even noticed a shift in my care from one need to the other. I know this isn't the case for most people out there. I hope that we as a society can work towards it.

As for the other things I MUST have an opinion on:

• breast only, hopefully at least for the entire first year
  
• bassinette, in our bedroom, until she's big enough for a crib, and then she'll probably still stay in the bedroom a bit longer
• cloth diapers
• NO PHOTOGRAPHS of me during delivery or anytime closely thereafter. And none of my dear daughter that make her look like a wet rat or something else disgusting.
• I don't want to see any of the delivery when it happens, nor do I want to have it filmed or photographed. Been there, done that, know myself, wish to stay conscious and not become faint at the sight of my own gore.
  
• Thinking about getting a Tummy Tub, but I can't imagine the expense is worth it. People will make fun of me for putting my baby in a bucket, I know it.
  

Ok, that's it. I can't even begin to deal with all the rest of the things that I should have something to say something about. Can you imagine if I were having a boy and needing to explain to all of you why I would never have him circumcised?

* Get it? Mother of all topics? Childbirth? A-ha! I made a joke, did you guys see that?
You're not laughing, I can tell.
Damn, I'm still not funny.

boody shorts and other things not to fight for the right for

I think my husband phrased it best a few nights ago: "These students are fighting for the right to dress up like whores and have their classmates ogle their asses." And that was after six days of discussion about the dress code shake up at Grace's school last Friday.

It happens in every middle school and high school every year. It happens no matter how conservative or liberal the dress code is, including those that have uniforms. Sooner or later, the students decide they want to push the rules, the school administration responds, and the students grumble and complain.

Last Friday the school administration at Grace's high school pulled several students out of class, all women, and cited 30 of them for dress code violations. The violations? Short shorts, micro minis and tube tops. The school has a policy that skirt and short lengths can't be higher than the tips of the fingers. All the parents of the cited students were notified. Students were given the option of changing into suitable clothing they had in their lockers, waiting for a parent to bring them a change of clothing, or walking home and changing clothes before being allowed to return to classes. A fourth option, which only one girl took, was to wear an extra-large t-shirt with the words "Tomorrow I Will Dress For Success" brandished across the front over her clothing, concealing the violating garments.

The student body has been outraged ever since the students were first removed from classes that day. The students discussed the matter in every single class. During lunch when some of the students returned to class, students stood on the lunch tables clapping, yelling, hurrahing, and, well, hooting. By the end of the day there was a petition written and signed by over 100 students (about 20% of the current student body), to be delivered to the principal directly. One student stepped forward as a reporter for the school paper and asked for "student victims" to contact her directly so she could address the matter in the next issue of the paper. Over the weekend three different facebook groups were begun by students protesting the matter. They had lovely and creative names like "OUR HIGH SCHOOL's dress code is RETARDED" and "OUR HIGH SCHOOL's rebellion." The rebellion group suggested every student come to school on Monday wearing short shorts, mini skirts, or showing some undergarment (all dress code violations) and label the protest "Dress like a Ho Day."

The school board communications officer released a public statement, as did the principal. The local newspaper picked up the story and posted a short bit on their online site. Five hours later, it was filled with over 50 comments, all from students of the high school or other local high schools.

I wish I could say there was some good critical thinking evidenced in these multiple expressions of protest. I wish I could say that this whole episode was just a difference of opinion between the school administration and the students. I wish I could say that the actions of the students reflected careful reflection and thought. I wish I could say my daughter wasn't one of the most outspoken members of the outraged constituency.

*Sigh.* Here are the more troubling facts as I see them.

• All the facebook groups were started by male students. And some of the male students can't help but comment about how they want to see the girls wearing these kinds of clothing.
• The girls are defending their right to wear these clothes using arguments like their right to self-expression is being stifled and that the dress code does not allow them to be comfortable in school, a year-round climate-conditioned building.
• There are numerous comments made by students about how it is impossible for them to buy shorts that meet the school dress code requirement, and that the dress code is old-fashioned. Here's a sample quote from one of the outraged youths: "Times now are COMPLETELY different from when the teachers and staff were young. Now it is next-to impossible to get shorts mid-thigh. This may seem irrelevant but its not cool to wear shorts much longer then your fingertips....we just want to fit in...ever heard of peer pressure?"

If you're like me, you're reading all this and just rolling your eyes. The arguments are rife with problems. Like, isn't nude photography a form of self-expression? And, so, I guess all the teens and adults with jobs are being oppressed by not being able to wear whatever makes them comfortable due to company dress code policies? Or, what can we say about adults who lived through the haute pants of the 70s or the lace tops over bras of the 80s, that they are COMPLETELY out of touch? That succumbing to peer pressure and dressing a certain way solely because your society dictates that you should are qualities to be aspired to?

But more than this lack of mature logic, I'm troubled that these students, these predominantly female students, see themselves as advocates for themselves by making these arguments. In reality, they're fighting for the right to dress provocatively in their primary place of business, their school. Even when Grace talked about it with me initially, she said that even though she wouldn't dress that way because I wouldn't let her, that doesn't mean that other girls shouldn't be able to.

Why do young girls not see how duped they are? Why do they never consider that the societally-dictated fashion standard that they are supposed to conform to is not helping them?

By the way, I have to include here the best comment I read by a student BY FAR:

"This was a very stupid move for the staff. If they want to interrogate us and treat us like 2 year olds, they should know that there will be consequences for their actions as there are for ours. We are hormonal teenagers who want to make a point, AND WE WILL MAKE A POINT!!"

*Sigh.* At least I can tell you that Grace didn't author that comment.

While I'm at it, on a less important note...

I have been reading the news today. The questions are looming:

• As the G20 summit in London wraps up, are we averting a global recession?
• Chrysler and GM are in trouble. Big trouble. What's the solution?
• The unemployment numbers are coming out tomorrow. Will they be as bad as all are fearing?
• (I think I'm getting this right) The federal tax on a single pack of cigarettes just went up 62 cents to a total of $1 for each pack. So for roughly every cigarette smoked in the United States now, Uncle Sam gets 5 cents. Is this just a clever way to make sure smokers will stay in the hole financially while the federal government raises much needed capital for its spending endeavors?
  

As I'm reading the comments on news stories, I find a recurrent theme. President Obama and his administration, along with a Congress controlled by the Democratic party, are going to kill us all by overspending. We will all pay dearly for this for decades to come. Us, our children, probably our grandchildren. And like a clear refrain, we hear the mantra "STOP BIG GOVERNMENT."

I agree. Hands off my reproductive system. Could the critics of the Democratic Party at least be consistent in their message and include this very obvious omission in their platform? The government should have no right to tell anyone whether they can use a contraceptive or whether they can end a pregnancy. Oh, and I got news for you if you're a Republican because you think they are the most moral party -- WAKE UP. The party officials succeeded in duping you into believing they really care about life more than the other party just so they could get your vote while smearing dirt all over most of the issues that actually protect the sanctity and dignity of life.

Sorry, I'm just very sensitive about it right now. I keep getting the pro-lifers in my life throwing my pregnancy in my face and telling me, see? It's a baby, isn't it? Don't you think it would be immoral for anyone to think of killing it? Well, no, I don't. Not when women aren't being given the information they need to prevent unwanted pregnancies, nor the needed availability of desired contraceptives that are FDA approved. And tell me this, if you knew your child had a genetic disorder that they would die from at birth, who is that child's next of kin who decides whether life support should be continued? Is it ethical to mandate that a woman give birth to a child only to watch that child die within minutes? I dare you to see if you can work in a clause that allows a woman to make this difficult decision while also banning abortion.

Just because I have a personal view about myself and my pregnancies and my children does not mean that view extends to all women in all circumstances. How is that so hard to understand?

Our children, or more specifically, our daughters

I found this article about young girls and awareness of their beauty at Newsweek.com yesterday. Yawn. The idea that girls are getting sucked into beauty treatments and being sexy and generally becoming obsessed with their appearance is nothing new. Heck, Club Libby Lu opened their first store almost a decade ago and the whole enterprise has already gone kaput as of this January. But don't you be fooled; this isn't a sign that girls don't want this kind of product and service. Another aspiring capitalist will swoop in to sweep up this market and fill the voided niche just as soon as this recession is over. It might even be Club Libby Lu reinvented by its parent company, Saks Incorporated.

We found out on Monday that we're adding another girl to our family. Of course, this is great. We know how to do girls. Our family is overrun with girls. Boys are not worse, just different, and we have no experience. But the news brings to my mind all the things you have to worry about with girls.

This morning when Grace walked out the front door for the bus, I walked to my bedroom window and watched her cross the lawn. There's so much inside of her, so much history, yet in that moment of her crossing the lawn with her backpack on the way to school, all you see is another typical teen. And I said out loud, "I wonder if I'll worry about this new baby girl as much as I worry about Grace." That about sums it up. Though I've never parented a boy, and though I have no practical idea how that would be different than parenting a girl, I know that with a girl my mind works overtime on all the influences about her.

The Newsweek article brought up one thing that makes me crazy. Tons on ink is spilled on the topic of the oversexualization of girls. Somewhere in each story is a line about how girls are growing up too fast. Yet my mind wanders to another place when I read these diatribes. When do we talk about girls and women as perhaps never being "old enough" for this much emphasis on appearance? So...rearing young girls in a way that makes them grow up too fast is the main issue? That we don't want girls to do these kinds of things until they are older? And when do the tiny women-to-be get time to go to the science museum and find out about law and debate and discover the value of investing and compound interest? Try never. That's what's missing from this story. It endorses the idea that excessive attention to appearance in the female gender is fine, the problem is really that the girls are too young. So smack that to your boys. The next time they talk about entering the science fair in 4th grade or going camping when they're 6 or learning how to shoot a gun or helping out with the oil change or trying to solve a hard logic problem, tell them that they shouldn't do it because they're growing up too fast. They should stick to action figures and tag until they're at least ten.

My husband's consistent comment regarding his soon-to-be-born daughter is, "this girl never wears pink." He even told Grace. Grace laughed. I told him I had no idea where it starts. With Grace, I was like every good-intentioned mother -- pink was just another color of the rainbow. The nursery was blue and yellow, and she was just as likely to be seen in jeans and a white t-shirt as she was in a pink outfit. But somewhere in childhood, the obsession with pink began. By the time she was 10 or 11, she owned tons of pink clothing. Her room now is BRIGHT PINK. Yeah, there's some orange and yellow and red mixed in, but make no mistake about it, her room is PINK. Since she was the one requesting these things, I let her do it. After all, what is worse for a girl's sense of empowerment, her love and desire for the color pink or her mother telling her that she can't make her own decisions?

When I was with family over Christmas holiday, my nieces and nephews were all watching WALL-E. When Eve first enters the story, my youngest nephew (5 years old) started explaining to me how WALL-E is starting to fall in love with her. I asked him (innocently enough), how do you know that WALL-E is a boy and this other robot is a girl? At first he said they sounded like a boy and a girl. I told them I didn't think so, they just sounded like robots to me. Then he explained that it becomes clear later in the movie. I left it at that. A little while later I asked the grown-ups the same question -- how do the children know that WALL-E is a boy and Eve is a girl? There were a few theories. Eve looks like an egg. (And 5-year-olds pick up on this gender-specific referent?) Eve is smooth, shiny, and clean, and WALL-E is rough and dirty. (Interesting gender-specific assignment of personality traits, there.) Then I noted that Eve was a pretty powerful little beast, basically spending her first few minutes on camera blowing up things and whizzing around. No comments. (Apparently those are not traits associated with girls.)

So whether you like it not, kids get messages about who they should be based on their gender. You can try to block it. Unplug the tv, monitor the clothing, watch the way people address kids and the talk they hear, read the right books, note the inconsistent messages, and on and on it goes. But sooner or later kids notice the world around them.

In light of this, I wonder how I can do anything more other than hope that my children's minds can think outside of the traditional gender role assignment box.

Another way for me to flip the tables

I know, I know, you have all heard about these events. What events, you ask? Well, they go by several different names, but the central concept is still the same. These formal father-daughter events in which a girl pledges her purity and her father pledges to protect her until marriage. I've read a lot about these things, really, and I have heard every angle by which this could be scoffed. If you're unfamiliar with the phenomenon, here's the most recent story I read, published last fall at abc.com.

As I read about the idea again, I found myself not incensed, but asking what seemed like the most obvious question. Why aren't the mothers taking their sons to these kinds of events?

You know, it's not that hard to imagine. She would use the event to proclaim how she has nurtured and cared and protected him since his very existence and how she intended to continue that protection until his marriage, and he would pledge to her that he wouldn't go spreading his seed around unless he first cleared it with his mom. You could even say he needed to go to her about any decisions he was considering regarding marriage.

Is that too radical? Maybe it has to do with the reversal of roles and the idea that people are uncomfortable with a mother lording over her son until he's married. Especially when it comes to his sexuality. OK, so let's see if we can accommodate that.

The fathers should bring their sons to such an event, and the sons should pledge their virginity to their fathers until they are married.

Still seems weird?

Right, that's what I thought. It's a double standard. The little girls are protected and they are little princesses because that's noble and godly, but to do so to a son would be weird and freaky. I think I'll feel better about this whole thing when I see Father-Son purity camping weekends. Still takes moms completely out of the picture as caregivers and protectors, a strange omission, but at least the sons would be overtly held to the same constraints as the daughters regarding their behavior.

Fatherhood part 3: Parenthood sneaks up on you when you least expect it

When my husband and I first started dating, he was unlike anyone I had ever been with before. When he speaks, it means that he has something important to say; he doesn't just go on and on without thinking first. He is careful in his choices; he likes to have things that are not too expensive and worth what you pay for them. He didn't shower me with gifts; occasionally he brought me small treats, like two or three chocolate Lindor balls.

I knew he cared for me through the small things he did. For instance, I moved away from Michigan to Maryland for grad school after we had been dating about 3 months. He was in Brazil at the time, teaching a course for four weeks. He left about 10 days before my moving date. Before he left, he purchased several calling cards for me and gave me clear instructions on how to reach him. Then we spent about 2 hours learning a little Portuguese so that when I called I could say who I was and ask for him. And so that if he wasn't home, I could understand what the person on the other line was saying to me. More or less. He explained that phone calls from Brazil to the US are way more expensive than the other way around, so he made it possible for us to talk while he was gone without breaking the bank. I spent the morning he left for the trip at his apartment with him while he packed and got ready, then we left for the airport and I told him goodbye, knowing we no longer would live close to each other at all. His trip to Brasilia took 24 hours that trip. We had arranged for me to call him a few days later, once he was settled and had gotten a chance to visit with family. 24 hours later I got a call on my cell phone from an unrecognized number. It was him. He said he couldn't wait to talk to me and wanted to tell me that his trip was a safe one. I was elated and the 10 minutes passed far too quickly.

Or sometimes he showed that he cared for me through the not so small things that took an enormous amount of caring to do. Like one time when we first starting dating, we went to conference out of town together. I was the conference organizer, so I spent every day running around, taking care of every little detail, and getting very little sleep. Late one night I discovered that I had left my reading classes on the other end of the university campus from the dorm where I was staying, and I had a lot of reading to do the next morning. It wasn't really a great idea for me to walk across campus so late, and I was physically exhausted. I couldn't move one more inch. I felt defeated. My husband was having knee trouble, bad enough trouble that a couple months after this conference it required an MRI and some physical therapy. But at that moment when he saw me falling apart, when he knew I couldn't do any more, he told me to rest and relax, that it would all be fine. He gave me a kiss and turned out the light. An hour later he came in with my glasses and quietly put them next to me while I slept. He had walked about 2 miles to get those glasses and limped for the next two days. I had to drive home he was in so much pain.

A man of few words, but words that count, who demonstrates his caring and affection through his everyday actions and activities.

That man is about to become a father for the first time later this year. It's been a long road to get here, and we are relishing every moment of the waiting together. But his parenting isn't just starting now. It started a long time ago. First as a godfather to a nephew being raised by a single mom, and then as a stepfather to my daughter Grace. So it seems kind of strange to say, what kind of a father will he be? In many ways, he has been a father for many years already. And in a way, the parenting he's so far has been the hardest parts. He didn't ask to become an ad hoc father-figure when his sister left her husband after he was cheating on her. But he did. He completely took over, even going so far as to bring his nephew to his apartment to stay when his mom was working at night. Dinner, bath time, homework, bedtime, everything. When he was a 25-year-old bachelor. He did it because someone needed to do it. When he fell in love with me, he knew there was a little girl involved in the picture. He didn't have to be a father to her or to be responsible for any part of raising her. But again, he realized that she needed someone to help her, and I needed someone to help me parent. So he stepped in, giving her rides to school, packing her lunch, attending school conferences and orchestra concerts (no matter how painful those early ones were!), and generally being available. For a long time, I was hesitant to let him do this. I thought, it's not his job, it's MY job. I wanted to make sure that I was always able to do it, and he was just doing these things because he wanted to, not because I needed him to. But as most single moms can tell you, I needed him to help. There were days when I fell down and I really needed someone to pick me up and help me out.

When we lived far away from each other, I was having some horrible medical problems. Both pain from fibroids and migraines. The migraines were (and still are, when they aren't properly medicated) very, very bad. Lights out, no sound, me in bed in agony. What is a man to do when he's 500 miles away? How can he help? He would call Grace and talk to her. He would ask her how I was doing. He would tell her how she could help me, like getting me juice and keeping the house quiet. Then he would ask her how she was, what did she need. He would ask her about what she could make for dinner. Together they would find leftovers in the fridge or something else easy she could make on her own. He would talk her through the whole thing, because Grace was afraid of being downstairs by herself at night. And he would often times stay on the phone with her until it was time for her to go to sleep, making sure she was in bed with the lights out and had her alarm set for the next morning.

He was careful with her. He didn't assume that she really wanted to have her mother get remarried, much less to have a relationship with her mother's husband. He said he would be there and he would help her, and if she wanted to start getting to know him better, she knew that she always could. It took a long time. It's still taking a long time. But he was and still is patient. For him, their relationship, should they choose to have one, should be based on genuine feelings, not on a pretend display of affection that was mandated just because he wanted to be with her mother. He's always there and always available for her.

He wants them always to have respect for each other. If nothing else, that is important to always have. So when you come in the house, say hello, and when you leave, say goodbye. Greet each other in the morning and say goodnight when the day is done. When someone does something for you, say thank you, and when you need them to do something for you, phrase it in the form of a question, not "I need X."

As a parent, you may get angry, you may be insulted, you may believe that the child has no concern whatsoever. Though you don't hate the child or stop caring about them, you feel like whatever ill-will comes their way is deserved and hopefully it will teach them a lesson. But overall, it is best to be calm. Don't resort to yelling or using insulting language. Don't be sarcastic. As a parent, you do have the right to express how you feel about the way your child hurt you and others around you. And sometimes, it's exactly what a child needs to hear.

Sometimes, many times in fact, it is good to let children make their own mistakes. Big mistakes. Mistakes that really put them up a creek without a paddle. One of two things will happen. Either they'll realize what their mistake was and do whatever it takes to correct it, or they will come to you and ask for help. Earnestly. And with humility and an apology. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get both. But if you save the kid before they get themselves into a big mess, they won't learn not to do it again.

He has a way of looking at things in a balanced way. I think he is much more balanced than I am. I know he is calmer than I am.

It's hard to say how one becomes the parent they are. It's partly your personality, partly an expression of your values, partly what you bring to the table from your own experience of being parented, and some other stuff mashed in there that you don't know where it came from. I don't care how much someone says they've got their parenting philosophy down, the truth is that you become a parent with zero experience. Whoever it was that was your guinea pig, whether it was your nephew or your godchild or your younger sister or your step child or your biological child, you started rearing children without any prior experience. You make mistakes. But sometimes you're lucky enough to have some luck with factors that don't come from parenting directly.

It's a coincidence in my life that I've had three men who were great parents, my husband, my dad, and my grandfather. It's nothing inherent about being a father that makes them good parents, it's just who they are. I believe that who I am as a woman was greatly shaped by the way the men in my life made me feel positive about being a woman. I don't think they were trying to do that; I think they were just trying to be good parents, no matter the gender of the child.

As I've reflecting on these traits the last few days, I've come to realize that they are some parts of what makes a good parent that I have been missing. So I'm trying to learn by the example of others around me and move forward little by little. Like we all do in the task of being a parent.

Feminists opposing abortion rights

I came across this recently:

http://www.feministsforlife.org/

I've read through a great bit of what this movement has to say. I only know one person who is really invested in this ideology. It catches my attention because it doesn't strike me as endorsing the same brainless banter that usually encircles anti-abortion movements. Yet I can't wrap my head around it.

You know where I stand on this stuff. But I'm curious on your take. Did you know about this stance? What would you say if someone you really believed was a thoughtful person said that this best characterized their stance on feminism and on reproductive rights? Is this threatening? Naive? Creative? Empowered? And yes, I am AM interested in differing views. I'm truly trying to understand this movement and if it can be embraced outside of a religious framework.

The Weekly Slug: 13w and some days

I'm somewhere in my 13th week of pregnancy and, much like when your child hits two years old and you get sick of telling people her age in months, I've tired of saying how many weeks and days I'm pregnant. We all know that there is no way I'm going to term with this pregnancy anyway because of my myomectomy for fibroids last summer and the three new fibroids that are growing in my uterine wall every day. So this week we'll just call this 13 weeks and that I've started the second trimester. From here on out, it's just weeks. Done.

I'm looking more and more pregnant by the day. If I was a pregnant teen, I could mask the whole thing by wearing baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts. Of my boyfriend. Who would have been the one who knocked me up. And I'd slump a lot. Then no one would be able to tell I was pregnant for another two months at least.

But as it is, I'm not a teenager. I'm 20 years past that. I go out every day in my town where you're almost certainly bound to run into someone you know.

As far as wearing comfortable clothing, that problem is taken care of. The weather is warming up, so I've mostly solved the problem I had of a few weeks ago where I was feeling uncomfortable wearing tights or long underwear. I went to wearing maternity clothing exclusively last week, which feels great too.

But sooner or later people are going to start noticing that my bustline above the empire waistline is indeed smaller than what's protruding below my waistline.

It's not that I mind telling family or close friends. We've told my husband's family already and I've told two of my closest friends. I'm waiting to tell my family because one of my sisters just bought her first house and I don't want to steal her thunder. But in another week or so I'm sure we'll share the news.

It's not that I'm ashamed of being pregnant. I could go on and on about how ridiculous it is that in the United States everything surrounding pregnancy and childbirth are relegated to the closet because it's clear evidence that women have sex (gasp! no! the horror!). When I was nursing Grace, I just told everyone to get over it. I wasn't going to go to some dirty closet somewhere or suffocate my baby under a blanket and watch her break out in sweaty hives just because people couldn't accept that she was a baby that needed to eat. I nursed for almost a year. As far as my being pregnant with Grace, well, there was the issue with my shotgun wedding and conservative religion and how most people around me treated my pregnancy as something shameful. But I gotta tell you, once I found out I was pregnant, it never occurred to me that I should hide it. I'm pregnant, for God's sake. Why should anyone have an issue with that?

So....what's up now? Why don't I just want to say, hey, I'm pregnant! I think it has to do with my maturity. When I was young, my life was an open book. I told everyone everything. Nothing was a secret. What we had for dinner last night, how much sleep I got, how many times I went to the ER as a kid, what my relationship with my parents was like, how much I paid in rent...I was like one big walking meme. My list of 25 random things about yourself that you're supposed to make, the one that's been running around the web the last month or so? In those days, my list would have been more like 50 and as detailed as I could possibly make them.

I'm more private now. I don't tell people very much at all. I like to be a bit private about my personal life. I mean, sure, I have confidants and people who are close to me. They know a lot. But the people in my every day life are really just acquaintances. They could be my facebook friends, but not my friend friends, you know? Even if they were my friends on facebook, I'd put them in a special group that doesn't get to see stuff about my family and personal life.

Being pregnant is like broadcasting your private life to everyone who sees you. You are expecting a baby. It's about your health and your past and your future and everything. Worse, when you're pregnant, people feel like they have permission to ask you about it, comment on it. But if it were up to me, I'd just keep it to me. Like if I were adopting, I probably wouldn't tell anyone except close friends. I know the same would be true if I were trying to conceive with a little help from fertility treatment. When I was having treatment and surgeries the last few years, we told very few people what was up. When I had surgery, people that had to know were told that I was having surgery. But even then I didn't tell them what the surgeries were all about.

So suddenly I'm facing sacrificing that privacy. I don't really like the idea of it. My impulse is to just go about my days and at some point when something about my pregnancy becomes relevant to the conversation, I'll just mention it. Is there any reason why I should just make some announcement at work or in other social circles like I'm coming out of the closet or something? It just seems like it shouldn't be that big of a deal. Yet it is. It's a huge deal to me.

I'm scratching the surface of something bigger here, I just haven't figured out what it is yet.

Ash Wednesday

Lent is here. Here's what I'm giving up for the Lenten season:

• Deeming Christianity a religion that has few redeeming qualities due to the prevailing social values associated with most who practice the religion in the United States.
• Concerning myself with my spiritual state as it relates to other members of my family of origin.

These seem to be things in my life that are interfering with any relationship I might have with God. The explanation of the first sacrifice can be found in some of my previous posts. Instead of making you go through all of the posts tagged "God and Religion" to understand it (if you want the explanation), here are the "best hits" on that topic that I think sum up my feelings about flaws within the Christian church.

more women going to hell (May-30-2008)
If I were ever to consider praying again, it would be at times like these. (Aug-30-2008)
Hypocrisy (Oct-8-2008)
Gay marriage (Nov-13-2008)
Searching for love (Nov-14-2008)
God and Me (Feb-11-2009)

The point is, I think I need to get over the problems that people on earth create if I think God is God. The question of whether I think God is God is one I just hold out there; it can't be answered. There's no way to prove whether God exists or not. So I'm just living in suspended disbelief and going with the whole thing on faith. If God exists, then there's a philosophical argument that leads me to the conclusion that God must be unflawed and good. Given this, the flaws that exist in a religion that claims to follow God are the flaws of people, not God.

That's about as philosophical as I can be in one sitting, so let's move on to the next sacrifice of mine for this Lenten season. This one is much more of an emotional issue. I've recently come to realize that my family is somewhat entrenched in conservative religion. Only a few short months ago I thought differently. I thought maybe my mother was the only one who was still doing that 1980s religious right stuff. But there's a new brand of conservative religion that has swept through my generation and I didn't recognize it. It's the kind of Christianity that permits Sarah Palin to say she's a feminist. Well, it seems that I'm the only one in my family who thinks WAY outside the box on social issues as they relate to Christianity, much less the one who has the guts to question the whole enterprise as a valid pursuit. In such a climate, I find myself judgmental, deeming people to be short-sighted, simple-minded. Shallow.

Now, I'm going to be careful here. When I first started reading blogs and blogging myself, I quickly saw a big hole bloggers sometimes unknowingly dig themselves into. You put a blog out there in the vast sea of the world wide web, you're anonymous, and you're venting. You say all kinds of things. About your mother and your brother and your neighbor. And your boss. And then...someone finds it. It spreads like wildfire. The next thing you know, everyone you never thought would find you blog is reading post after post, becoming more and more incensed by the minute. Given this, I'm not going to go on here about my family and how I disagree with their views in general, much less their individual views on God and religion. As it is I'm already a black sheep given my views on God and religion, and the members of my family don't know the half of my feelings. The last thing I need to do is to start bad-mouthing each of them on my blog as well.

But what I put on my blog and what I do in my every day life are two different things. If I spend two hours on the phone talking to someone and debating whether contraception should be readily available based on what God intended for mankind, and then spend the next two hours angry about that, what have I accomplished? How have I grown?

The point is, I not only stunt my growth by doing this, I regress. I find myself running the same angry speeches through my mind and, in the end, I don't solve anything. If there's one thing about my family I can say for sure, each one of them is just as vehement about their beliefs and just as convicted to argue over their truth as I am about my beliefs and opinions. Further, I find myself defeated, feeling like an outcast. I feel like it's not ok to disagree and it's not ok to be a dissenter. Eventually, I feel devalued merely by engaging in the mental activity of considering how my values and beliefs differ from those of my family's.

So in moving towards the purpose of growing as an individual and pursuing a relationship with God, I am giving up being judgmental for Lent. Instead I will focus on me and how my values work in a relationship with God.

a question for all those out there who have been in a stepfamily

The first stepfamily I had any interaction with was the one my ex-husband built with his now-wife. During those early days, the stepfamily consisted of the two of them as they moved towards marriage and my daughter Grace. Pretty quickly, Grace had a step-aunt (who was a mere year older than she was), a step-uncle (who was in high school), step-grandparents, and a step-great-grandmother. Aside from the fact that all these relations were gained while Grace's father was actually still married to me, the whole thing confuzzled me a bit. Is the step-relation transitive?

The second stepfamily I experienced was the one my husband and I built. Up until recent days when we realized a new member would enter our family this year, the stepfamily consisted of me, my husband and Grace. My husband was easily adopted into our extended family, as he's the only uncle my nieces and nephews know. And since I'm the only wife he's ever had, his niece and nephew that were college-age before I met them face-to-face readily call me their "tia" (aunt).

But there was a bit of a glitch when it came to his family's relation to Grace. Would my husband's mother be Grace's step-grandmother? Ah, no. No way. See, there's a language-specific explanation and a cultural explanation for this. The relation of "step" in Brazil is not exactly a nice one. There's a word for stepmother and stepfather, as well as an extension for stepdaughter and stepson. But it's not exactly something that's used if you like the person. Usually a "madrasta" (stepmother) is the woman your dad married after he cheated on your mother and left your family. A "padrasta" (stepfather) is someone who settles for less, that is, marrying a woman who's already been married and had children with another man. Stepfathers are virtually nonexistent in Brazil, at least as far as identifying themselves as such goes.

When talking about Grace in Portuguese, my husband refers to Grace as my "filha" (daughter) or his "filha." But never, no way, not in a million years, would he call her his "filhastra" (stepdaughter). It would be an insult for both of them. It would communicate that he doesn't consider her his own, that she is out of his care, that she is a bastard child. Whereas I'm sure that what I've given so far you makes you believe Brazil has the most sexist culture in the world, one thing is for sure -- a young girl who doesn't have a father to look out for her in that culture is in for a difficult time. For my husband, though he realizes that he is not her father, his role in her life is to protect her and provide for her as if she were his biological daughter. To do less would be like throwing her to the wolves.

Now, on to the rest of his family. When we visited Brazil the first time, we attended mass with my mother-in-law. She was beaming and so elated that we were there with her. She did what all proud mothers do, she introduced us to every single one of her friends and acquaintances. She made sure we met her priest. She brought us to the icons and prayed for us while holding our hands. One of her good friends approached her smiling, saying that this must be her son and his family. My mother-in-law introduced each one of us. Her son, her new daughter-in-law, and her new daughter-in-law's daughter. The friend said to her that she must mean her new granddaughter. My mother-in-law wanted to be clear and said that she treated Grace like a granddaughter but really, Grace wasn't her granddaughter. Her friend said plainly, "she is your son's daughter, so she is your granddaughter." End of story.

Grace is a cousin to my husband's nieces and nephew. Grace is the niece of his brother and sisters. And when Grace talks about them, she calls her aunts and uncle "tia" and "tio," and she says her stepfather's nieces and nephews are her cousins. Granted, this is after one of my sister-in-laws teased her mercilessly for days about being Grace's "tiastra." This would be about as bad as calling her one of the evil stepsisters from Cinderella. The word "tiastra" doesn't even exist; my sister-in-law made it up just to be funny and call attention to the ludicrousness of her being anything other than Grace's aunt.

Now, in our stepfamily, we get the advantage of a language and culture that pushes us into dropping the whole "step" label. But I ask you guys out there, what's the connotation of "step"? Is it negative in American culture and in English? Beyond this, how far does the label go? Like with the little sister of Grace's stepmother, I feel like it's just silly to call her a step-aunt. I mean, if she were her aunt, it would kind of be a family joke that two girls that are of the same age would have an aunt/niece relationship; but under the circumstances, it just seems like Grace should either call her an aunt, a friend, or her stepmother's baby sister. And when Grace used the term "step-great-grandmother" for the first time, I just about burst out laughing. If she's a great grandma, then just call her a great grandma; if she's just someone related to your stepmother who you hardly know but you need to give a name to, why not just refer to her as your stepmother's great grandmother?

I have an enormous extended family, going several generations back and expanding by the day. By some miracle, we actually all keep in touch. When I explain how someone is related to me, they are either an aunt or uncle, or a cousin. We don't worry about anything other than that. If the cousin happens to be the age of my grandmother, I just call them by their first name and add "Miss" or "Mister" out of respect. Further, I don't make exceptions for people who are the children from a previous relationship not including one of my blood relatives. All those people are just cousins.

For me it seems like the whole "step" label should go only so far. Yeah, use it when you need to clarify things, like when people ask why my daughter doesn't speak Portuguese since her father obviously is a native speaker. But outside of this, does it really matter to my sisters-in-law that Grace's DNA doesn't resemble theirs? Not really. But since I was never a kid with many step-relatives, I'm putting the question out there for you guys to vet. What do you think? How far is it reasonable for the label to apply? How distant of a relative? For how many years?

Am I a Christian?

Here's a question I hate for people to ask me:

"Are you a Christian?"

For those who know the answer to this question for themselves, the response is clear -- either yes or no. And I suppose most people who have given the question serious thought know their answer -- either yes or no. But I'm an exception. I have given the question very serious thought, and I don't know the answer.

On facebook there is a field you can enter for "religious views." I've looked through what people put in this field. Few people leave it blank. Most of the Christians put either "Christian" or the specific denomination of Christianity they subscribe to. There are a handful of people who are part of more independent evangelical movements who get creative. They put things like "I love God!" or "Jesus Follower" or "Jesus is my Savior and Friend." I think identifying your religious views this way is intended to separate a relationship with God from the more negative association with religion. The idea being that first and foremost, a relationship with God stands, and the religion that forms out of those with a common belief in what that relationship entails is secondary.

Back to me. "Are you a Christian?" I guess the answer is simple for most because it boils down to a few brief questions about Jesus and one's relationship with Jesus. Jesus is God, and either you have the "right" relationship with Jesus (thus you are a Christian) or you don't (thus you are not a Christian). But what makes it the "right" relationship is a matter of great debate among Christians.

My mom subscribes to a doctrine of predestination. The issue is interesting if you're into theology and such, but otherwise it's pretty much a moot point. She really believes that the legitimacy of person's salvation in Jesus Christ should be in question if they don't believe in predestination. So....that eliminates a lot of people who, for her, are not really Christians. Let's move on to an issue closer to home, one I've brought up here more than once. What is the role of women in a church? In a marriage? As a parent? As a single adult? For some Christians out there, the answers to these questions can be a deal-breaker. If you don't know and obey the Godly teachings of men's and women's roles in the kingdom of heaven, then you may not be part of such a kingdom. An even more sensitive issue? Homosexuality. There's some Christians out there who don't consider homosexuality a sin, and in fact some of them even condone child adoption by gay couples and same-sex marriage. But for a lot of Christians out there, this just goes to far. If you're speaking in favor of homosexuality, you can't be a Christian. And if a fellow brother or sister in Christ comes to you and points out your error and you still don't turn from your sinful mistakes, then it is doubtful that you are a Christian.

There are other issues than this, hundreds more. I just list these to give you an idea of how tough it is for me to figure out what the real important issues are in deciding whether I'm a Christian or not. When someone asks me if I am a Christian, I never know what the right answer is because I don't know what the real deal-breakers are. I don't pretend to know the right answer, and a lot of people more educated than I in theology and Christian religion have told me that my ideas of what makes someone a Christian are wrong. So, I guess the gospel according those people says I'm not a Christian. But still, I'm not sure.

In my mind, I've been debating whether I even have a relationship with God to begin with. My conversations with God in the last few weeks have ranged from, "I'm not sure whether we're even meant for each other" to "I'm not sure I can get into this knowing that you're really powerful and all and I'm, well, not." I really don't know how to talk to God or (dare I say it?) pray to God, because most of what I was taught was something like being a Jedi. There's a weird kind of way people within Christianity practice prayer as a kind of manipulation of that which they cannot alter by their own power. My mom says she gets upset if something's going on in my life and I don't tell her, because then she didn't have the chance to pray about it. So, like, what, if she had known, she could have practiced her voodoo Jedi-magic to try and persuade God to do things the way she thinks they should go? I told God, I can't do that; I just cannot do that. If having a relationship with God means that I use God's power for something I want, then that seems really twisted. So I'm not doing that at all, and if God holds those kinds of relationships then I can't accept this whole thing.

Ash Wednesday is two days away. Aside from hearing about how everyone in Brazil is partying up until this day, Ash Wednesday marks the start of the Lenten season in the Christian church worldwide. As I understand it, I'm supposed to, if I'm a Christian, consider some way in which I will deny myself something. I'm supposed to be thoughtful and reflective, and consider my relationship with God. Jesus did the same thing during his 40 days of fasting in the desert, praying, and also being tempted by Satan. I'm not even touching the Satan part, 'cause I got enough to wrestle with just with God.

One Lenten season when I was in middle school, my church sponsored this churchwide 40-day program with tasks to do every day. There were big things you had to do, like confront someone in their sin. You had to give up something you loved. You had to keep a daily log of your thoughts and then share them with a teacher or parent. After 2 weeks, I stopped it completely. My mom made me feel like I was sinning for not doing it. I felt sort of badly, but not badly enough to pick it back up where I left off. That's the last time I observed Lent in any material way.

My husband and I and Grace are going to attend Ash Wednesday services at a local episcopal church that practices Christianity as it most closely resembles my beliefs.

So, what to give up? What to sacrifice during this season? I tend to think that for me it's got to be less about material things and physical things. I could do something like give up Coca-Cola or coffee, or sugary sweets. I could even give up indulgences like eating out or junk food. But I'm not inspired by these choices because giving up those things doesn't hold any further significance for me other than making me feel deprived. Instead, I feel like the sacrifice should be more emotional, something in my thoughts, or a commitment towards some change that will better my mind and soul, not just my body. I'm not sure how to make that more precise yet, but I want to make it more concrete and set a real goal for Lent. Ideally, it would be something that makes me more able to understand my relationship with God.

I've got two days to go, so I'll think some more.

God and me

I'd be remiss to not tell you guys about some thoughts I've been having about God.

We've had a complicated relationship, me and God. I've been dealing with it since before I can remember. For several years I wasn't even sure God was someone. I still don't know. But I'm reconsidering the idea. I'm trying to suspend disbelief and see if I can figure out where we stand on our relationship with each other.

Quick background: I grew up in an ultra-Christian, ultra-conservative (religiously and politically) home. We went to church every week. When I was in second grade, I started going to a private Christian school that endorsed the same ideas that my family valued. By the time I was in middle school, I realized I had a weekly event I attended at my church every single day except Mondays.

My disillusionment with parts of religion began in high school. I saw the situation as one I needed to work through with God. I looked forward to the day I could leave home for college and maybe attend a different kind of church. That I did. I went to another ultra-Christian, ultra-conservative private university in a hyper-religiously-stoked town. I met and married a man who came from a deeply entrenched Southern Baptist heritage. In the midst of this as a growing young adult, the flaws in this set of world values started becoming glaringly obvious.

But still. There was God.

I stopped worrying about God altogether after I divorced my first husband. I figured the scores of wrongs I could see with the church couldn't possibly be the result of a good God. If the Christian church in its hundreds (maybe thousands) of sects couldn't get good right, and if this church is the voice of God on earth, then I couldn't possibly imagine that God was good. More accurately, I wondered whether this God I had imagined I had been conversing with all those years even existed.

So now to the present. I started this blog thinking it would be equally about figuring out my daughter and myself. Quickly it became apparent to myself (and I suppose those of you out there reading) that the blog was really about figuring me out. And then quite unexpectedly, I realized my complicated relationship with God had a lot to do with figuring myself out.

I'll admit that this is probably one of those moments when everyone around me has known something and has been waiting for me to figure it out.

Angela and I have been having some ongoing correspondences for awhile about the true nature of God as it is presented in the bible. She posted a great bit last week about this entitled "Is God Sexist?" I highly encourage all of my readers to visit and read it, and join in on the discussion. For all those skeptics out there who think there's no way God could be anything but evil given the text of the bible, I will give my disclaimer up front: realize there is no right answer. The bible is a text that is highly convoluted. The same Torah has birthed three distinct world religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam), and the inerrancy of that text as God's word has done no less than created ongoing bloody wars and justified all sorts of atrocities throughout history. There are as many different ways to interpret this text (whichever version you choose) as there are people on the planet. So with this disclaimer, I'll jump right in. I'm not looking for the most widely accepted truth, but rather, the truth that makes sense to me given what I know.

You can't prove whether God exists or doesn't. You can't prove that the events described in the bible are true or false. It's not a matter of debate or logical proof; it's a matter of faith.

What Angela brought to me was a picture of God that is not evil or discriminatory. It is a God who has had its image hijacked for the purposes of certain groups. The question is, who is the real God, if such a God exists?

All this to say, I've started talking to God again. God's not talking back yet, so God might be a little miffed at me for staying absent so long. I really can't say that this is unexpected. But I'm trying to figure out what place God has in my life.

Ai-yi-yi.

Stay tuned; I'm sure this is going to get interesting.

I finally figured it out

Stepping back a second, I promise you I will follow up on yesterday's post about my frustration at watching my daughter's struggles. Thank you for all the comments, emails, suggestions, and encouragement. You are all appreciated very much.

I posted a video almost a couple months. Since it's so good, I'll post it here again.



I wrote in that post that when I watched it the first time, I started crying and I couldn't figure out why. I just realized why. Pay attention, it comes fast. The question starts at about 0:13 -- "what if there was an unexpected solution?" Then all the ideas pop up. Then, it hits me. Right there. At 0:32 into the video: "A Girl."

And then the tears start falling and I can't stop them.

Why?

Because I can't stop thinking about Grace after that point. When she was a small girl, just starting on school, I told her, 'you can change the world.' It sounds like hogwash and overdramatic motherese, but for me, I meant it. I told her that she could choose to live her life one of two ways: either you take away from the world and use it up, or you give back to the world and make it a better place than before you arrived.

When she got older and started having trouble in school, she said she didn't want to go to school anymore. I told her this again. 'You have to go to school and learn because you have something to give the world. If you don't give it, the world will do without it.' And I usually cried after she was out the door to school and out of sight.

At that point in the video, I think, Grace is the girl in this world that I can affect the most. What I give her, what I teach her, what I empower her to be and do, this is maybe the best way I can give back to the world. Yes, I could help girls all around the world, but everyone must start at home.

I think this is the crux of my deep emotion regarding her difficulties in school right now. It's that I know she has something to give the world. I want to make sure she has every opportunity to give it, because without her, the world will miss out on something.

And now for something completely different...

I just heard this morning on NPR that President Obama signed into law the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. Yea! I'm a member of the American Association of University Women (AAUW) who has been faithfully petitioning its audience for over a year to contact members of Congress to support this bill.

The law basically says that if an employee can show that they have received lower wages due to illegal discrimination on the basis of gender, they are entitled to lost wages without time limit. Prior to this, the Supreme Court had ruled that the maximum remittance could only be for the 180 days of employment prior to the claim of discrimination being filed.

One step closer to equal pay for equal work! I am so happy to see this!

The "I heart this blog" award :-)

OOOOoooooooooOOOOOOOO!!!! I got an award for the blog! I'm so excited! Dragonflymama at stepmama metamorphoses sent me this award and I am so honored! I've never gotten an award for my blog before! And she said some very nice and touching things about me on her blog when she bestowed the award upon me yesterday. I am very grateful.

Now, my task is to pass it along. I read a lot of blogs and am always looking for new ones that are insightful and fun to read. It was very difficult to narrow down my list and decide who to pass this along to. But after much thought, here are my picks. These are ones I've been reading for quite awhile and that I click onto right away when I see that there is a new post in my reader. When you get the time, check them out!

1. angelawd - This is written by Angela who, despite many trials in life, is consistent in her commitment to walking through each struggle and persevering. She also has a great sense of humor and I love reading about how she's raising two teen daughters with her ever-present husband (the girls' stepdad).

2. coffeeyogurt - always a mix of self-help, opining, and comedy, this blog is sure to make you appreciate the time it takes to smell the roses. She's a psychologist, by the by...

3. Little Miss Sunshine State - It was the name of the blog that made me notice this site, and the writing and perspective that kept me hooked. It's the tales of a New Englander transplanted to Central Florida after her kids made it off to college. Always fun!

4. The Smirking Cat - Cat is a bold, dedicated, mama bear of a stepmom who veraciously seeks to keep everyone in her family safe and healthy. She also is a shameless hockey fan(atic) and does good work in hospice. Besides, I just like her because she was the very first person who ever found my blog and left a comment :-)

5. Mrs. G of Derfwad Manor - If you haven't visited Derfwad Manor yet, you really should. It is a bastion of all the good things every woman should indulge herself in. Mrs. G talks of secret boyfriends, hidden desires, how proud she is of her kids (both teenagers now), and how sometimes she revisits her past and thinks, "what was I thinking?" There's even a discussion of retirement plans, Women's Colony.

To these awarded bloggers, here are the rules:
-post the love award on your site
-link back to the person who sent you the love
-pass it on to a handful of blogs you love by letting them know you've passed the buck to them and linking to their sites
-keep the love flowing and read on!

After more than a year of blogging, I think I'm finally getting to the place where this makes sense to me. Let's continue to connect with each other and support each other in the journey of life! (Oh lord, I'm becoming like the Oprah of the blogosphere I'm so touchy-feely, I swear.)