On the plane last night, I was chatting with the guy sitting next to me. He was mid-60's, white, highly educated, and wore cuff-links while writing a blog post about sulfur dioxide.
We were bonding over a shared love of algebra (don't judge!) and I told him about how now that my 5 year old can spell, I'm trying to get my husband to send coded messages, encrypted with matrices by hand, with me. (I am great at small talk and normal human anecdotes!) And he laughs and says:
"Isn't everything women say to men a coded message?"
Friends, I made a face that could have cut glass. He quickly back pedals saying "That's what the comedians say anyway"
"Those comedians who are now getting fired for sexually harassing and assaulting women?" I say as his smile fades. "I'm pretty sure those messages weren't coded."
He looks down, then back at me and says "Yeah... I guess not."
We went on to have an engaging conversation ranging from Tesla to childrearing. And... I think it made a difference. I hope it did.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Friday, June 2, 2017
Assorted Thoughts on Getting Married Young
People who know me and anyone who's read my posts here know that I got married young. At just barely 21 years-old, I legally bond my life, finances, and fate to another person, who I had known for just under 2 years at that time.
My mother also got married young, the first time. She married my dad at 19 and then left him and filed for divorce almost exactly 10 years later. When I told my dad that I was engaged and wanted to plan a wedding with someone who I'd been dating for only 6 months, I could see the wheels in his head turning. I could tell that he was looking at me and seeing a depressing potential future. But, he asked me if I was sure, and he trusted me. He helped me plan, and he paid for a wedding. His only reservation was that, in a grand tradition of my family, I was marrying someone of a different ethnic and religious background and my dad wanted to be sure that my fiance understood that any future children would be raised Jewish.
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| Babies Under the Chupa |
I've been watching an internet acquaintance go through a divorce on social media recently and she posted something that stuck with me; she said that one of the hardest things about getting divorced was that as someone who got married young, she'd invested a lot of herself in being the "young marriage that worked". After years of people giving you you'll-see looks, and telling you that you're making a poor choice, it becomes part of your identity; you wear your I'll-show-you armor and hold your that's-just-your-opinion-because-you-are-unhappy shield and feel comforted that you did in fact make a good choice. That you made the best choice for you.
A marriage ending is not a failure, but there's all those years of people's voices in your head just waiting to say "I told you so" and that's a shitty feeling to compound upon the unhappiness and discomfort of change. About half of the people I know my age who have been married have been divorced (or are divorcing). Honestly? That sucks but on the other hand, it's pretty great. They were able to make the best choices for themselves at the time. They had experiences that made them stronger. And, they had the legal protections to (mostly) safe guard their financial futures; something one coworker wished she'd had when she got saddled co-owning a house with her ex-boyfriend.
Getting married young allowed me to have kids young and seeing how quickly my body appears to be deteriorating, I feel like that was definitely for the best. Being married young allowed me to make choices like going to grad school that might not have otherwise been financially feasible. It allowed me to amass wealth I might not have otherwise acquired, and plan a life with roots and freedom that having a partner should facilitate. It was the right choice for me at the time. Being in a relationship should always be a choice, and for me it is, a choice that I am happily making every day.
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| Too young to buy booze! |
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| Married for 10 Years |
Even as a supremely judgey person, I find myself wishing that more people would chill the judgmental attitude when the hear about a friend making a choice - you'll-sees and I-told-you-sos might feel good at the time, but they could keep a friend from reaching out to you or even making the next choice for themselves in the future.
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Gender, Sex, Sexuality: The Great Jello-Salad
Gender, sex, and sexuality are in some ways completed separate and in some ways desperately intertwined (along with other concepts relating to reproduction, social norms, and family). I'm not going to get into the 101 or even the 102 stuff; if you want to get a primer, there are some great resources like Scarleteen!
A quick note: my experiences as a queer person have been that my gender, my gender presentation, my sexuality, my romantic inclinations, etc are all pretty fluid. Right now, I'm at the femmest I have ever been in my life and I think it might be a subconscious reaction to the election? Who knows. My experiences are just that, mine; they might be similar to yours, but I don't want to imply that they should be yours. Now, that's out of the way! Onward!
We're in a place in time where we get to sift through words to find the ones that are the most useful. It's exciting and scary. Things can change fast and a word that you find or use now might not mean exactly what you wanted it to mean in a year from now, let alone five or ten years. Words and meanings can change so quickly because we as English speaking humans are working together to define and redefine concepts. Think about a word like "homosexual" which only originated in the late 1800's and which has gone through iterations beginning as a medical term for a pathology, being reclaimed, and moving into a taken for granted dry sort of descriptor. As we come up with better ways to describe our experiences, we hit snags. Words that fit one person might not fit you, and might even hurt you (See example: Eddie Izzard's use of 'transvestite'). You only need to get near Tumblr to find an ever expanding lexicon of gender, sex, sexuality, and the human experience. It's pretty great.
My problem with all of this exciting/scary word creation is that we often get stuck on the gender binary. We often subconsciously imagine gender and sexuality as this 2-dimensional line with masculine on one end and feminine on the other, with heterosexual on one end and homosexual on the other, with female on one end and male on the other, etc. When, in reality, so many of our experiences are not so simple. Even terms like NB/non-binary/enby while great are in reaction to the entrenched nature of the binary in our minds. I prefer to think of gender, sex, sexuality, and all of these deeply personal aspects of our bodies, ourselves, and our families as multi-dimensional and inter-related.
I hereby present the Jello-Salad Theory of Humans.
You know those Midwestern, 1970's ridiculous jello-salads? Like, green jello + whipped cream + pureed fruit, layered with crushed oreos and cottage cheese, and then maybe some olives and a hot dog thrown in, served with a wheel of brie on the side for some reason?
Yup. That's what I mean. A complex, bizarre, multi-dimensional matrix which humans move through (or which move through us?) over time.
So, how do we use the Jello-Salad Theory? Consider aspects of Sex - a way of categorizing bodies as they intersect with sexual reproduction, how they look, and how their physiology. There are some parts that are associated with Sex; there are gonads, genitals, hormones, subcutaneous fat deposits, mammary glands, etc. Sometimes there is a binary - e.g. either you have a uterus or you do not - but rarely does that binary truly inform other aspects of your sex. For example you might have a uterus but not menstruate, you might have had a uterus in the past but don't any more, you have a uterus but not be capable of and/or interested in pregnancy, etc. While having a uterus is associated with being female which is associated with being a woman, it's not a prerequisite or a defining factor. Even something that seems like it's a simple binary (having or not having a body part), is more complicated. The way we experience our bodies is rarely simple.
Bodies are only a part of your jello-salad. Consider aspects of gender, gender identity and gender presentation. Consider sexuality from the different lens of sexual attraction, romantic love, social attraction, and social belonging, just to name a few. There are more aspects to the way we are than I could possibly name.
Imagine your own jello-salad. Consider the ever changing shared touch-points that impact you and which you impact through our shared project of living in our own bodies and sharing in/creating our society. Some of these touch-points are things like who you are sexually attracted to, if you feel sexual attraction at all, how you present yourself to the world, how you feel inside, physical realities of your body (e.g. menstruation), or how you are treated by others (e.g. the male-gaze). Some of the things that make up your jello-salad will be pretty standard, some will be completely unique. You and I might share some aspects, but not others. There is no one way to put your jello-salad together - it could be layered, it could be emulsified, it could be a combo of those things! There might be garnishes, it might be in a cool shape, it could be savory, sweet, sour, or all of the above.
I think my jello-salad is probably sweet - it's defined by my desire to be a mother, my laziness, my experience of sexual attraction and my experience of my love and ideas about family. I think there is definitely a layer of crushed pretzels for crunch and a bit of saltiness. Generally, I'd say it's delicious. How about yours?
A quick note: my experiences as a queer person have been that my gender, my gender presentation, my sexuality, my romantic inclinations, etc are all pretty fluid. Right now, I'm at the femmest I have ever been in my life and I think it might be a subconscious reaction to the election? Who knows. My experiences are just that, mine; they might be similar to yours, but I don't want to imply that they should be yours. Now, that's out of the way! Onward!
We're in a place in time where we get to sift through words to find the ones that are the most useful. It's exciting and scary. Things can change fast and a word that you find or use now might not mean exactly what you wanted it to mean in a year from now, let alone five or ten years. Words and meanings can change so quickly because we as English speaking humans are working together to define and redefine concepts. Think about a word like "homosexual" which only originated in the late 1800's and which has gone through iterations beginning as a medical term for a pathology, being reclaimed, and moving into a taken for granted dry sort of descriptor. As we come up with better ways to describe our experiences, we hit snags. Words that fit one person might not fit you, and might even hurt you (See example: Eddie Izzard's use of 'transvestite'). You only need to get near Tumblr to find an ever expanding lexicon of gender, sex, sexuality, and the human experience. It's pretty great.
My problem with all of this exciting/scary word creation is that we often get stuck on the gender binary. We often subconsciously imagine gender and sexuality as this 2-dimensional line with masculine on one end and feminine on the other, with heterosexual on one end and homosexual on the other, with female on one end and male on the other, etc. When, in reality, so many of our experiences are not so simple. Even terms like NB/non-binary/enby while great are in reaction to the entrenched nature of the binary in our minds. I prefer to think of gender, sex, sexuality, and all of these deeply personal aspects of our bodies, ourselves, and our families as multi-dimensional and inter-related.
I hereby present the Jello-Salad Theory of Humans.
 |
| Grapes and olives totally go together, right? |
Yup. That's what I mean. A complex, bizarre, multi-dimensional matrix which humans move through (or which move through us?) over time.
So, how do we use the Jello-Salad Theory? Consider aspects of Sex - a way of categorizing bodies as they intersect with sexual reproduction, how they look, and how their physiology. There are some parts that are associated with Sex; there are gonads, genitals, hormones, subcutaneous fat deposits, mammary glands, etc. Sometimes there is a binary - e.g. either you have a uterus or you do not - but rarely does that binary truly inform other aspects of your sex. For example you might have a uterus but not menstruate, you might have had a uterus in the past but don't any more, you have a uterus but not be capable of and/or interested in pregnancy, etc. While having a uterus is associated with being female which is associated with being a woman, it's not a prerequisite or a defining factor. Even something that seems like it's a simple binary (having or not having a body part), is more complicated. The way we experience our bodies is rarely simple.
Bodies are only a part of your jello-salad. Consider aspects of gender, gender identity and gender presentation. Consider sexuality from the different lens of sexual attraction, romantic love, social attraction, and social belonging, just to name a few. There are more aspects to the way we are than I could possibly name.
 |
| Rarely simple. |
Imagine your own jello-salad. Consider the ever changing shared touch-points that impact you and which you impact through our shared project of living in our own bodies and sharing in/creating our society. Some of these touch-points are things like who you are sexually attracted to, if you feel sexual attraction at all, how you present yourself to the world, how you feel inside, physical realities of your body (e.g. menstruation), or how you are treated by others (e.g. the male-gaze). Some of the things that make up your jello-salad will be pretty standard, some will be completely unique. You and I might share some aspects, but not others. There is no one way to put your jello-salad together - it could be layered, it could be emulsified, it could be a combo of those things! There might be garnishes, it might be in a cool shape, it could be savory, sweet, sour, or all of the above.
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| Look at all of the options! |
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Hidden Figures: It Was So Good, Go See It Now
Hidden Figures was SO good. I want you to make a plan to see it and buy some tickets online before reading the rest of this post it was so good. Not really spoiling anything but I will discuss overall themes, caveat emptor.
The acting and the pacing were perfect. The guy who played Remy from House of Cards, Mahershala Ali, is in it and totally dreamy. Taraji P. Henson both stands out and is completely transformed into her role. She makes a woman who's smarter than Einstein and who fought racism and sexism and won feel like an every-woman. Each of the women has a family; they're wives, daughters, mothers, girlfriends, but that's not what's central to their being our their character arcs. It's refreshing (and the love interest, Ali, is so dreamy that I won't even comment that she needed to have a love interest and, more importantly, because Black folks in love is unnecessarily novel in movies and should be depicted more often).
The soundtrack is amazing - not only are there catchy tunes, but the music is used in the film so well to advance the story. Pharrell Williams wrote the soundtrack and was one of the producers and his artistry shows through gorgeously.
One impressive part of this film that I really didn't expect was how relatable the math was. They explain what they're doing and why it's hard. They show what math means in space flight. This movie made me care about mathematical principles in a way that Apollo 13 or A Beautiful Mind or whatever never could.
They didn't shy away from the realities of segregation and the violence. (Not all the realities, it's PG/evening news level of disturbing). But the focus is on the everyday racism from 'nice' white people (who mostly redeem themselves...). The antagonists all say a variation on 'this is just how it is' and that's what makes them bad guys, the good guys are the ones taking actionable steps to making things better or cheering on the three protagonists as they fight for themselves, for each other, and for their entire race AND gender.
The part I'm still chewing on is the white redemption. One of the antagonists has a whole arc around their being an ass who gets in the way of the protagonists full circle to being a champion. I felt like it was presented as a fantasy of the oppressed and disrespected woman and... I don't want to begrudge anyone their cinematic fantasy. It does give the white audience a place to point to and say 'ah yes, that is how it /was/ and now it's better' though in a way that is uncomfortable. But maybe I'm reading too much into it? Maybe that's just good storytelling? It certainly was a good story.
Similarly, as in real life, the women rely on white men for credibility and that's the source of power in the film (white women act as conduits for white men's power). My only complaint was that the movie just accepted it and didn't challenge it or even call it out. I could into detail about this but I don't want to spoil plot points or make myself angry before bed, so I'm going with feeling resigned... Nothing is perfect and if that's my complaint? You know I'm digging to say something critical (because what main stream movie has ever done differently?).
Did you see it yet? What did you think?
The acting and the pacing were perfect. The guy who played Remy from House of Cards, Mahershala Ali, is in it and totally dreamy. Taraji P. Henson both stands out and is completely transformed into her role. She makes a woman who's smarter than Einstein and who fought racism and sexism and won feel like an every-woman. Each of the women has a family; they're wives, daughters, mothers, girlfriends, but that's not what's central to their being our their character arcs. It's refreshing (and the love interest, Ali, is so dreamy that I won't even comment that she needed to have a love interest and, more importantly, because Black folks in love is unnecessarily novel in movies and should be depicted more often).
The soundtrack is amazing - not only are there catchy tunes, but the music is used in the film so well to advance the story. Pharrell Williams wrote the soundtrack and was one of the producers and his artistry shows through gorgeously.
One impressive part of this film that I really didn't expect was how relatable the math was. They explain what they're doing and why it's hard. They show what math means in space flight. This movie made me care about mathematical principles in a way that Apollo 13 or A Beautiful Mind or whatever never could.
They didn't shy away from the realities of segregation and the violence. (Not all the realities, it's PG/evening news level of disturbing). But the focus is on the everyday racism from 'nice' white people (who mostly redeem themselves...). The antagonists all say a variation on 'this is just how it is' and that's what makes them bad guys, the good guys are the ones taking actionable steps to making things better or cheering on the three protagonists as they fight for themselves, for each other, and for their entire race AND gender.
The part I'm still chewing on is the white redemption. One of the antagonists has a whole arc around their being an ass who gets in the way of the protagonists full circle to being a champion. I felt like it was presented as a fantasy of the oppressed and disrespected woman and... I don't want to begrudge anyone their cinematic fantasy. It does give the white audience a place to point to and say 'ah yes, that is how it /was/ and now it's better' though in a way that is uncomfortable. But maybe I'm reading too much into it? Maybe that's just good storytelling? It certainly was a good story.
Similarly, as in real life, the women rely on white men for credibility and that's the source of power in the film (white women act as conduits for white men's power). My only complaint was that the movie just accepted it and didn't challenge it or even call it out. I could into detail about this but I don't want to spoil plot points or make myself angry before bed, so I'm going with feeling resigned... Nothing is perfect and if that's my complaint? You know I'm digging to say something critical (because what main stream movie has ever done differently?).
Did you see it yet? What did you think?
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
On Bra Sizes
Recently I saw the following meme and I felt some feelings.
One of the grand common threads that unite all women (on my facebook feed) is that none of use can find bras that we like, are flattering, fit well, and are easily accessible within our paltry clothing budgets.
What gives bra manufacturers? Don't you want our $30? APPARENTLY NOT. Don't even start with the idea that 3-4 INCHES of fabric should add $50+ to the price of a bra. I shop at JoAnns, I know how much fabric costs and you can buy it wholesale.
It's not just big boobs vs small boobs as this meme suggests either.
G-d forbid if you're not in one of the four cup sizes VS sells. Smaller than a B cup? Get some weird ugly padding or Hello Kitty! Bigger than a D? Drive out into the boonies to a specialty shop to buy a boring ugly bra for $80+ OR settle for a 40D or some other nonsense that will give you back pain and make you look weird in your work clothes because you really should be wearing a 34G/H that no one will sell you. I say this as the lady in a $80, sort of ugly 36F because even the fancy specially bra shop a half an hour drive away didn't carry any 34G/H bras. (Yes, the internet exists, but it takes just as long to measure yourself, order something, and send it back because the sizes are meaningless and it still doesn't fit. At least driving out to the bra store is something I can do while leaving Toddler and Preschooler home with their daddy and thus has the added benefit of feeling like "self-care").
And, neither my body nor my breasts are even that big. Like, you don't look at me and think 'she has huge tits!' I look sort of average which is usually a huge privilege, but when it comes to women's clothing, even the whitest, thinnest, C-cuppiest of us don't get nice things, sizing that means anything, or pockets.
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| Can I get an Amen?! |
What gives bra manufacturers? Don't you want our $30? APPARENTLY NOT. Don't even start with the idea that 3-4 INCHES of fabric should add $50+ to the price of a bra. I shop at JoAnns, I know how much fabric costs and you can buy it wholesale.
It's not just big boobs vs small boobs as this meme suggests either.
G-d forbid if you're not in one of the four cup sizes VS sells. Smaller than a B cup? Get some weird ugly padding or Hello Kitty! Bigger than a D? Drive out into the boonies to a specialty shop to buy a boring ugly bra for $80+ OR settle for a 40D or some other nonsense that will give you back pain and make you look weird in your work clothes because you really should be wearing a 34G/H that no one will sell you. I say this as the lady in a $80, sort of ugly 36F because even the fancy specially bra shop a half an hour drive away didn't carry any 34G/H bras. (Yes, the internet exists, but it takes just as long to measure yourself, order something, and send it back because the sizes are meaningless and it still doesn't fit. At least driving out to the bra store is something I can do while leaving Toddler and Preschooler home with their daddy and thus has the added benefit of feeling like "self-care").
And, neither my body nor my breasts are even that big. Like, you don't look at me and think 'she has huge tits!' I look sort of average which is usually a huge privilege, but when it comes to women's clothing, even the whitest, thinnest, C-cuppiest of us don't get nice things, sizing that means anything, or pockets.
Posting some stuff!
Friends,
I have decided that I sometimes put a lot of effort into writing comments on people's facebook pages, because... I'm not really sure? Instant gratification? Social Pressure? I'm a person with a smart phone? It's a mystery.
Suffice it to say, I'm gonna start posting some of that shit here and y'all are gonna like it. (Or not... Whatevs)
So, happy new year! Watch this space for random tidbits and feel free to bother me if you see my fabulous diatribes elsewhere.
I have decided that I sometimes put a lot of effort into writing comments on people's facebook pages, because... I'm not really sure? Instant gratification? Social Pressure? I'm a person with a smart phone? It's a mystery.
Suffice it to say, I'm gonna start posting some of that shit here and y'all are gonna like it. (Or not... Whatevs)
So, happy new year! Watch this space for random tidbits and feel free to bother me if you see my fabulous diatribes elsewhere.
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
On Being an Urban Sprouts Family
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| Ellicia being introduced |
My daughters' school recently broke ground on their new building and the Center's Director, Ellicia, asked me to speak from the perspective of a parent. Here is the text of my remarks:
When Ellicia asked me if I'd say a few words on what it means to be an Urban Sprouts family, I knew the answer immediately. Being an Urban Sprouts family means being a member of a diverse, loving community where each individual is respected and valued.
The teachers are highly trained and skilled professionals who partner with parents in our shared goals of raising inquisitive children who can confidently make a difference in the world knowing their own worth and respecting the value of others.
Parenting is hard. There are so many choices, so many expectations, so much judgement, and it's all on you to not mess it up. They say 'it takes a village to raise a child' but they never tell you where to find your "village" and so many families are left isolated.
Urban Sprouts lives their values of diversity and community by bringing families together for fellowship at every opportunity. In addition to annual events like the chili cook off and the cultural picnic, there are little things like tastings of snacks the children prepare with fresh herbs and produce from the school's garden and curriculum nights where parents work together with their children on crafts.
These events and the community spirit that they foster don't just happen. It takes time, it takes money, it takes intentionality and a great deal of effort. For that, I'm extremely grateful to Ellicia Qualls, Andrea Barragan, and all of the Urban Sprouts teachers.
It takes a village to raise a child and Urban Sprouts is a crucial part of my family's village.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
Dachau Or My Feelings After the 2016 Election
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| Work Sets You Free. The gate to the Nazi concentration camp, Dachau in southern Germany. |
In 2002, I was an exchange-student at Ohm Gymnasium in Erlangen, Germany. We went on a field trip to Dachau, a concentration camp. On the bus on the way there, they assured me not that many Jews were sent to their deaths at this particular camp.
This was mostly a concentration camp for gays and socialists.
I think they told me this to help me feel more comfortable.
I walked around with some of my friends from class and as we were leaving one of the German kids, I think his name was Manny, handed me a piece of chocolate.
I was ugly-crying and could barely speak, but I felt like that piece of chocolate meant something. It felt important.
We got back in the bus and started driving back. As we drove up the hill, I looked out the window and noted the charming German houses with their cute little flower-boxes built in the eighteen-hundreds and earlier.
Then, I looked out the window.
From the bus I could see over the walls and into the camp. From the road, I could see the barracks that they had a rebuilt as a museum. In my imagination, I superimposed the pictures of grotesque human suffering perpetrated in that concentration camp some sixty years ago onto the quaint, well-manicured museum grounds there today.
It was those flowers. The flowers in the front yards and the cute little picturesque flower-boxes that struck me.
From those windows, while tending those flowers, the people who lived in those houses could see into the camp.
They could always see.
I thought how? How could people wake up every morning and see that out their bedroom window?
I realize now in 2016, that I really don't want to find out.
Fast Forward
It's been almost two years since I last updated this blog! In that time, BeeToddler has become BeePreschooler (she loves DC Super Hero Girls, My Little Pony, The Hobbit and all things adventuring, especially maps and treasure) and BeeBaby has become BeeToddler 2.0!
BoyBee mentioned that he likes to read my writing and that I don't share it enough recently, so... I'm back. Going to try to do this and stick with it since it makes me happy and maybe it will make you happy too person who is probably FaceBook/Twitter friends with me anyway.
BoyBee mentioned that he likes to read my writing and that I don't share it enough recently, so... I'm back. Going to try to do this and stick with it since it makes me happy and maybe it will make you happy too person who is probably FaceBook/Twitter friends with me anyway.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
The Art of Asking
This week, I have been looking to Amanda Palmer for reassurance. Boybee is out of town and both Beebabies are sick (Boybee and I are too, but who's counting?). I had been freaking out about how I was going to handle a toddler and a newborn by myself for a week and Boybee basically had to force me to call my family in for help, and thank God he did.
I hate asking for help. The other night as I was sitting there with my screaming baby in the ER, not having slept at all in the past 24 hours, the doctor said that we could go home or be admitted observation for 24 hours. Immediately, while crying and coughing almost as hard as my 5 week old baby, I volunteered to just go home. We would be fine, I said, I can manage. The doctor looked at me and said, no, and admitted us, and thank God she did. Part of my reasoning was that I was already asking too much of my mom and grandma and I couldn't ask them for more. They jumped at the chance to help, of course, as did my sister and my friends, (my grandma had gotten dressed and driven over at 3am when I called so that I could even go to the ER with the baby in the first place). Just thinking about waking up the toddler and taking her with me to the hospital makes me feel sick but still it took so much to make that call. I hate asking for help.
I followed the kerfuffle surrounding Amanda Palmer's kickstarter and seen her TED talk about asking for help and the artistic exchange, and I had agreed with her. Boybee runs kickstarters for work, so I know that they don't make you rich (you're more likely to lose money on them) and besides, as a fan I would rather my money go to the artist rather than the label. No one gets pissed at the music exec making millions and he's not doing anything that special. In her TED talk, she describes a musician who is uncomfortable passing the hat because "it feels too much like begging" and that resonates with me more than anything else. It feels shameful to ask for anything.
In almost every other aspect of my life, I am shameless. I pop my boob out in public to breastfeed without batting an eye. I've asked for (and gotten!) raises/promotions at work. I ask questions when I don't understand even if it might make me look stupid. If you ask me a personal question about my experiences, 9 times out of 10, I'll answer in as much detail as you will accept. I truly believe that shame is a counter productive emotion.
And yet... I can't ask for help, even when I need it. The past 36 hours have been rough, but I cannot even imagine the hell they would have been if my grandma, mom, and sister hadn't been there to take care of Toddlerbee. So many friends offered help too, though I'm not sure I'll be able to bring myself to accept any of their offers... One is easy to say no to since she is on the list of folks who we need to avoid because this virus is contagious, but maybe I'll try taking some others up on their offers?
The past 36 hours have been rough, but I don't think I've ever felt more lucky or more loved.
I hate asking for help. The other night as I was sitting there with my screaming baby in the ER, not having slept at all in the past 24 hours, the doctor said that we could go home or be admitted observation for 24 hours. Immediately, while crying and coughing almost as hard as my 5 week old baby, I volunteered to just go home. We would be fine, I said, I can manage. The doctor looked at me and said, no, and admitted us, and thank God she did. Part of my reasoning was that I was already asking too much of my mom and grandma and I couldn't ask them for more. They jumped at the chance to help, of course, as did my sister and my friends, (my grandma had gotten dressed and driven over at 3am when I called so that I could even go to the ER with the baby in the first place). Just thinking about waking up the toddler and taking her with me to the hospital makes me feel sick but still it took so much to make that call. I hate asking for help.
I followed the kerfuffle surrounding Amanda Palmer's kickstarter and seen her TED talk about asking for help and the artistic exchange, and I had agreed with her. Boybee runs kickstarters for work, so I know that they don't make you rich (you're more likely to lose money on them) and besides, as a fan I would rather my money go to the artist rather than the label. No one gets pissed at the music exec making millions and he's not doing anything that special. In her TED talk, she describes a musician who is uncomfortable passing the hat because "it feels too much like begging" and that resonates with me more than anything else. It feels shameful to ask for anything.
In almost every other aspect of my life, I am shameless. I pop my boob out in public to breastfeed without batting an eye. I've asked for (and gotten!) raises/promotions at work. I ask questions when I don't understand even if it might make me look stupid. If you ask me a personal question about my experiences, 9 times out of 10, I'll answer in as much detail as you will accept. I truly believe that shame is a counter productive emotion.
And yet... I can't ask for help, even when I need it. The past 36 hours have been rough, but I cannot even imagine the hell they would have been if my grandma, mom, and sister hadn't been there to take care of Toddlerbee. So many friends offered help too, though I'm not sure I'll be able to bring myself to accept any of their offers... One is easy to say no to since she is on the list of folks who we need to avoid because this virus is contagious, but maybe I'll try taking some others up on their offers?
The past 36 hours have been rough, but I don't think I've ever felt more lucky or more loved.
Monday, January 5, 2015
And Fall Passed Quickly By
Fall was super hectic for this PAX widow - Prime and then Australia as a single mom in my third trimester of pregnancy was a little much. We'll see how South and East with a toddler and an infant treat me! Luckily, I have family in town so I'm not actually alone, but things are always easier with two parents.
Babybee 2.0 was born and my abdominal muscles rejoiced! We followed our preset naming conventions - one name for a progenetrix and one for a Star Trek character (though 2.0's name also pays homage to a favorite Marvel character as well as our favorite restaurant).
Halloween was pretty fabulous - I went as the Death Star because Babybee 1.0 wanted to be Darth Vader. My entire life (and by that, I really mean since high school), I have wanted someone to do theme Halloween costumes with me. Boybee is so not into dressing up - he only wears his Spock costume because he has a really nice replica Starfleet Uniform. Since I can't count on my spouse, I had to go and make a whole new person for this. Last year, Babybee 1.0 was Yoda (since we had the costume as a hand-me-down) and I was gender-swapped Han Solo (since the annual Halloween party we go to had the theme of Space). This year, Babybee 1.0 wanted to be Darth Vader and being pregnant, I figured it was the perfect chance to go as the Death Star. I am still sad that I didn't end up making that Padme costume, but oh well.
Now I have two people with whom to do theme costumes and I am really pumped. It kind of sucks because PAX Australia is going to be over Halloween again in 2015 which means Boybee will once again miss the fun. And, of course, PAX East falls on Purim this year. My favorite holidays just can't win this year.
Babybee 2.0 was born and my abdominal muscles rejoiced! We followed our preset naming conventions - one name for a progenetrix and one for a Star Trek character (though 2.0's name also pays homage to a favorite Marvel character as well as our favorite restaurant).
Halloween was pretty fabulous - I went as the Death Star because Babybee 1.0 wanted to be Darth Vader. My entire life (and by that, I really mean since high school), I have wanted someone to do theme Halloween costumes with me. Boybee is so not into dressing up - he only wears his Spock costume because he has a really nice replica Starfleet Uniform. Since I can't count on my spouse, I had to go and make a whole new person for this. Last year, Babybee 1.0 was Yoda (since we had the costume as a hand-me-down) and I was gender-swapped Han Solo (since the annual Halloween party we go to had the theme of Space). This year, Babybee 1.0 wanted to be Darth Vader and being pregnant, I figured it was the perfect chance to go as the Death Star. I am still sad that I didn't end up making that Padme costume, but oh well.
 |
| That's no moon! |
Friday, August 22, 2014
I was going to post about GenCon
So, GenCon was last week and I went and it was good. I was going to post about it Monday evening but then I got the news that a a not-so-close friend of mine died in a car accident that afternoon and... it's just been a week around here in Bee-ville.
I also haven't had the heart to post about what's going on in Ferguson and my beloved St. Louis. You've probably heard everything everyone else has to say about it by now, so I wont start except that I just hope that constructive dialogue about race, economic justice, and the militarization of local police forces comes out of this and that that dialogue leads to real change.
I should say something pleasant though, because I need more joy in my world right now... So! GenCon was a blast. I hung out with many SeaMonkeys - folks who all know each other from attending the Jonathan Coulton JoCo Cruise Crazy cruise every winter. I've never been, but a bunch of my friends go, so I hung out with them and their friends and made friends! It was good. I played a few games but wasn't super impressed with any of them except for this one German kids' game that I might get for Babybee. The best part was that Boybee and I got to go on a date and I finally saw Guardians of the Galaxy. I know, I know. I said I wasn't so sure that I would care about this one, but man. Marvel really knows how to make a film! I've been listening to the soundtrack on loop quite a bit this week - it's been calming and comforting.
I leave you all with this:
I also haven't had the heart to post about what's going on in Ferguson and my beloved St. Louis. You've probably heard everything everyone else has to say about it by now, so I wont start except that I just hope that constructive dialogue about race, economic justice, and the militarization of local police forces comes out of this and that that dialogue leads to real change.
I should say something pleasant though, because I need more joy in my world right now... So! GenCon was a blast. I hung out with many SeaMonkeys - folks who all know each other from attending the Jonathan Coulton JoCo Cruise Crazy cruise every winter. I've never been, but a bunch of my friends go, so I hung out with them and their friends and made friends! It was good. I played a few games but wasn't super impressed with any of them except for this one German kids' game that I might get for Babybee. The best part was that Boybee and I got to go on a date and I finally saw Guardians of the Galaxy. I know, I know. I said I wasn't so sure that I would care about this one, but man. Marvel really knows how to make a film! I've been listening to the soundtrack on loop quite a bit this week - it's been calming and comforting.
I leave you all with this:
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Lucy
Tl;Dr Version of this post: Lucy has gotten really mixed reviews, but I'd argue this is because of poor marketing decisions. It's a campy sci-fi action movie but it's pretty low on action - there is basically no face-kicking and I was primed by the trailers to see some face-kicking and way more "serious" sci-fi. Other than that let down, it was highly enjoyable and entertaining. This movie sort of kind of meets the Bechdel Test if you squint at it.
Now the long version - SPOILERS AHEAD
Now the long version - SPOILERS AHEAD
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Random Things!
There was this FB meme going around, so I'm going to share my answers here too! Also, for those who care, I ended up buying some sea foam green leggings and already have the tunic cut out for my GenCon Padme costume! Hooray!
8 Random Things About Me!
1. I don't like odd numbers and prime numbers feel weird to me... like chalk. I've tested it and the weird prime feeling doesn't extend to the bazillion digit primes, but I think that's because those don't scan as single numbers to (they're more like ID numbers at that point).
2. I have had a "best friend" for as long as I can remember and am never without one, though the person who carries the title changes every so often.
3. I am not a kid person, but I have always known that I wanted to be a mother. I feel supremely lucky that I was able to secure a partner who is an excellent co-parent and that so far we have been successfully fertile together.
4. I generally only have one leisure activity that I do regularly at a time - I'll go months where I only read in my free time, and then months where I only sew, then months where I watch movies, etc.
5. I have only once successfully kept a plant alive through it's entire life cycle (an African Violet from my wedding).
6. My favorite color is and has always been purple, all shades.
7. I love gender and drag. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that other people do not usually deliberately choose their gender identity, and generally only do when they're not "cis." I love "being a girl" but would be just as happy (maybe happier?) "being a boy" - the tipping point for me was that I'm heteroromantic and wanted to use my uterus to make people; outwardly identifying as a girl/woman makes those things much easier. I often think that the world would be a better place if more people reflected openly on their own gender identity.
8. 8 is favorite number and always has been, I also really like 4.
8 Random Things About Me!
1. I don't like odd numbers and prime numbers feel weird to me... like chalk. I've tested it and the weird prime feeling doesn't extend to the bazillion digit primes, but I think that's because those don't scan as single numbers to (they're more like ID numbers at that point).
2. I have had a "best friend" for as long as I can remember and am never without one, though the person who carries the title changes every so often.
3. I am not a kid person, but I have always known that I wanted to be a mother. I feel supremely lucky that I was able to secure a partner who is an excellent co-parent and that so far we have been successfully fertile together.
4. I generally only have one leisure activity that I do regularly at a time - I'll go months where I only read in my free time, and then months where I only sew, then months where I watch movies, etc.
5. I have only once successfully kept a plant alive through it's entire life cycle (an African Violet from my wedding).
6. My favorite color is and has always been purple, all shades.
7. I love gender and drag. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that other people do not usually deliberately choose their gender identity, and generally only do when they're not "cis." I love "being a girl" but would be just as happy (maybe happier?) "being a boy" - the tipping point for me was that I'm heteroromantic and wanted to use my uterus to make people; outwardly identifying as a girl/woman makes those things much easier. I often think that the world would be a better place if more people reflected openly on their own gender identity.
8. 8 is favorite number and always has been, I also really like 4.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Cosplay Bucket List: Pregnancy Edition
I just had the realization that this may be my last ever pregnancy and thus my last pregnant cosplay chance - this is especially important because I intend to be obvious by GenCon and pretty darn big by Halloween. This got me thinking about what costumes I wanted to rock taking advantage of my fecundity, here are my top two (if you can think of other good ones, shout them out!)
I love Padme and this second trimeter get up would totally work for me for GenCon 2014. I've got a pair of black boots that would work and could theoretically find some aqua leggings (like these or these perhaps?), then it's a question of buying some fake suede-like beige fabric for the gauntlets and tunic, then fixing myself a space posture support vest-thing. The difficulty would be with the decorative elements - the left arm gauntlet has some embroidery which I'm having a hard time finding a clear picture of online (but I could either fake it or leave it off) and there are the broach and closure on the posture support vest-thingy:
I could get some scuply and spray paint it but I am not sure my artistic skills would be up to the challenge... I've got about 6 weeks to pull it together or to say F it and not bother... Humph.
My other pregnant cosplay desire is this meme:
My other pregnant cosplay desire is this meme:
I mean, pregnant Batman. The issue is of course that I wouldn't have a superman to go with (Boybee works while at conventions these days and I don't think I have any friends going). I could go the lazy meme route and get something like this though...
Except with my belly hanging out... Because I am classy like that. Yup. Very classy, or should I say 'klassy'?
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
MALEFICENT!!!!
As per my previous post, I saw Maleficent this weekend (free GrandmaBee babysitting FTW). The film was augmented by an ice cream sundae and detracted from by a mid-film power outage.
First and foremost, this film was sweet, interesting, and pretty. It wasn't OMG oscar material (except maybe for the make-up/special effects, which were very, very cool) but it was good fun. It knocked the Bechdel Test out of the park and maybe (?) failed the opposite test (I can't remember if there are any conversations between named male characters (of which there are at least three) that are not about Maleficent).
My thoughts with minimal spoilers (but yeah, definitely some spoilers) after the jump.
First and foremost, this film was sweet, interesting, and pretty. It wasn't OMG oscar material (except maybe for the make-up/special effects, which were very, very cool) but it was good fun. It knocked the Bechdel Test out of the park and maybe (?) failed the opposite test (I can't remember if there are any conversations between named male characters (of which there are at least three) that are not about Maleficent).
My thoughts with minimal spoilers (but yeah, definitely some spoilers) after the jump.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Rest in Peace, Maya Angelou
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Summer Movie Round Up
Ok, so the "summer movie season" started kind of early this year and I'm already late, but here is a round up of the movies I deem "baby sitter worthy" for the 2014 action/comic/geek movie season!
A note on my metric: now that we've spawned the biggest difference in terms of how we live our lives is that we just can't go out to a bar or to see a movie any more. These types of activities require baby sitting which needs to be scheduled in advance and gets pricey ($40+ for an evening with a teenager or costs in goodwill with GrandparentsBee). So, going to see a movie has become a much planned event, the bar for which is higher than pre-spawning.
No spoilers after the cut though I will discuss currently published reviews (and Hugh Jackman's rear end).
A note on my metric: now that we've spawned the biggest difference in terms of how we live our lives is that we just can't go out to a bar or to see a movie any more. These types of activities require baby sitting which needs to be scheduled in advance and gets pricey ($40+ for an evening with a teenager or costs in goodwill with GrandparentsBee). So, going to see a movie has become a much planned event, the bar for which is higher than pre-spawning.
No spoilers after the cut though I will discuss currently published reviews (and Hugh Jackman's rear end).
Thursday, May 22, 2014
"Women's Issues"
While out and about recently, I saw a billboard that said "1 in 3 women has had an abortion" - a statistic that I've read before and that holds up against my personal experience with the women I know and love. I was just thinking about it and... why do we say "1 in 3 women" and not something like "1 in 6 people"? I mean, obviously, the stat is diluted by including roughly half the population who cannot possibly have an abortion even ... to use an oddly uncomfortable turn of phrase, even if they wanted to. But, men vote too and in a political climate where control of fertility has become on of the most important battles, I worry that we have made abortion into a "women's issue" same thing with rape - men can be victims of rape and are also victimized unfairly by rape culture.
To continue this ramble, I continue to be alarmed that men are demonstrating in the streets for access to effective birth control measures that they have a say in - and dudes, anyone who thinks a condom is effective birth control better start decorating the nursery now (I hear safari animals are still in vogue!).
So, yeah... why are there "women's issues" separate from those that concern all of us? Why do we let "pro-business" men off the hook for voting in rape apologists who are more eager to control my uterus than tariffs?
I just think that I'm tired of being penned in, of not really getting a full choice, because I'm forced to vote for whichever idiot will at least grant me full personhood.
To continue this ramble, I continue to be alarmed that men are demonstrating in the streets for access to effective birth control measures that they have a say in - and dudes, anyone who thinks a condom is effective birth control better start decorating the nursery now (I hear safari animals are still in vogue!).
So, yeah... why are there "women's issues" separate from those that concern all of us? Why do we let "pro-business" men off the hook for voting in rape apologists who are more eager to control my uterus than tariffs?
I just think that I'm tired of being penned in, of not really getting a full choice, because I'm forced to vote for whichever idiot will at least grant me full personhood.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Motherhood in America: The Dystopian Future is Now
Save the Children, a non-profit that works internationally to raise money and advocate for children's health and educational opportunities, just came out with it's annual State of the World's Mothers Report. For those of us living in the United States, it looks pretty dismal.
In 2000, 2004, and once again in 2006, the U.S. was listed as one of the top 10 countries in which to be a mother in the world. We've slowly dropped in rank and are listed in the 2014 report at 31st. This rating is mainly a measure of something we in public health call "maternal mortality" which is the polite way of saying "how likely it is that any given woman will die while pregnant."
Seriously. Let's rewind a second and unpack that. In measuring how likely a woman is going to die during the 40weeks of pregnancy or immediately following birth. That could be because of an illegal or otherwise botched abortion. That could be due because she had an unluckily attached placenta that took over her uterus. That could be due to high blood pressure or blood clotting, both common in pregnancy. That could be due to infection, sexually transmitted or otherwise. It could be due to her violent partner. Any reason really.
Now that we're out of the Downton Abbey days of medical mystery, people rarely think about death when they see the two little pink lines on that home pregnancy test, but the maternal mortality rate in the U.S. has been rising. Back in 1990, it was around 12.4 women out of every 100,000 who would die. Today, it's 18.5 per 100,000.
To give you an idea of what those numbers look like, imagine the city of Chicago, which is approximately 2.7 million people. Assume that half are women, so that's 1.35 million people. The difference between a rate of 12.4 and 18.5 is 6.1 extra women dying per 100,000. In Chicago, that 82 women. 82 extra deaths. Now, because math, this does not mean that there were actually 250 maternal deaths in Chicago in 2014 because this is a statistic that looks at risk over life time, but I find that numbers make more sense when they are to scale. Each year, approximately 700 pregnant women die in the United States - seeing as how few women are pregnant at any given time (somewhere around 2% of women), that's a lot.
So why is this? Why when the U.S. outspends most of the world on health care do we have a maternal mortality rate that rivals Chile's? I have a theory.
In 2000, 2004, and once again in 2006, the U.S. was listed as one of the top 10 countries in which to be a mother in the world. We've slowly dropped in rank and are listed in the 2014 report at 31st. This rating is mainly a measure of something we in public health call "maternal mortality" which is the polite way of saying "how likely it is that any given woman will die while pregnant."
Seriously. Let's rewind a second and unpack that. In measuring how likely a woman is going to die during the 40weeks of pregnancy or immediately following birth. That could be because of an illegal or otherwise botched abortion. That could be due because she had an unluckily attached placenta that took over her uterus. That could be due to high blood pressure or blood clotting, both common in pregnancy. That could be due to infection, sexually transmitted or otherwise. It could be due to her violent partner. Any reason really.
Now that we're out of the Downton Abbey days of medical mystery, people rarely think about death when they see the two little pink lines on that home pregnancy test, but the maternal mortality rate in the U.S. has been rising. Back in 1990, it was around 12.4 women out of every 100,000 who would die. Today, it's 18.5 per 100,000.
To give you an idea of what those numbers look like, imagine the city of Chicago, which is approximately 2.7 million people. Assume that half are women, so that's 1.35 million people. The difference between a rate of 12.4 and 18.5 is 6.1 extra women dying per 100,000. In Chicago, that 82 women. 82 extra deaths. Now, because math, this does not mean that there were actually 250 maternal deaths in Chicago in 2014 because this is a statistic that looks at risk over life time, but I find that numbers make more sense when they are to scale. Each year, approximately 700 pregnant women die in the United States - seeing as how few women are pregnant at any given time (somewhere around 2% of women), that's a lot.
So why is this? Why when the U.S. outspends most of the world on health care do we have a maternal mortality rate that rivals Chile's? I have a theory.
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