2) I don’t really have a theme for this post. Just getting back into it. Hello to my very loyal followers, all 5 of you. It’s been a long time. About a year since I started this blog. Ooh – an anniversary. I like them, as kind of a notch in a bedpost. I’ve been with this blog as long as I’ve been with my current job. A notch in my sanity.

I’ve had another birthday, as we all do. The results of which I’ll get into in my +1 (bonus post!).

3) Speaking of anniversaries or markers, I’ve found myself to be oddly sentimental over beginnings and endings. I’ve graduated from grad school (now there is my excuse for not blogging!). My daughter ended kindergarten. My daughter is starting first grade. It’s a lot to think about for a sentimental ender and beginner. Oh, the anticipation of summer vacation while packing. The sadness while emptying the fridge of an almost full jar of applesauce since the car just can’t fit another thing. Begin, end. Begin, end.

summer as stone in my hand

smooth and round

no end, beginning to see

+1) I’ve read a few studies lately that debunk the myth of the only child. I’ve spent 6.5 years defending the only child. 6.5 years championing life with an only child. If you didn’t know, some people think only kids are spoiled, selfish, unable to share and assume the entire burden of aging parents. Some people believe a life without siblings is child abuse, that the only child is relegated to a life of loneliness. These studies find that this is nonsense. Duh. I read one such study in the WSJ yesterday and I was vehemently shaking my head in agreement and smiling at this lovely life I’ve built of a well adjusted only, 2 well adjusted non stressed out dual income working parents, all while eating my take out lunch, which I get more of since I have only one child and have more discretionary income for take out lunch. And then. Shit.

I’m pregnant. 4 months so now, with a large apple or avocado, according to Babycenter.com email updates.  3 has always been a lucky number of mine. Now it’s 2+1=3….+1. The baby begins to hear this week.Can the bean hear the starts and stops of my typing? The furiousness of my excitement and then the halting of my terror? [delete delete delete] – sometimes I’m at a loss. I can be one of those witty mommy bloggers who bemoans the loss of freedom and income and figure. Or I could blog about finding stylish maternity clothes. But, really, I’m just trying to figure it all out and at this point, don’t have much  witty to add. Which I suppose is adding something else entirely. I don’t sleep sometimes because I don’t know how my life will look now. I don’t have any grand statements about what this will mean, ultimately. Except that maybe I’ll need to spring for bunkbeds, on orders of Big Sister.

New post up tomorrow.

Top 3 moments

1) The birth of my daughter, Emma. All of her, everyday.

2) The moment I saw my now husband when he finished basic training for the Air Force. I spent a week in a dingy hotel in San Antonio where the Alamo is in the middle of a traffic circle. Where the bugs are 3 inches long and attack your head in the early morn. Where there was no book store “in this part of town.” His poor mom and sister had to go find other entertainment – we were so in love. Goosebumps.

3) The first time I was alone in my first apartment. My parents cleared out, I woke up from a nap and looked around, took a walk around my new city and got some Chinese. Mr. Chen’s is still there, I’m still in my neighborhood – it’s home.

Top 3 Realizations

1) I am not who I thought I was going to be. Thank the goddess for that.

2) I have spent every second of this decade loving my husband.

3) Having a child so young (and not in my “master plan”) truly defined who I am. I love that the first thing I call myself is Mom.

It’s interesting that life gets reduced to lists. It’s the moments, all added up. The pictures, arranged in an album. A way of looking at time and creating purpose.

The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest things without it. ~ Carl Jung

2) I got on a list. And not just some high school superlative nonsense. An amazing blogger dedicated space on her list of best blogs to me. Truly touched by this stranger, who happened upon my posting (on beauty) and has continued to visit. I’m honored to have made an impact on her. Shout out to my new friend Yousei Hime. Blogging is incredibly self absorbed and I’m just one of millions. But, hey – someone is listening, someone understands out there.

3) Christmas list. The Amazon order has shipped. My list is en route. A tea kettle, a weathervane (with a german shepherd on it – very cute), a few books, a saber tooth tiger. Emma said that this year she would visit Santa for the first time and whisper in his ear her needs for this season. On her list: no more wars, no more people without food, an ice cream maker, and a pogo stick. I love her list.

My list would include a vacation with my husband. Alone. Le Creuset kitchenware. So I can be in my kitchen. Alone. A perfect part time job. So I can get my daughter from school and we’d walk home and talk. Just the two of us.

Haiku for Le Creuset

Alone in my kitchen with a pot

Cooking and bubbling

A day’s stew

When I got to work (since I have nothing better to do. No, really, I have nothing better to do since this job was totally mischaracterized to me before accepting and is totally mundane and not challenging at all), I looked up Bach on Wiki. Look how perfect this sheet music is.

Here it is for your ears as well: Sonata

2) “Truly human, fully ourselves, beautiful.” This is from the novel On Beauty, by Zadie Smith. I am hesitant to dissect books because I think it destroys their beauty. So much of what makes a story a great story is how it makes the reader feel. I can’t do that for you or you or you. And one reason why I have always hated English classes and why I just couldn’t be an English major in undergrad (other than the fact that I thought there would be no jobs, other than teaching. Too bad I should have known then I would love to be a teacher now. Youthful ambition. sigh.) But, the book questions – what is art? what is music? is beauty physical – can you touch it? is it spiritual? is it academic? She does this through a philandering academic, a hip hop listening teen and a pie-baking older woman.

3) Emma. Ok, I cannot post about beauty without posting about Emma, who is the most beautiful person I have ever witnessed. But, deeper is the sheer terror I feel when I think that she will ever question her beauty, which she will, since she’s a human girl and all. I am totally unaware of ANY woman on this planet who has truly loved herself all her days. Maybe this just isn’t realistic of humans at all, but I’d like to think that maybe it’s possible and maybe it will start with my daughter. When I think of the loathing aimed toward myself growing up, I feel so sad. It’s not something rational, I don’t quite know why I thought those things, but I’ve been trying to get to the root so that maybe I can help Emma navigate through the preteen and teen years. For the first time a few weeks ago, she referenced “being pretty” (by wearing patent leather shoes). I’ve purposely restrained myself from talking about myself in those terms (those monthly pants battles are waged in the privacy of my own room, with no little eyes to witness). I don’t say “I look so fat” or “I’m so ugly” and I don’t talk about other people in terms of physical beauty. I do tell her that she is beautiful, that she is the most wonderful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, and that Daddy is, in fact, a very handsome man. But I do wear make up, buy clothes to show off my figure, and spend money on hair products and scented things. I shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows. What is this saying to her? That I need to cover myself in order to be “presentable” for work? That I need to push up and suck in, as I look in the mirror at all angles. That I complain about my achy feet and sore blisters while limping in 3 inch heeled shoes (even I have largely abandoned heels. I remember when I refused to wear flat shoes.).

I can’t imagine her ever thinking she’s anything other than beautiful by just being herself. Why don’t I feel the same about me?

Why do I feel so down today?!

A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ~

So, I ‘ve given you music, given you a picture (of music at least). Now I must give you a poem – and a laugh.

Posted in Family, Hobbying, Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged: beauty, daughters, dorothy parker, johannsebastian bach, music, on beauty, poetry, self esteembook criticism, sheet music, sonata, zadie smith ]]> http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/3-things-on-beauty/feed/ 5 3thingsindc bach violin sonata http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/10/21/3-things-on-discovery/ http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/10/21/3-things-on-discovery/#comments Wed, 21 Oct 2009 19:11:21 +0000 3thingsindc http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/?p=106 Continue reading →]]> Even worse this time. 19 days since my last post! Usual excuses.

1) Discovery #1: I enjoy hiking. Everyone who knows me knows I am a city girl. I don’t like groups of almost invisible bugs swarming at my head. I don’t particularly like sweating all that much. And I really don’t like driving places. But, in an effort to get more in touch with nature and find activities for my family to do together, I planned a hiking trip. Including a night in a cabin-ish hotel-ish kind of place. Said room ended up smelling a little like dog and they have Christmas lights strung out back year round, but it was kitschy and the people were sweet and a cat lived in the gift shop. Her name is Callie and Emma is already planning a return visit to hang out with her. (Here’s the link. It was a cute place to stay. Warning: some rooms include hot tubs, which I find really gross. Reminds me of the Poconos champagne tower rooms. Blech.)

So, my little family of 3 set out on our adventure to the Shenandoah Valley, VA. We entered from the North at the beginning of Skyline Drive and snaked slowly around the bends, pulling over at the requisite overlook points to take pictures and “ooh” at the changing of the leaves. And the thing is: It really is beautiful. Danny and I went to the Grand Canyon about 8 or 9 years ago and I had the same feeling. We’re so small. And we do so much to make ourselves seem so big. So much to have some kind of mastery over nature.We hiked more than 3 miles that day, which is pretty good for a 5.5 year old’s legs. We picnicked and found walking sticks and climbed on fallen tree trunks. Maybe nature isn’t so bad, though I did get 2 spider bites. I just prefer it in small(er) and more manageable doses. And in a dose that brings my family closer together. Explorers for life.

2) Discovery #2: Small talk is really painful. Well, this is not a true discovery, as  I’m sure we all know that small talk is excruciating. But on a day like today (sunny, no humidity, light breeze, 72 degrees) following days like Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday (rainy, cloudy, 43 degrees), it is glaringly obvious. Last week: “Whew. Will this rain ever stop?! I’m FREEZING! And I forgot my umbrella!” (Uh, it’s been raining for days and you still can’t seem to remember to wear a jacket and bring an umbrella?!) Today: “Can you believe this weather? It’s so gorgeous today! We all need to work outside!” (Have you EVER seen a group of business folk in a park with laptops or holding a meeting at a picnic table? Then why do people hold on to this as if it will actually happen?)  Most disturbing, ‘This is just like the weather on 9/11.” Great, thanks.

So, I will start an experiment: No small talk. I just can’t do it anymore. The fake smiles. The sighs as the conversation dies. Wouldn’t life be better if we just said “Hello” -take your ride 10 floors up in the elevator – “Good bye. Have a nice day!” – and exit. Instead, this is what happens: I was walking out of my apartment building this morning, New Yorker in hand and one of those inserts dropped out. I stopped and let a woman by and she just had to say “I hate those things. And always so many of them.” So I politely said “Yes, they are quite annoying” and picked it up and kept walking. I turned the cover and the woman continues “I mean, you are already a subscriber. You don’t need another subscription. hahahaha” Oh my goddess. Yes, we know they are annoying. We know that they just litter the hallways, the front stoops, the sidewalks and the Metro platform. But, really, my day would have been off to a much better start with a lovely “Good morning” than with a Seinfeldian rant on subscription cards in magazines.

3) Discovery #3: There is a drawer on the bottom of the sink cabinet unit. We’ve lived in our apartment for 2.5 years. It’s a pretty big place, but our bathroom is frighteningly and claustrophobia-inducing small. There is not much storage and I despise those over-the-toilet organizer things, so I have some baskets. I was going to the bathroom last week and for some reason, pulled on the bottom rectangular panel at the bottom of the sink unit. IT’S A DRAWER!! A nice deep drawer. It sits there empty, though. I just can’t seem to figure out what I should store in there! The long-defunct hot rollers (who has time for setting their hair?!), curling iron, hand towels, razors, extra shampoo? The endless possibilities for newfound storage.

1) Found. We’ve taken a few things out of the trash, other people’s trash. I woke up one Saturday morning (a sleep-in Saturday for me) to a loud thumping sound. And some more thumps. Turns out Emma and Danny found a kid’s DRUM SET in the alley on the way back from the playground. There was nothing wrong with this drum set, which leads me to imagine a very frustrated mom dragging the thing out to the trash after her mother-in-law so generously gifted it to her 3 year old.We have since thrown it in our own trash after being beaten so much that two of the drums had holes straight through. I’m sure our neighbors love us (for this and many reasons, which most likely includes our daily showcase of the cat smackdown, also known as our very own Animal Planet).

We also found a Matisse print that has turned into the color inspiration for Emma’s room. Navy, teal, red, golden yellow. Deep, rich colors. That hides the dirt and cat hair (mostly).

Just last month we’re walking along and see a tv, which I assume was broken. Emma said “Don’t worry, Daddy and I will come get it later.” Turns out we’ve now turned our kid into a trash picker.

2) F. Scott Fitzgerald. I’ve been meaning to write more about books, but the reality is that I just haven’t been reading anything not school related lately. So, I’ll start in a logical place with FSco (yes, I went there). I am actually proud of myself for reading an entire issue of the New Yorker by Wednesday this week. Speaking of that, FSco reminds me of New York; reminds me of my teen years -  Bernice’s bob and Daisy’s dress; of Emma’s infancy, what does life mean – to be beautiful? to be damned?. Imagine a country where a writer is a celebrity – do we still have that today? I have a tendency to romanticize these things. Zelda, for example (isn’t that a great name, by the way!) – she was obviously mentally ill, but maybe she wasn’t. Being a woman who deigned to express unhappiness with life (FSco’s drinking, a failing marriage) means schizophrenia? Aren’t we all a few people wrapped inside our heads. She also hated Hemingway – something we have in common.

His and Zelda’s graves are in Rockville, MD. What a great daytrip with the kids. When you’re done, you can discuss the cultural implications of his life and writings at a shopping center along 270. That’s some side of paradise.

3) Feminism. My feminism: We can have it all, just not all at once. Something has to be sacrificed. Often it is sanity, more often it is a marriage or partnership, and even more often it is career. I started this blog because I’ve been frustrated with my life, specifically my career. It’s nothing new – I know I’m not alone in this. Balance is something all moms need. We all complain, we all do what we can to survive. I think it’s hard to realize that there are limitations in life – that you can’t, in fact, be anything you want to be. Nor, can you be all that you need to be. There is a lot of talk on this – the Feminist Mistake for one (a “biblical” look at feminism – you can only imagine where that goes).

I think about Emma and how we’re raising her and I realize that my pretty egalitarian marriage is a result of being married to  a man who had a single mom (like most of the kids in this country) and he decided to be anything BUT his own father – he had no problems being with a strong woman. So, maybe the problem isn’t with feminism – maybe it’s machismo. We laugh at men changing diapers, at being unable to feed their kids anything other than McDonalds, we look down our noses at stay at home dads. I don’t think women question being able to do everything a man can, but I DO think men question whether they can do everything a woman can.

Today my feminism is dreaming of a cottage, with a garden out back and I’m wrapped in a sweater and yoga pants, surrounded by kids. Fresh bread is baking in the oven. It’s my choice, and it’s perfect.

So, why was I unable to write a comprehensible sentence?I was out until 1 am three nights in a row. On Friday I mentioned that my BFF was in town for the weekend. So, we drank a bunch of wine. Saturday night was date night. So, we drank a bunch of wine. Sunday was wedding night. So, we drank a bunch of wine. And then a beer at a lovely dive bar with a kick ass jukebox and mounted animal heads on the walls. And Annie made an absolute mess. You just can’t take her anywhere!

(I’m sorry, but I’m laughing hysterically right now)

My husband tells me I’ve always been 40. Maybe I’m just heading toward my born age, my natural age, my perfect age.

2) Technology @#!. A fellow thirtysomethingfabulous just joined Twitter. And she suggested that I write about technology and getting old – because she feels old:

“WTF is the # used for?
Maybe a topic? Like if I wanted to talk about last night’s Gossip Girl, I’d write #gossipgirl? How
’bout this for your  next blog: 3 things about getting older. Technology is starting to escape me!  My inability to grasp Twitter is the equivalent of my parents letting the VCR flash “12:00″ for years and years.  It’s not intuitive anymore.  :(“

So, I told her that # was like tagging and also told her how stupid I think Twitter is. And how I just got an iPod for the first time this year (as a 30 birthday gift to myself – and it came with the iPhone, so…). Then I remembered my Babcie (shout out to my fellow Polocks!) yelling at me to step away from the microwave. Because she “didn’t trust those things.” Or, how I scoffed at the idea of a Roomba – they really do freak  me out. And I can’t imagine it works well. Always looking for that next big thing, but always so rooted in what we know, what’s familiar.

3) Teen angst. To take aging from a kid’s POV, we’ll chat about Emma wanting to be a teen. In truth, she is actually quite obsessed with teenagers and the things she’ll do when she is one. And it’s frightening that she is already so in tuned with what teenage life is like. We were on the plane to Disney last year and there were two teenagers in front of us. They were both bopping their heads to music and looking gangly and generally disgruntled about life (and heading to Orlando for what I’m assuming is a “FUN FAMILY TRIP! We’ll all get to be together, honey – isn’t that great?!”). Emma laughed at them the whole time and now says she’s going to do that when she’s a teenager. She also tells me she’ll drive crazy, go to Starbucks instead of school for a skim chai latte (that rebel!) and dress as poop for Halloween. I have a feeling this time around will be a lot harder than the first time.

So, Annie and I have been friends for 19 years. We met as rising 6th graders at the bus stop and survived every single thing that happens to tweens (though we weren’t called tweens then, were we?) and teens. We even got our periods within days of each other. She lives in Wisconsin now and it sucks. Here are my top 5 Annie and Dasa moments:

1) Frosted Flake Hospital. Annie had just broken up with her 7th grade boyfriend, Frank. I had broken up with mine, Evan, a few months prior. So, we were eating dry frosted flakes in my room (I always kept food and a gallon of water in my room so I never had to leave) and we were sending the broken Frosted Flakes to the hospital. To the tune of “One” (their song) in the background.

2) Morrison’s Mortuary/DICKWAD/Prank phone calls. We made many many many prank phone calls on our summers off. We dialed the numbers to spell out “DICKWAD”:

victim: Hello?

us: Hello, is dickwad there? (stifling convulsive laughter)

victim: No, but he’ll be back at 2 o’clock in NEVER NEVER LAND

She then threatened to call the cops on us. It was hilarious.

3) Holding/changing Melannie in the hospital. No explanation needed for this one.

4) Annie’s first car. It was a tiny orange Toyota and the passenger door didn’t open, so I used to crawl through the driver’s side door and one time I knocked off the rear view mirror as I was getting in. Annie would go into school and I would sit in her car and smoke cigarettes and other things. Annie also had a thing for hitting shopping carts in parking lots. On purpose.

5) Eyelash. We had a band called Eyelash. I still have the cassette tape (with customized cover). “So lost, so dead, don’t know where I’m ahead. I miss you to tears. Miss you to tears. All my fears, I don’t know who I am.” We used glasses and banged on tables. And I miss every minute of it.

2) I think I shouldn’t have taken this job. This concludes my 4th week here at my “new” (the shiny is wearing off – quickly) job. And the phone rings once and then stops. Frequently. I counted 9 times yesterday.

I don’t know if I’m just seriously spoiled and acting like a brat, but I am just SO BORED. I can have a pile of work on my desk and I’m still bored. I wasn’t bored like this when I stayed home with Emma. For 3 years. And I wasn’t bored. I never thought of myself as the at-home “type,” but I’m thinking maybe I am. What will make me more excited than being a mom? Yes, I know it’s cheesy and people will think I’m setting feminism back by admitting that I hate working and love being home for my daughter. I am just so tired of each interaction being filled with stress and rush “Get on your shoes! Clean up your toys! I can’t – I’m making dinner. Let’s go – we’ll be late!”  Over and over. And over again. I can’t even meet the 30 minutes/day that we’re supposed to read to her. We’re down to, like, 15. And I don’t like that.

3) I love DC in the fall. This weekend is Fiesta Day at the Zoo (2 blocks from our apartment), The National Book Festival (with Judy Blume!!!) is next weekend, the International Wolf Trap Festival is this weekend too. National Theater also starts their Saturday Morning program! Today, Danny and Emma are heading to the top of the Washington Monument. When I think of packing it all in and moving to Amish Country to be near my dad and in nature, fall arrives. I’m heading to Georgetown tonight, though, and I hate Georgetown, so I might be pointing the wagons North by the end of the night.

2) What’s my snooping policy? As the parent of a girl – a someday-to-be teenaged girl – I wonder if I’ll snoop. I’m not the type to dig through people’s medicine cabinets (my fear that the cabinet would come crashing to the ground just as it squeaks shut keeps me from ever doing this!). But I was a teenager. A not so great one. I was never where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be there. I talked back and smelled weird (weird= alcohol, cigarettes and pot) and had bloodshot eyes when I walked through that door, way past curfew. So, my mom read my diary. It’s like husbands who are caught cheating via email by their snooping spouses. All of a sudden, it’s the snooping that’s the crime. Not the cheating. And somehow the argument gets turned on the finder: “I’ll never be able to trust you again!”. Laughable, really. So, in 10 year’s time will I be having a blowout with my girl?

Mom: What the hell are you doing with the Jell-O shots? And kissing all those boys?

Emma: That is my personal space, mom! You can’t read my diary. See – I can’t trust you with ANYTHING. I knew I couldn’t talk to you! I am FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. I can do want I want!

And then what? Do I laugh and say “Well, if you were trustworthy, I wouldn’t have to snoop”. Do I smack her and tell her she’s ruining her life? Do I hug her and cry and beg her to love herself?

3) Spy jackets are so cool. I took Emma to Lord & Taylor over the weekend with me to do some “shopping”. I think I may get rich on pioneering something in department stores: making clothes racks unfriendly toward children. It’s thousands of square feet of forts and cool hiding spots. And, unfortunately, they are cause for thousands of heart jumps and cold sweats, as frantic calls echo around the store “Emma! Emma!” only to find she’s in the Michael Kors leather jackets. I pull her out (confession: I said in Stern Mommy Voice “Get out of there NOW.”) So, she did and she looks at the mass of black leather in which she was just hiding and said “Oh, Mommy – these are spy jackets. You have to get one.” I don’t know what made her think I was the sort who wore “spy jackets,” but as I think of it – the 007 in me is thinking that conversation above would be a hell of a lot cooler if I wore a spy jacket.

Posted in Dressing, Family, Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged: office buildings, office life, parenting teens, shopping with kids, snooping, spy jackets, spying, windows ]]> http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/3-things-on-spying/feed/ 2 3thingsindc photo spy jacket http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/09/14/3-things-before-i-buy-the-pink-poodle-costume/ http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/09/14/3-things-before-i-buy-the-pink-poodle-costume/#comments Mon, 14 Sep 2009 21:45:32 +0000 3thingsindc http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/?p=52 Continue reading →]]> 1) My vote was for Zookeeper. Emma has more toy cars and trucks than toy dolls. She’s always wore generous helpings of pink (Part gift-givers, cause people just can’t help it. If a baby girl is around, the cute little dresses and sunglasses and hats and 2-piece bikini gifts just roll in. Partly because she’s suddenly come to love pink: Sparkly Pink, to be exact.), but I’d like to think I’ve done my post-feminist job of making her as gender-balanced as possible. Then came the poodle. The poodle is hideous. Thank you, Chasing Fireflies. So, in about 40 days, on Halloween, I will be proudly screaming at the bottom of the stairs (“SAY THANK YOU!!!”) to a fluffy pepto poodle. Here is the picture. Credit to Chasing Fireflies (a.k.a. this isn’t my kid so don’t be mad at me)

I mean, it could be worse. She DID scoff at the picture of a cheerleader (and I cheered inside!). Last year in preschool, she went through a minor identity crisis and became very concerned over her dislike of princesses. For weeks, she told me who DID like princesses and who DID NOT like princesses. “Do you like princesses, Mommy?” She refuses to wear dresses, as they interfere with her dog fantasy world (one can’t crawl on all fours in a dress. Comfortably, anyway). So, when you see us greedily taking your candy and as you smile that smile “Oh, look how CUTE!”, be assured that on the walk back she’ll be telling poopy jokes. And that Mommy wanted her to be a zookeeper.

UPDATE!! Went to Target last night (Tuesday) and Emma decided she wanted to be a witch. So, she is now an autumn witch and “will cast spells and make special brews. I’ll even turn you into your favorite dog, Mommy.”

2) The 3G Husband. No, I haven’t created a husband-tracking app, but that’s a good idea. I was talking to a coworker the other day about balance and family. She’s the fifth or sixth person (all childless) who has recently told me they admire me for “doing it all.” I’m trying to figure out if this is code for “I wouldn’t want to be you in a million years. Why do you run yourself ragged like this?” – OR they really DO want to be like me and they’re scared to even think about marriage and kids because it’s so fucking hard sometimes. And then there’s the fluffy pink poodle question: Does your husband help? And I realized, that in a city like DC, it really is a scary thing. If you’re going to marry a lawyer (and chances are, if you are in a bar in DC, or on Match.com, in D.C., 70% of your prospects will be lawyers), there’s a possibility that the kid load will fall on you. My husband doesn’t “babysit” (perhaps my biggest pet peeve re: division of labor in the house), he doesn’t “help” – he just Parents (v). Parenting wasn’t a verb until technology came along and people urbanized and had no farms and nothing better to do and so they had fewer kids and turned their attentions toward parenting. The women did, anyway. It’s been a long time since then. And of course things have changed, but not to the point where a man watching his own kids isn’t babysitting. So I told my coworker I have the 3G husband. And that’s how I do it. And that’s how HE does it. We both change diapers, we both cook, we both stay home sick, we both go to the doctor and kiss her boo-boos. But he still throws out the trash. And that’s ok with me.

3) She’s happy. She will be so happy as a poodle. And she loves her sparkly pink skirt – and her tools. Maybe we should all aspire to just be all of it, or none of it, or just some of it. Cause, really, who cares? Since we’re on a gender bend today and since I love Mad Men  – and since no conversation about gender and expectations would be complete without some girl-on-girl bashing:

Joan (to Peggy, newly promoted to jr. copywriter): You want to be taken seriously? Stop dressing like a little girl.

Posted in Dressing, Family, Issues, Parenting, Spousing, Uncategorized, Working Tagged: gender, gender stereotypes, halloween, kids, mad men, marriage, Parenting ]]> http://3thingsindc.wordpress.com/2009/09/14/3-things-before-i-buy-the-pink-poodle-costume/feed/ 0 3thingsindc poodle joan and peggy