No memory…

One of the downsides to paying attention is just that, I know what is happening. To details, to nuances, to patterns, to repetition, to people making the same mistakes time and again. I don’t understand what is happening in our political climate. I miss Daniel Schorr. I wonder what he would have to say about all of this.  The thing is, I get it. I understand the positioning that the GOP is doing in order to prepare for the next election and place themselves perfectly to “show” the public how they stopped the liberal agenda, stuck solidly to their ideals and proved that when push came to shove, they weren’t moving. Cliche, cliche, cliche. What is infuriating to me is that they think the American public is stupid enough to think that the issues that come before Congress are as simple as yes or no, right and wrong. Stupid enough to think that unwavering commitment to a position gets things solved, not compromise. (Are any of them married)?

I listen and I read and I watch as our country unravels. I feel angry, sad and defeated. I can only imagine how Obama feels. Is it always like this? If it is, it is no wonder that things never change. No progress can ever be made if the next election is always more important than the business of our country.

The really unnerving part of this is that the GOP DOES get it… the American public will fall for it and we’ll start all over again.

 

Milking It…

My husband recently heard a story on NPR that finally got across to him something I have never been able to fully explain about all the “stuff” women keep in their heads and why being a mother, and, frankly, a wife, is more work than being the male counterpart. The NPR piece was about a short story written by Helen Thompson called Night Thoughts in which the male narrator takes on all the worry usually delegated to the woman.  Thompson points out that, while it is helpful to pick-up milk on the way home from work, the real work is in thinking to buy the milk.  Ah ha! YES! That is exactly what is difficult about being the woman. While Superdad can come home from work proudly holding the gallon of milk high overhead while using it to wave to the neighbors, sweep into the midst of dinner and pull the children into immediate smiles with goofy faces and special treats from work (man, that pen cap and calculator he just couldn’t bear to throw away sure did make great gifts for us to pick-up off the floor later), it is the woman who is standing idly by with a tight smile on her face thinking about how the kids really have 13 minutes to finish dinner before it is time for a bath if they plan to be in bed even reasonably close to their normal bedtime, which they need to be so that she can finish the two hours of work she left on her desk at work, finish the laundry and pack lunches for the next day before she finally falls heavily into bed just in time to secure 7 hours of sleep before it all starts again tomorrow. Phew.

Now when my husband says, “I’ll handle dinner. What do you want?” instead of getting a heavy and angry sigh from me about the decision I STILL have to make, he says, “This is one of those ‘buying the milk versus thinking to the buy the milk’ things, right? I get it. I’ll decide.” It’s so liberating. So go on, ladies, tell ‘em to quit buying the fucking milk and start thinking about buying milk!

The weight of our world…

My mother picked up the baby carseat, baby in tow, and said, “I don’t know how you women carry all this weight around!” I laughed and shrugged it off, like I do all the “weights” that find their way into my life since becoming a mother. The weight. We are the generation of women who were raised by feminists who fought for their rights and raised us to believe that we could be anything, literally anything, we wanted to be. They were right and we all went for it with full force. We excelled in school, refused to be intimidated by the men in our classes, bought feminist bumper stickers for our first cars, felt secure being opinionated in our college courses, charged into the workforce, rose to the top of our careers and then… and then we decided to become mothers, later in life, not late, just later than our mothers did. And now we face the weight of well-established careers clashing with developing motherhood. Fathers with careers who also take any role in their children’s lives are praised and heralded as WONDERFUL fathers. Meanwhile, we balance full-time careers, all the responsibilities of running a home, raising children and coordinating care, and we’re just mothers… expected to balance it flawlessly, always feeling like we could do a better job. Then, there’s that nagging little voice that sounds like the women of a generation who fought for this privilege that tells us to be happy that we can have it all. But, that other little voice, the fully feminine one with its pretty little voice, keeps whispering to me about the joy being a full-time mother would be,  too.  The scale is tipped and I feel the weight with full force.

Little feet, big steps

NPR blares in the background as I marvel at the long, slender toes I helped create.

So many steps await these little feet, but in what world?

Almost 3 years ago, I stood in line with my first son, waiting to vote, waiting to change history, so full of HOPE. WE did.

Indiana went blue. I coudn’t wait for that little one to take his first steps in a changed world.

Three years later, NPR renews my fear of the GOP agenda and I fear the tenuous steps my second son must now take.

Daily musings

I promise not to waste time posting about what I had for dinner or what someone did in traffic today that made me mad.

However, I will be honest, I might curse (especially since this has been limited at home by my echoing 3-year old), and I will go off sometimes… but it will all be out of the hope for change and intelligent discourse. So read on, if you will.