Keeping our Offbeatlings upbeat in the face of gender judgement
The world is a difficult place for children… how can a sensitive child feel free to express himself differently from others in a world where “different” is “bad?”
Finding peace with my new stay-at-home life
All the pregnancy books have one sentence about how difficult it can be transitioning to stay-at-home life… but I didn’t anticipate a full-on identity crisis.
My growing boy and the flowered pants
Last month while on clothing expedition, he selected from a shelf a pair of bold, pink flower-covered cotton pants and asked me to buy them for him. I heard a disembodied voice that could only be mine reply stiffly, “Let’s take a look at these pants. Do these look like boy pants, or girl pants?”
Who’s watching the baby?
I’m not offended when I’m asked these questions, at least not for me. But I feel a little irked for Andrew. What, because he is a man the best he can do is “babysit” his child?
Yes, I am a feminist housewife
I am a feminist. I believe firmly that a woman’s “place” is wherever she wants and needs to be. (I wish very much that we lived in a world where that were possible for all women). I also believe that happy (reasonably) well-adjusted parents make happy, (reasonably) well adjusted children, regardless of whether those parents work outside or inside of the home. So why is it that I find it so difficult to answer the question: “What do you do for a living?” I find it equally distressing to respond to the ever present: “So, when are you going back to work?”
So, what do your kids call their genitals?
o there I was…about to sit down for some lunch with my father, step-mother, Ranger and The Kids. Ranger and Big J were wrestling in the living room when Big J shrieked with laughter, “Daaadddy, you hit me in my penis!”
Is feminist motherhood an oxymoron?
I’ve been having a very difficult time trying to marry my feminist ideals with my thoughts on what a mother should do, and I have a lot of hang-ups about whether or not I’m making enough sacrifices for my daughter.
Why you should forget the mothering magazines
The hardest part of being a mother is trying to be a mother. Let me clarify: The hardest part of being a mother is trying to be the mother everyone tells you you must be.