Just wanted to write an interaction that occurred between my three-year-old niece and me after Christmas dinner because it makes me smile every time I think about it.
My three-year-old niece had been pressing on my chest and staring at my boobs for almost the whole afternoon of Christmas Day. I get it, I wanted to tell her. They're huge.
"Aunt Jen, what's in your tummies?" she asked in her little girl voice.
"Well, we just ate, " I explained, "so my tummy is full of steak!"
"Noooooooo," she said, "what's in your CHEST TUMMIES?" Then she pulled my shirt down.
"These?" I asked, pointing at my breasts while holding the neck of my shirt up, since she was trying her hardest to pull it down again, "These are boobs." I pointed at her chest. "You have them too. They'll get bigger when you start growing up."
My niece stared at me incredulously. She grabbed the neck of her shirt and looked down at her chest. Then she fell back on the couch laughing and screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOO!"
I started laughing too. "Kid, you have no idea."
30 Day of Yoga is going really well. I'll give you an update this week!
*Because I don't know if this happens to thirty-one-year-old married men or women with no children outside of the Midwest.
The following vignettes are presented to you so that I might try to understand what it is about me that invites this type of commentary. Is it simply that I am now in my thirties?
Vignette One: After Eleven Years of a Fairly Happy Relationship
You ain't cool, unless you pee your pants have kids
Background: This is an amalgam of conversations I've had with people when they find out we've been together for a long time.
Person: You've been together for a long time! And married for six years now! That is so great! Any kids?
Me: Nope, we're just living life. Hanging out. Working. Having fun.
Person: And how old are you?
Me: 31.
Person: What? Why no kids? You two would be great parents!
Me: Um, I don't know. We're just busy. Working. Traveling. Watching Netflix. Going out to eat. Living.
Person: I don't even know what marriage would BE like without kids. I wouldn't WANT to know! You guys are just missing out! It's SO special seeing your genes mix with your husband's genes! You have to have kids like, now. Knowing look. You don't want to get too busy. Then you'll be 40 and your eggs will be all dried up!
Me: I am going over there.
Vignette Two: A Conversation with a Strange Old Man at the Gym
Background: I did my usual swim workout and went for my usual stretch in the hot tub afterwards. I was just sitting in the hot tub minding my own business when the Strange Old Man (SOM) started assessing my life.
SOM: Hey there young lady! How was your workout?
Me: It was great! Just stretching out. Leans back and closes eyes.
SOM: Why are you here in the afternoon? Someone got the kids for ya?
Me: Nope... I have the afternoon off. I decided to work out in the afternoon.
SOM: Well do you have any kids?
Me: Sits up and open eyes. Nope.
SOM: Well are you MARRIED?
Me: Yep.
SOM: But no kids.
Me: No.
SOM: How old you?
Me: 31.
SOM: Well that is just wrong. You should have kids. We have SIX kids and THIRTEEN grandchildren! Yep, started when we were 19. As a woman, it is your JOB to have children! SERIOUSLY AND FOR REAL, he then EYES MY BODY UP AND DOWN with beady eyes as I stand up to leave the travesty that is this conversation. Plus, you've got those childbearing hips. Can't let those go to waste.
Me: Jaw automatically juts out. Vein sticks out of neck. Walks to lifeguard and reports the SOM. She says he says shit like that to random people all the time and to tell her if he does it again. Stand and glare at him before leaving the pool area.
Vignette Three: When I Work with Little Kids at My Job
Background: I mostly work with high school aged youth at my amazing job, but sometimes I have to work with kids of all ages. It's awkward with kids ages 8-11. They do not get me and I do not get them. Crickets. No laughter at my jokes. But kids ages 6 and under? It's good times for everyone-- even if I throw my back out from crawling around with them.
Person (after watching me run around with little kids): You don't want to be a mother? You'd be SUCH a great mommy! You have so much energy!
Me: I never said I don't want to be a mother. I just don't want to right now.
Person: Knowingly. Well don't wait toooooo long. You don't want to waste that motherly potential!
Me: K, thanx, bye.
Vignette Four: Populate the Earth. It's Your Responsibility
Background: This happened when I was talking to an older retired woman.
Person: You are in your thirties. You are married. Why haven't you had kids yet?
Me: Oh you know. Trying to work on other stuff right now. Enjoying my man. No big deal.
Person: Um, yes. It is a big deal. Do you know what the birth rate in the United States is right now? It's low because none of YOU young women want to have children. You're all just focusing on other things and not what is important. It's selfish. Do you know who is going to take care of you when you're old?!?!
Me: Trying to lighten the mood. Hopefully one of my old students who remembers how cool I was and doesn't let me sit in a wet diaper, amiright?
Person: No. This society is backwards.
Me: Um. Well. Okay. So. I'm gonna go over there.
Vignette Five: You Don't Have Kids So You Don't Get It
Background:
Me: Did you just have to yell like that at those kids? That was harsh.
Person: Listen. You don't have kids. You don't have a family. You don't understand because you've never experienced raising. a. child.
Me: I don't know, if I haven't started yelling harshly at this point in my life, I can't see myself doing it if I have kids. Bee tee dubs, I have a family. The Hubs, our dogs, and me.
Person: Smugly. You'll understand someday. But you don't get it. You don't have kids.
Background: I have a new ob-gyn because my wonderful midwife in her 70s has retired and the practice I went to has closed. This has nothing to do with the new ob-gyn, but I have to share that after about ten years of annual exams with forgettable people, the first time I had an annual with my former midwife, she gave me the most detailed description of my uterus and cervix that I have ever received in my life. She was beautiful. I will never have that again. Anyway, last week I talked to my new ob-gyn about how I think I want to go off of the pill. I've been reading about hormones and the pill and women's bodies and I am thinking about it, despite the fact that I fear mood swings and adult acne. I want to know-- what's my body like without hormones? Also, maybe I will want to try to have a baby in the next few years. This leads me to my conversation with my new ob-gyn.
Me: I think I want to go off the pill sometime soon. Because hormones. And a maybe-baby if I can get pregnant. In like, a few years.
Ob-gyn: How old are you?
Me: 31.
Ob-gyn: Well, you want to do it before you're 35. You are born with all of the eggs you're ever going to have. You just carry those eggs around with you for your whole life. The longer you carry those eggs with you, the more tossed around and worn they get, ya know? Haha, you know what I mean. You have a huge chance of birth defects after 35 because your eggs are just getting old.
Me: No pressure or anything. Me (internally overacting because all of the above vignettes combined to make my emotions boil over in total anger and annoyance-- I know he was just doing his job and there is truth in his words but I was still super irritated): So I guess I should just pregnant RIGHT NOW because my precious eggs probably have CRACKS ALL OVER THEM. And since I'm 31, they must have MOLD GROWING ALL OVER THEM so I'm probably going to have a MOLDY MAYBE-BABY. Also, I guess the Hubs and I and the dogs aren't a REAL FAMILY because we don't have kids. Plus, I am doing a HORRIBLE job populating the WHOLE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. And these HIPS? They need to be used for CHILDBEARING, RIGHT?! IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE SAYING, SIR?!
Here is the point, my friends. I don't hate people with kids. I want to try to have kids someday, which I will be writing about in my next post. This is a PSA. Remember that not every person needs to hear every thought you have on the subject of baby-having because maybe that person is thinking about their own stuff and they have their own plans and the comments have maybe been piling up more and more with every passing birthday and it's annoying, ya dig?
Trying to be ladylike has always perplexed me. I have a mental file folder of the times when people tried to make me feel bad about not being ladylike.
Well, eff those people.
Case in point: College, upstairs apartment living. The first time of many that a stranger looked me in the face and accused me of being un-ladylike. I often stomped up the stairs to our apartment because I'm always stomping somewhere. It probably didn't help that I wore Doc Marten boots with thick soles. Anyway, I was stomping up the stairs to grab something and stomping down the stairs to get to work when I was confronted at the door by the Tiny Blond Woman Who Squatted at Her Boyfriend's Apartment Under the Stairs. Here is an excerpt from our conversation:
TBWWSAHBAUTS: HEY! HEY YOU!
Me: Me?
TBWWSAHBAUTS: YEAH! YOU!
Me: Yeah?
TBWWSAHBAUTS: You are CONSTANTLY STOMPING up and down the stairs like an ELEPHANT. WHY hasn't ANYONE taught you how to be a LADY?!
Me, attempting to be meek: Sorry.
TBWWSAHBAUTS: Just be more of a LADY!!!
Me, heading out to my job on a line: Otay. I'll try.
Well, eff that lady, and eff trying to walk softly and be a lady.
I saw this video today about being un-ladylike and it made me so happy:
There are people out there just like me!
I recently had a week of run-ins concerning my un-ladylike antics that made me feel like maybe I should try to be more of what a lady is expected to be. Case in point (number two): I was attending a fancy party said week that housed a buffet chock full of lobster tail, fried green tomatoes, and handmade gelato, so I was already feeling unable to control my foodcitemnet. I was--seriously-- planning out my plate-by-plate attack of the delicacies on the buffet. I was sitting by strangers (all men) and they were all shooting the breeze and talking about things I don't care about (sports, helicopters, blah-blah) while I ate a plate of fried green tomatoes and two lobster tails. I was also trying to sneak out my phone to take a picture of my plate. Here is the conversation that followed:
Helicopter Man: Slow down there killer.
Me: Why?
Helicopter Man: It's not ladylike.
Me: You're ladylike. I'm getting gelato.
So there.
I've been focusing less on apologizing for who I am and what I do and more on just enjoying who I am. I want to be the old woman lady with the wild long white hair and unapologetic opinions.
Lipgloss. My favorite kind of makeup.
I...
...don't wear makeup and don't care if I ever start.
...wear flannel pajama pants with hole-y and stained t-shirts when I go to the grocery store.
...sometimes have dirt under my fingernails.
...like wearing a backpack instead of a purse.
...enjoy a good gin on the rocks.
...eat in an unattractive fashion because food needs to be in my mouth.
...can't keep heels on for longer than thirty minutes.
*Disclaimer: It's the end of the school year. My posts might be more school related than usual. This is the post where I describe how I wanted to go all Homer Simpson on a student but I kept it cool.
Please excuse me.
I teach seniors and since it's the end of the school year, they are getting-- as my babies would say-- cray.
Take for example, my student (now known as Kid) who was on a Wednesday mission to make me blow up. It didn't work, but geez. The kid was thisclose.
Let me set the scene.
Setting- Computer lab
Me- Walking around helping seniors with multi-genre research papers.
Kid- 18-year-old senior
The Situation- I just handed back a "final draft" that had been written in pencil on a crumpled piece of paper. I told the student to revise it so I could enter a better grade in the book.
Here is the conversation.
Kid: You gave me a D on this? WHY?
Me: Hey man, it's only your first draft! You've got to redo it. When you analyze something you've got to have more than two sentences, you know? Remember when we talked about deep reading and analytical writing?
Kid: I hate this class. (Types "I HATE YOUR CLASS" into the Google search box.)
Me: You know, we could spend this time revising your work together instead of doing silly things like that.
Kid: I don't revise work. We've been over this. My work is perfect the first time. (Under breath) You never help me. I hate your class. This is stupid. You give too much work.
Me: Remember when we read Anne Lamott's essay "Shitty First Drafts"? This is kind of what she was talking about. This piece of paper is just a starter.
Kid: (Mimic-y tone) I don't do revision. My work is perfect.
Me: (Sighs. Probably audibly) Okay, well, why don't you edit the work? See where you put "there" instead of "their"? You could fix that.
Kid: No. (Flatly) My draft is perfect. (Types "THIS SUX ITS TO MUCH WORK" into the Google search box.)
Me: Okayyyyy, well I'm going to go over there and work with some other students because this is going nowhere. Let me know when you want to workshop your writing.
Kid: (Under breath) I don't need your stupid help. You make me do too much thinking. You are dumb. I don't revise work. Duh. Ugh. I don't like you. You suck. This work is too much. blah. blah. blah. blah. blah. blah.
Kid spent the next 40 minutes of class talking to a different kid next to him about how I was expecting too much work from people who are about the graduate from high school and typing things like "Ms H is dumb" into Google because he knew I would walk by and see the screen.
What I was doing in my head during this whole situation.
UGH! If this was a different kind of school, in a different time, in a different country I would have gone cray on the Kid! Geez Kid! This is all I have to say to you with memes on my blog because I can't say it to your face even though I realllllllly want to:
Hey Kid, you think you are gonna get through a college class with that 'tude? Well...
Okay Kid, perhaps you will (sadly) never use analysis skills to read the world. I'm at the very least trying to help you understand witty things like this:
