Another year down

Yesterday was our anniversary. Neither of our children remembered. Oh well--it really isn't a big deal, but I never forgot my parents', so it irks me just a bit that Dej forgot. We dropped Luciana & Hunter off at my parents', so we could go see "Taking Woodstock." I thought it was very good and enjoyed it. M wasn't thrilled with it. There were lots of naked breasts in the movie, which usually makes a movie good for him. Apparently the fact that there were also naked men (full frontal) cancels out the joy of the breasts, so it was a wash for him. One of these days I will figure out all of his strange man rules. I'm so very jealous of those who actually got to experience Woodstock. I was inspired by the movie. I may have missed Woodstock, but I can still find an opportunity to mud slide naked. Good god, that looked fun!

L & H were having a sleepover again last night, so we came straight back to pick the kids up from the parents and had a quiet, boring evening at home with the wild children.

L and I started making a pencil roll for all of her art supplies. She will be working with various types of drawing media, lots of different pencils, different types of charcoal, and ink. We finished it up this afternoon. Both kids spent some time working with the sewing machine, trying to get the hang of sewing a straight line. The pencil roll turned out okay. It's not perfect, which irritates me, but she's very happy with it, and it holds her drawing supplies nicely. L is a kamikaze sewer. She struggled with all the straight line sewing, because she refused to go slowly. She has one sewing speed--slam the pedal down all the way and go as fast as possible (like I drive, I guess). Every time I would tell her to ease the pedal down and go slowly so she could control the fabric and keep the line straight. Every time she floored it and ended up with a crazy, curvy line that had to be ripped out. We finally got it done, though.

I don't know what I was thinking when I bought 2 yards of (vegan) felt for this project. 1 yard would have been more than enough, and now I have tons of brown felt left. Hallie claimed the leftover felt as her very own. I was going to lay it out flat and photograph the completed pencil roll on it, but Hallie looked so snuggly and happy in there, I just worked around her. She and Lila have since been burrowing under the felt and pouncing each other and the other cats. At least the extra felt won't go to waste--it's a very cheap cat toy.

She couldn't quite wait to start working with her pens and india ink, so she busted them out tonight. She's never worked with it before, and I was busy trying to clean up the disaster area we created with our sewing project, so she saw her opportunity. Why wait several weeks until she actually learns how to use them, when she can use a bottle of expensive permanent ink with a complicated pen right this very minute! She had a pressing art project that absolutely required the use of those items immediately! Then she got the acrylic paint out. Once she got everything cleaned up, she brought in the creation that would not wait. I'm pleasantly surprised by the lack of permanent damage to the room.

We had a Petland protest today, and it felt totally like fall out there. Lots of honks and good responses, as usual. Chloe came out and joined us, and since there were no other dogs there today, she didn't feel the need to shout for attention. She was a pretty good girl, but her uncanny knack for tying people up with her leash and tripping them is a little challenging.

Glad my family's back!

Mark and Luciana just returned from their father-daughter camping trip. Sounds like they had lots of fun, and I'm waiting to see pictures. They've been gone since Monday afternoon. The dogs have been particularly naughty, this time--keeping me up much of the past three nights. Maybe tonight I'll finally get some sleep!

Yesterday at the farmer's market, I tried something I have never eaten before. I've seen them at the market for the past few years, but never really knew what they were or what to do with them. It's kind of funny, because Sarita and I have walked past them many times and mentioned that we didn't really know what they were, but Melissa was with us this week. So instead of saying, "hmmm...ground cherries, wonder what you do with those", and continuing to pass by, she walked up and asked. The woman at the booth told us they were good, like berries, and handed us each one. They really were good. Like berries. I'm buying some next week! [Not my picture--copied from Wikipedia.]

This is the adorable little Delilah. I have this empty bird cage in the dining room, because I scrubbed it down and need to return it to the Humane Society. Mark brough Kealy home in it, and I don't use cages, so they have more use for it than I do. Anyway, the door was left open, and Lila thought she'd spend a little time in there observing the world from a different angle.

Our tired little one is up in bed resting and snuggling the cats she missed so badly. She couldn't wait to show me the very special carved wooden pocket knife her daddy bought her. She can only open it and use it in the presence of an adult. Super. M. also proudly announced to me that she is now, "a total pyro-" (maniac). Again. Super. She has a very special huge dragon tattoo on the middle of her chest. She had a lot of fun.

Mark just got everything unloaded and is ready to show me the pictures, so I'm off to see what they've been up to for the past few days.

My breast is not a handle!

Here's a story of being assaulted at peaceful protest by a crazed, pervy Culpepper & Merriweather Circus carnie-guy while members of Evansville Lion's club stand by watching, laughing. Evansville police protect buddies and refuse to make arrest, thus retaining the reputation they've so earned throughout the state. Since I'm lazy and way too verbose, I'm just pasting my official statement here, below. What an adventure!

While photographing the dilapidated animal ‘housing’, Allegrea noticed a small dog, wandering around the parking lot. She called my attention to it, and we both moved closer to watch the dog and see if there was a person nearby who was watching the dog. I asked two small groups of elderly people if it was their dog or if they saw where it came from, and they said, “no”. Allegrea picked up the dog, because leaving the dog to wander the parking lot was too dangerous. She checked the collar tag, which showed the name ‘Peanut’ and had a phone number. There was no rabies tag and no other information on the collar/tag. As we always do in such situations, we called the police department (because there isn’t a local humane society) to come get the dog.

While we were standing in the same spot in the parking lot, one of the circus folk yelled over that it was their dog. As we had been standing there inquiring about the dog for around 10 minutes, and none of them had spoken up, we were a bit dubious of their claim. Small ‘designer’ dogs like Peanut are often falsely claimed, because of their potential resale value and/or breeding possibilities. We told them that we had already called the police, and they were on their way, and if they could show proof of ownership and vaccination, the police would return the dog to them. Various circus folk yelled things at us about stealing their dog, killing their animals, etc. We pointed out that we were standing in the exact same location we had been standing, and the police were coming to resolve this issue shortly. I then asked Rose if she could call again, because it had been nearly 20 minutes since her last call, and I was worried about the way the situation seemed to be escalating—particularly since I had two young children there with me.

This situation continued, and Rose again called the police to see what was taking so long. They said they were en route. Again, still standing in full view, I tended the dog in front of them, telling them what I was doing, so they couldn’t falsely accuse me of anything strange. I told them that I was going to wipe all the goo from the dogs little eyes with a tissue, and proceeded to do so. I then told them I was going to brush off all of the massive quantities of doggy dandruff from his back, and did so. I then said that the dog was cold, and I was going to wrap my sweater around him, and I did so. At this point, we noticed a very strange, disturbing looking man exit the trailer and seemingly beelining toward Allegrea, who was holding the dog. He looked very threatening and had a very drugged-out look in his eyes. This is where things became very weird and happened very quickly. I’m still shocked by the whole thing!

Somehow, without speaking, Les and I knew we had to protect Allegrea and the dog. They are both very tiny. Without a word, we stepped in front of Allegrea to block him from reaching her. We had been standing between two cars in the parking lot, so when Les and I stood shoulder to shoulder, there wasn’t room to pass through to get to Allegrea and Peanut. Allegrea yelled out to him, to not touch her—that she did not want to be touched. As activists, we’ve been trained that, if confronted with violence, we shout clearly that we do not want to be touched and back off. After making our wishes clear, we then become passive and do not touch back. Without stopping or slowing, he kept walking, using his hands to grab and shove me to the side. Les is much smaller than me, and was fairly easily shoved aside. I’m a big, burly girl and it took a bit more effort to move me. I attempted to hold my ground without fighting back at all.

I chose not to fight back, only to resist passively. I’ve been an Animal Rights’ activist for 20 years, and know exactly how it goes, particularly in small towns. Had I attempted to DEFEND myself at all, I knew that as an AR person in a small town, I would be hauled in and arrested for the self-defense. Since we had witnesses (which is unusual in an AR-related physical assault) and a video camera, I felt that as long as none of us offered anything other than complete passive resistance, there would be no room for questions or police misinterpretation.

I don’t have the name of the assailant, so I will hereby refer to him as Mr. CrazyMethGuy. I felt the struggle and shove against my arm, and ironically, he was initially unable to shove me out of the way because he had stepped his full weight on my right foot, right on top of my big toe and the excruciatingly painful bunion that remains swollen and sore. Once he moved his big, dirty foot, I felt his hand on my right breast. It was at that moment that I freaked out. I’m a middle-aged woman, and nobody but my husband touches my breasts, for god’s sakes, so I certainly wasn’t expecting to feel the entire filthy paw of Mr. CrazyMethGuy on my breast. Needless to say, it hurt in a way I can’t really express. He was successfully able to shove me out of the way and get to Allegrea.

There was one, for certain, and possibly two of the Lion’s club members leaning against a car diagonally from us in the parking lot. I remember thinking, why haven’t they moved?! I screamed then, “help!”, “assault”, “we are being assaulted”, “rape”, with each screaming becoming more desperate and angry that these “men” just sat there and didn’t help. It was obvious that there was one crazy man assaulting women who were screaming for help, meanwhile, my children were standing there terrified. I noticed that Allegrea was bent over backwards on the trunk of the car near us, with him on top of her, crushing her and the dog. He had her face smashed sideways onto the car trunk. I started to approach him, seeing at this point that I had a totally clear shot and could have dropped him. Again, I chose not to muck up the issue, certain that the police would arrive at any second.

Despite their lack of help, it never crossed my mind that the Lion’s club members would completely lie about the incident. I chalked up their lack of interference as perhaps due to their advanced age, or lack of ability to physically intervene. I truly never thought a member of a service club and an assumedly productive member of society/law-abiding citizen would condone assaulting women, and in front of small children. It is an embarrassment to the Lion’s International, to Evansville, and to their families, that they would fail to protect women and children, and then lie to cover the violent behavior of a transient, simply because said transient was helping them make money. I’m appalled and disgusted with them, as will be the public and Lion’s International!

Allegrea let go of the dog then, because Mr. CrazyMethGuy was squishing the dog. He had absolutely no regard or interest in whether the dog was being hurt as a result of his crazy, violent behavior. Apparently the dog is important enough to him to assault women who are kindly holding it while waiting for the police, but not important enough to oh, say, return him alive and in one piece. We did care for the dog, so Allegrea let go to protect Peanut.

Rose had to make yet another two calls to the police before an officer finally arrived. He seemed quite happy to see his Lion’s Club friends, but was extremely gruff with us. Despite doing absolutely nothing wrong and taking the high road at every single opportunity, I was spoken to in a very disrespectful, condescending, nearly hostile way. His demeanor, from the start, was completely different with us than it was with the Lion’s club members. Shortly after this, a backup officer arrived from Rock County. She very respectfully and patiently listened to all of the facts, and was professional and well-prepared throughout the remainder of our extended time with the police officers.

I left as soon as we finished with the police, because I had to remove the children from that very unsafe environment. The violent attacker was still at large, as were the other circus folk and Lion’s club members, who continued to pick, laugh, mock, and make rude statements out of the officer’s earshot. I did not trust that the children would be at all safe in Evansville. The remaining members of the group stayed on to finish up the demo. They were harassed by circus and Lion’s club folks the entire remainder of their time there.

I am still sore and bruised as a result of the attack. The police photographed the bruises left on my breast, where Mr. CrazyMethGuy grabbed and yanked. Additionally, my right arm is bruised—also his ‘fingerprints’, and my right foot is sore. My upper body is sore and stiff from pulled muscles. I am humiliated and embarrassed that I was the victim of such an attack, and moreso that I have had to have my breasts photographed and discussed.

---------------------- end of statement

Even worse, though, is Allegrea's condition. Her face is sore and has contusions. X-rays taken today determined that she has two sprains of her back and a jaw injury. It's really hard to remain non-violent when a big crazy man assaults your itty bitty best friend!

I have to add that this circus is the worst, sleazy, rundown, ghetto circus I've had the misfortune to encounter. The animal housing was small and rusty--very trashy. It was immediately apparent why this circus (really more of a carnival with a few sad large animals) has had so many incidents with animals escaping. They've also been investigated for child labor/work camp issues, but moved to another state. I will most certainly be contacting the state of OK to encourage them to investigate the many young girls that are working (and they travel and perform almost every day of the year!) there and living in close quarters with nasty, pervy, drugged out men who may or may not be in this country legally.

Two on Tuesday

At work today I was lamenting that my project list is growing exponentially, putting me further behind every single day. Then panic struck at the realization that the school year is quickly approaching, and I am not prepared for homeschooling or the college class I'm teaching. I have a mere two weeks. This horrible knowledge has thrown me into a manic frenzy. I have worked diligently all night, researching and lining up resources for history and art. I made good progress, but didn't finish, and I still have to finish history and art, language, Latin, science, geography, economics, and music. I may not be able to sleep for the next two weeks! How did I let this creep up on me so quickly without starting my prep weeks ago?!?

I had to stop working on prep tonight long enough to play Luciana's Wizardology game. She requested last night when I tucked her in, that all of us play after dinner tonight, so we did. We didn't get to finish in time for bed-time reading, so we put the game up and will finish it tomorrow.

Anyway, tonight's 'two' are interesting science facts.

1. Messages from your brain travel along your nerves at up to 200 miles an hour.

2. In outer space, liquids become sphere-shaped.

A slight misunderstanding

Tonight, while L was in the bath tub (she likes me to sit there and talk to her):

L: Has anyone drown in a bathtub like this?
*Knowing that they have, because we've talked about it multiple times*
Me: Of course they have, honey. You know that.
L: But usually like babies or really old people?
Me: Usually, but anyone could slip in the tub and hit their heads just wrong and drown.
L: But usually that would be like babies or old titties?
Me: WHAT? Did you just say TITTIES?
L: Yeah, daddy says that.
Me: Daddy says "Old titties?"
L: Yeah, like when he's driving.
Me: Ooohhh...Do you mean "old BIDDIES?"
L: Yeah, biddies, that's it.
Me: *laughing*
L: What's titties?
Me: It's another word for breasts, but it's a rude word.
*and one of the few rude words NOT used around this house.
L: *laughs sheepishly*

Happy 'gay day' :-D

Yesterday we took Nala in early in the morning to get her stitches removed. She left us today, and I'm still all stuffy and weepy about it. She will be very happy with her new family, once she gets over wondering where her family (us, especially Luciana) went and why she was dumped yet again. I need lots of distractions, so I don't cry all the time.


After Nala's vet visit, we (Mark, Luce, Hunter, and I) went to Madison to celebrate India's independence. L's dance school, Kalaanjali, was performing. We ate some great Indian food, although it was almost to hot to enjoy it! The mango juice really hit the spot! L & I both got henna mehndi on our left hands. I don't know how that poor woman could sit out in the baking sun all day, in all those clothes, drawing with henna. It looked better than any of my efforts!

There was no shade out there, and it was miserably hot. As I was waiting in line, I looked around and couldn't help but notice that the Indian women still looked great. They had on more clothing than I did, particularly the dancers. They had layers of clothing on, jewelry, makeup, and black hair, yet still managed to look dry and beautiful. I on the other hand, looked like a melting wax figure. I was all sweaty--wet, red, and shiny is not a good look.

We were going to go to the gay pride celebration afterwards, but everyone was hot and crabby. Mostly Mark, though. He was the crabbiest one. It's not fun to do things when he's all sulky and grouchy, so we just came home.

L had dance class today, which is in Madison. After dance, we decided to go to the gay pride celebration today. Somehow, out of "gay pride celebration", L & H got "gay day". All weekend they would talk about, "when we go to gay day", which cracked M & I up for some reason. We had a great time at "gay day" today, and the weather was much nicer. The celebration was on Willow Island at the Alliant Energy center complex, and it's such a nice environment there. We got to see lots of turtles sunning in the pond today.

Jamerika had a both there, so we got some good Jamaican veggie food, and enjoyed a few beers. We watched the drag show, which L absolutely loved. We couldn't tear her away from it. It was a lot of fun, with good music and dancing and a fun crowd. It's such a fun and relaxed place, with a very diverse group. We tried our hardest to get M to take a tip up to the stage to one of the drag queens, but he apparently hadn't had enough beer to go for that one. It would have been the picture of a lifetime! L is still calling her daddy a wuss-man, because he wouldn't tip a queen.

There were families there of all possible configurations. Families are made by love and commitment, and that is something that none of the homophobic assholes and no laws can take away. I love being at places where people are not worried about any prescribed social mores, and are able to just be who they are without any self-consciousness. Men in undies, sailor hats, and boots; women in chaps; and very blurred gender lines; kids with moms & dads; kids with moms & moms; kids with dads & dads; kids with mom & mom & dad--it was awesome. Oh, and lots of cute dogs. I wish we had brought our pups. I love that my child is totally comfortable with that and that is 'normal' to her. I wish the whole world was that way! I'm more comfortable with the GLBT community than I am with any other than the AR community.

My laptop is at death's door and unfortunately can't be fixed. I'm so upset and frustrated! I don't have money for a new one either. I went to bed Friday night, and it was just fine. I got up and opened it up Saturday morning to find that the display has a huge crack that wraps around three of the four sides. The liquid crystal is leaking, making much of the screen unviewable. It looks like ink is smeared around, and it's spreading quickly. Within a few days at the most, my screen will be completely gone. I will be very sad!

You know what this household needs?

Another cat!

I'm a shit surfer

I just love the coppery pink color of this asiatic lily! I used to have hundreds and hundreds of various asiatic and oriental lilies in the garden, and I loved them all. Then I lost my whole collection due to a fungus. I had to let the soil recover from the fungus and haven't been able to put any liles in for five years, and I have missed them so much! Everytime I see one in another garden, I get a little jealous. I'm SO excited that this fall I get to put lilies in again. I have 225 bulbs to plant, which isn't nearly what I had before, but it's a decent start. Next year I will be frolicking in my lilies again--can't wait!

This morning started out as an adventure. I’ve been very stressed and headache-y this week, and I’m sure the animals have picked up on it. Maintaining our household is so NOT a one-person job—especially with the extra foster dog thrown in the mix. She has a bad bladder infection, which we only discovered at our vet visit yesterday. She just started her antibiotics, which has affected her poo a bit (more on that later).

Despite taking some Tylenol PM last night along with my migraine prescript., I did not sleep well at all! When I was awakened an hour earlier than my alarm was set for by the intense heat my body decided to generate (instead of allowing me the extra sleep I needed), I wanted to cry. Then I noticed the headache had returned. I took more headache drugs and lay there determined to sleep until my alarm went off. I didn’t, because I was still way too hot. So once the alarm went off, I jumped up to start the routine and let the dogs out.

They were naughty and didn’t listen very well, a couple refused to go potty until after they had eaten. It’s gone fairly smoothly in the mornings with them this week without Mark (their usual morning caregiver), but today they were just uncooperative, slow, and irritating. Once I got them fed, I moved on to feeding the cats. At this point, I noticed that some of the soft, glittery cat balls my cats like to play with had been shredded and spread out all over the living room. I wondered which dog left me that mess? I was moving pretty quickly, because I was behind schedule at this point. Still overheated and sweaty with a headache. Then with the cat dishes empty and in my hand, I slid across the large area rug.

I managed to catch and upright myself without falling, but was not looking forward to cleaning up the usual hairball yak my cats like to leave about like little treasures for me to find. Only then did I look down. It was then that I looked down and my drug-filled stomach heaved. It was not a hairball or even bits of plant leaves that they had eaten and yakked. It was a very soft, very nasty, very smelly pile of antibiotic-induced poo that little Nala the foster pup left me. I've certainly mastered performing the shit slide with grace and panache. Next time around I'll go for style. I was so, so grateful that I didn’t have time to kick my flip flops off after I brought the dogs in, like I normally would have. The bottom of my right flippy was completely smeared in stinky poop. A very large section of the dining room area rug was also covered with the poop that I had smeared in really well with my full weight, and spread around as I slipped through it. Lovely. I knew that crying or puking would make my headache and everything else worse, so I tried to keep it together as I started gather lots of cleaning supplies and paper towels.

Oh my hell, it was ground into that rug! I scrubbed and scrubbed and even used a bleach cleaner on my red area rug. I just wanted the nastiness gone. I couldn’t get it clean and had to get myself cleaned up and ready for work. It was then that I decided I’d had enough of the day and just needed to go back to bed for the day. I continued to battle about whether I should go in or not, thinking of how far behind I am on everything, because of my computer dying last week, as I was trying to clean the bottom of my flip flop. I decided to work after all, but I promised myself I would reward myself at the farmer’s market today by getting two yummy apricot bars instead of just one. I had to give up on the nasty shit stain, leaving it soaked in carpet cleaner with a towel over the top of it, until I returned from work.

I washed my hands very well with lots of soap and lots of hot water, finished getting ready and left for work. Still, I just kept feeling like I smelled nasty poop, and just kept washing my hands at work. I think the smell is just mental though, like PTSD from my morning trauma. So after all that, the apricot bar dude wasn’t at the market today. Bastard. I asked at another bakery booth if they had anything vegan, and they had one thing, a chocolate-covered, chocolate muffin. Hell yes! My heart was set on apricot bars, but chocolate would be a good distraction. The chocolate muffin was very good. I still want an apricot bar.

Fortunately, the rest of my day went much, much better than my morning.

My family will be home late tonight. In the meantime, I will enjoy my dinner of fresh fruit from the farmer's market, after I scoop litter, feed the cats, give out medications...

The Feminist Chronicles - part 3

Tonight sucks. I'm upset with my older daughters choices. My husband and younger daughter are gone for a couple of days. He's in IL with his parents tonight, as is Luciana. They will drop him at the airport tomorrow, so he can fly to PA to attend a meeting. She will stay with her grandparents until he returns from PA and then they both come home. As if that's not enough, I typed up my rather disjointed, stream-of-consciousness, unedited post below and decided I just had to get wedding pictures to go with the post. None of my wedding pics are in digital format, they are in high gloss, which doesn't photograph well, so I had to scan them in. I hadn't yet reinstalled the printer driver and software (it's a multi-function printer, so it scans) on to the machine after I wiped the hard drive, so I had to find that cd and install it. Then I got REALLY bummed when I noticed how much skinnier and better I looked in those pics than I do now. And I have a rotten sinus headache. That commences the whinging portion of tonight's post. On to part 3 of the epic feminist post. Oh, and wedding pics. :-D

Marriage brought its own host of feminist issues into my life. It was hard for me to get married. It is something I never intended to do. It wasn’t due to a lack of love or commitment on my part, nor was it anything at all to do with Mark or our relationship. It was the history of, purpose of, and institute of marriage that disgusted/disgusts me. I have major issues, as a feminist, with so much about marriage…where do I even start?

Marriage, historically, was appallingly sexist. It wasn’t about romance or love. It was merely an economic contract in which a male gained ownership of a woman and all her resources. It allowed full freedom to the male, and left the woman completely at his mercy. Anything that is rooted in the concept of women as property is sick, fucked, and should be eliminated and replaced with an institution that is grounded in equality.

Along these lines, women, upon transfer of ownership from their fathers to their husbands, indicated this change of ownership by changing their last name. Slaves had to do the same thing—their last names were changed to reflect their current owner. I’m almost frothing at the mouth from just typing about this, it is such a hot-button issue for me!

Needless to say, I did NOT change my last name when I got married. Because I married a secure, intelligent man, he had absolutely no problem with this. We both agreed that since we each had our very own last name, we didn’t need a new one, and that was the end of that. Now, the last name of the children posed a bit more of a problem. I don’t like the hyphenated name, as it seems unrealistic as a long-term solution to this problem (what happens to the second-, third-, etc. generations who continue to hyphenate the children’s last names?). M wanted the children to carry his last name, and of course I wanted them to have mine. He really wanted the girls to have a hyphenated last name, so they could have both. I really hated that solution.

This was resolved after debating and negotiating for months. There was simply no way that the kids would have only his last name. I endured two hellish pregnancies, childbirth, and the bulk of the early parenting responsibilities. Why would I not pass MY name to my girls? It is completely ridiculous and incomprehensible to me that a woman would give her child only the man’s last name. We do the work. We are inescapably pregnant and have to suffer through all that entails. Even with Mark being a very good, very involved dad, I was still the primary care giver as are most women. So why would we give our children the name of a man who may contribute or may walk away at any point. We can only ever be 100% sure of who the mother of a child is, so again—one more reason to pass down the matriarchal name. Because my husband is a good man whose feelings are important to me, I went along with the hyphenation. Definitely not my first choice, but a decent compromise. Now the girls will have to decide, if they ever have children, what they will do with that hyphenated last name and which name(s) their child(ren) will carry.

I should add that I also believe that paternity testing should be required in every case. I have a number of male friends and relatives who have been duped. For the protection of the handful of nice, cuckolded males, this should be done always. Women lie. Women misremember. Given the technical ease with which paternity can be established, it should be de riguer by now. I also feel it is vital for the children to have complete certainty as to their medical history and genetic weaknesses. This attitude is thought to be anti-feminist by some. Oh well. And for the record, I demanded repeatedly for Luciana’s first two years or so, that M go take a paternity test, so it could be 100% scientifically validated. He refused repeatedly and never did go. If I were a man, I would want the certainty of that test, regardless of the situation. I’m not a particularly trusting person.

I am angry with the feminist movement that this patriarchal naming structure hasn’t been questioned and corrected on a national level. I am disappointed with my sisters for selling out by giving up their names and/or unquestioningly following this antiquated and insulting tradition. It’s thousands of “little things” like this that are accepted and unexamined that feed into the cultural mindset that it’s a man’s world, and we’re just here to make it nicer for them. UGH!!!

I’m even more angry that the feminist movement has dropped the ball so badly when it comes to our child-rearing options. I believed that I could, as a woman, have it all. I went to college and got an education so I could have a rewarding career (and support my child and myself). I spent so many years in agony. I could never do anything but put my child (only one at that time) first, but my career was important. Even with a professional job, where I was supposed to be able to enjoy both career and family, it was a constant conflict. I always felt that my focus was compromised. I would leave my child and spend the day trying to not cry, feeling like my heart was ripped out. I came home from work exhausted, and spent all non-working time trying to make up to my child for the time I was gone and trying to keep up with my house. Having it all sucks. Nobody should have to choose between a career and motherhood.

First of all a six-week maternity leave is paltry and pathetic. We have the worst maternity leave/benefits of the first-world countries. The body does NOT recover from pregnancy and child birth that quickly. The hormones/emotions do NOT recover that quickly. It is simply cruel to put women in that position. Beyond that, it is brutal to the baby, who needs much more of mom’s time at that age.

Once we return to work, life consists of being yanked really hard in too many directions. It wears down our health and emotions, making us less-effective in both career and motherhood, and leaving us permanently fraught with constant guilt over our failure to be great at both. Women should not be faced with taking care of a sick child or keeping her career/job intact.

Redefining the work week, employment benefits, leave time, allowing a woman to be self-sufficient, self-supporting, and a good mother (should she choose to breed)—these are things feminism needs to be working on. Aggressively! It seems that the feminist movement has been playing dead for the last couple of decades.

I joined and held office in AAUW for a few years, but let it go. They’ve done a great job at opening the doors to women in higher education. We now comprise the majority (51%) of college students, and that was a very important battle. That’s been won, now. The problem is that when our young feminists finish college and start their career and decide to have children, our current employment/child care structures aren’t such that they help women to be the best parent and employee both at the same time. I’ve seen so many of my former feminist girlfriends from college, have kids, realize it’s too hard to work and be a mom, so they roll out of feminism right back into the silent patriarchy by giving up their career. Of course it’s their choice to make, but I resent that they are given such limited choices. I will scream from the mountains that feminists certainly can trade their careers for kids, but it is not the best decision for them, their children, or for other women coming up behind them. It is simply NOT safe to completely depend on a man (or anyone else) for care. It puts a woman and her children in a vulnerable and unsafe position, and often forces them to make many other unpleasant choices down the road. This creates a power inequity that can prove difficult or even dangerous for the women and children. I would do absolutely anything—even take another job to support my grown children/grandchildren—to keep my girls from putting themselves in this position. I don’t want them ever completely reliant upon a man’s mercy!

I feel like feminism started a good fight. Obviously we’ve made progress, but we’ve lost ground as well. We still haven’t realized true gender equity. I don’t feel that gender equity is enough though. We are not men. We are different. Our bodies are different. The fact that we can and do become mothers makes us very different. It means that our needs and priorities are different. I want to see feminism create a world where we can be true to ourselves, contribute positively to the world, and still meet all of our children’s needs.

At this point, it feels sometimes as though suffrage was our last major victory. Yes, I know the ERA was very important, but hasn’t been successful with its goals (just look at the pay inequity stats!), and those goals were not enough to create an equitable country. I want so much more for my daughters than the ability to sleep around freely, spend their lives torn between career and children—killing themselves with three fulltime jobs (career, raising child(ren), running a household). I want them to understand that yes, they are sexual beings and there is nothing wrong with taking charge of that, but taking charge of that does not entail ‘putting out’ to everyone who asks or dressing like a cheap tramp. It seems that the sexual revolution was also very, very costly for us as women and very, very beneficial to the men. It seems that most of the feminist efforts have been manipulated into being much more beneficial to men than women.

But just when we should be fighting our hardest, we can’t get our daughters to realize how important it is and just what is at stake. Somehow ‘feminism’ became equated with ‘butch lesbians’, and women are loathe to admit to being feminists. How can a woman proudly announce, “I’m not a feminist or anything like that” (with a slight sneer as the word ‘feminist’ is spoken)? Really? Is demanding equity and respect that distasteful? Is making the world a little bit better for our children and ourselves so disgusting? Or is the disdain based in the horrible thought that someone (read: men) may find you too ‘butch’ or ‘unattractive’ if you speak up for yourselves and the women and children who don’t have the power to speak for themselves?

I have been very lucky in finding balance in my life, but it was not easy. I work part time within my career field. It was ridiculously hard to find part-time professional work. I think that many women, like myself, would be thrilled with the option to maintain their careers on a part-time basis (whether or not they have children, really). I need to use my brain or I become very depressed very quickly. I could never completely give up my career. I am able to have the best of both worlds right now. I have a challenging career but still have the time and energy to be the mother I need/want to be. It shouldn’t be this difficult for women to find balance. This affects all of us, not just lesbians. Even better, while I am at work, my girl is with her grandma, so I have complete peace of mind, knowing my mom is the best possible caregiver for my kids, when M & I are unavailable. I really would like to find a movement (I’ve looked but not found anything) that is working on making it easier for women to find balance in their lives. While I have worked hard, I am aware that I've also been very, very lucky! Others who have worked just as hard are not always as lucky as I have been. I feel really bad about that.

Really, at the bottom of it, feminism for me is pretty simple. I really just wish we could find a way for everyone in the world to be happy and healthy. I know it's childish, but just think how cool the world would be if everyone you encountered, every day was truly happy. I think feminism, simply making a little more room for the happiness of living beings, is one small step in that direction.

But We've Got the Biggest Balls of Them All

That song came on the radio this afternoon, and it's stuck in my head now!

Since Jezebel got featured in the last post, I have to post a Daisy picture now to even things out. I'm pretty sure Daisy would care, if she knew. She notices every single treat or bit of affection given to another animal, and immediately appears to demand her equal share. She's just compulsive about it.

I'm always conscious of posting pics of my babies more than the others. When Dej was younger, she would come to my office from time to time, and every time, she would check out the pictures. She would actually count the photos that I had hanging and on my desk to make sure that there were as many photos of her as of Luciana.

We were running errands this afternoon, and the kids noticed a very big rainbow with all seven colors showing quite distinctly. It was gorgeous! We then noticed that there was a second, lighter rainbow about that one. A double rainbow! I've only seen three of them in my life, including today's. The other two were both out west, which led me to speculate that maybe they only occured out there due to some atmospheric or elevation differences. Today's double shot that theory down. It's the second one Luciana has seen, with the first being out west on vacation last month. Hunter had never seen one before at all. It was a pretty exciting view for all of us!

I've spent much of the last couple of days reading a book that I've heard great things about, "Raising Your Spirited Child". I'm really enjoying it and am learning a lot that will help me with L, H, and some other children in my life. It has also helped give me some insights into myself, which I may or may not share in the near future. I was most definitely a "spirited child", which in my case really meant that I was a child that only parents could love, while I made the rest of the people quite uncomfortable. I'm so grateful that L isn't nearly as difficult as I was (and still am, if truth be told).

This is a photo of Lila. M and I were downstairs, and L was supposed to be upstairs in bed. Lila sauntered up to me to demand worship as she usually does, and I noticed that note on her collar. It says, "Gimme a TREAT". L gets no end of pleasure in sending various animals to me with notes on their collars. I find it pretty funny, too, though I can't logically explain why a child attaching notes to animal collars always makes me laugh, but it does.

Dogs

My sweet little foster pup is stuck in a hospital cage at her vet's office recovering from her spay surgery. I have to wait until morning to pick her up. Luce, Hunter, and I went to visit her tonight for a while. Leaving her was horrible! I won't sleep well tonight. It bothers me so much to know that she doesn't understand why she's there or why her family left her. She's lost so much already. Sure, I know that her life will be a bed of roses from tomorrow on, but she doesn't know that. She only knows what it is right now. Scary? Lonely? In pain? Poor pup. :( Tomorrow, she will be spoiled! Her grandma & grandpa bought her some new toys. They are tiny, cute toys--just right for her.

As I typed the above paragraph, I had to stop several times for dog-related issues. First, I noticed Jezebel chewing on her nylabone, which had blood on the end of it. I stopped to give her a love and explain to her that she shouldn't chew so hard that she bleeds. She does this from time to time, and it really bothers me. She doesn't seem to notice or care. Both dogs take great pleasure in chewing. Anything and everything, so their 'boneys' distract them a bit from their naughty chewing. Meanwhile, Daisy in a typical Daisy move, decides to edge on in and take Jezi's boney while she's distracted with me.

Once or twice a year, Jezi stands up to Daisy's usual pushy, naughty treatment of her. Both dogs know Jezi could take Daisy out if she chose to, but she would never choose that, and they both know that too. Daisy made her move. Jezi, at the speed of light, snapped her head to Daisy's direction, showed her teeth, and growled. Daisy sauntered backward, as if she never even noticed the bone. I gasped and said, "Oh, Jezebel!", she looked embarassed, rolled on her back and whined until I scratched her belly, accepting her apology. Then because everything must be equal with these two, I was rubbing Daisy's little head, while she gazed lovingly into my eyes, and belched. It was a belch that let me know she was outside eating poop earlier. Once the gagging subsided, I gave them each a boney, and now they are relaxing. Ah, life is good.

Chloe has no interest in chewing anything. She spent enough of her early life chewing on metal cage bars. :( She is snoring. She snores like a man. My husband snores like three men. It's really special when I'm in bed, between the two of them, trying to get to sleep.

Oh, one more dog thing, that others may find interesting/helpful. I talked to Dr. Mark about little pup's car sickness. He said that it isn't the same as motion sickness in humans. It is a histamine reaction in dogs that causes them to get sick in the car. Giving them one half of a 25 mg. human Benadryl, a half hour before a long car trip, should prevent the sickness.

Boys to men??

We headed down to the Chicago 'burbs to visit with M's family for the day. His brother and family were here visiting from NJ, so everyone got together. We took the foster pup with us. She got carsick and yakked all over the back seat shortly before we arrived. I felt so bad for her! Other than that, she traveled really well. She hung with Luciana of course, once we got there. She had lots of fun running around and trying to play with the kids (L. and Mark's brother's four children). The kids loved her. She made it home without vomitting--thank goodness. We were prepared for it and had protected the seat and had lots of paper towels with us, but I'm glad we didn't need any of it. I will be talking to our vet tomorrow about what we can do to prevent or minimize her car sickness.

It was entertaining to see M with his two brothers. M is the middle child (and that explains a lot right there, doesn't it?) of a set of "Irish triplets". When the three boys get together, especially if there is any type of sports equipment around, they revert quickly back to early adolescence. It's entertaining for me to watch, but I couldn't help but to feel a little bad for their poor mother. I don't know how she, the lone woman in the house, survived those three boys with her sanity intact. The dynamics of the three boys is so very different than it is with my girls or even growing up with my one brother. It all became so clear, watching those three go at each other yesterday--I'm a substitute for his brothers! Poor, poor Carolyn! ;D

The three 'boys' played croquet with four of the five kids (McKenna isn't quite two yet). The D-boys quickly lost focus of actually progressing in the game, as it was more important to knock their brother's ball as far as possible. A game of catch became dangerous, as I was sitting by Dan, who was not playing but was the target of M's throws. I caught a little collateral damage from that game. Somehow, watching all of the toys become weapons with which to strike one another or out-do the other brothers, I really got a flashback into my husband's childhood. (Not that his present behavior is much different.) Oh, and I also see where his bodily-functions-as-weapons behavior came from. Nobody was injured and nothing was broken. It was a miracle!