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Sunday, October 26, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
Parent-Teacher Conference 101
I had Lily's first ever kindergarten parent-teacher conference this week. To all of my friends that have kids older than Lily, I am side-eyeing the shit out of you right now for not telling me how stressful this is.
I was really nervous, as in, I felt like I was going into a job interview. It just felt like it was going to be a test of my character, a test of what kind of parent I am, what kind of parents we are, even though we're not technically we anymore. I felt like it was judgement day, a meeting of first true impressions, a meeting where this teacher would predict Lily's entire future based on what kind of mom I seem to be. I had this enormous battle in my mind about how this teacher was going to view this split life that my child is now living, since she was already aware of the impending divorce. Does she judge me for this? Does she know that I'm fucking up my kid? I'm assuming we're all fucking up our kids somehow but surely those who divorce are doomed. All a bit irrational and dramatic, absolutely, but that's how my monkey mind works.
This teacher, God love her, is a 35 year veteran of the field, which made my irrational fears even more pronounced. I was feeling as though she could smell the fear on me, like an animal would. She is by no means a scary woman. She is a sweet, southern belle from Tennessee with long blond hair that reaches past her butt, wears long flowing skirts, and has the most gentle voice I have ever heard. But knowing she's been assessing parents' and dealing with our shit for 35 years, she can certainly smell fear on us. I truly felt as though she could see right through me, knowing that I don't even like kids, aside from my own. I was prepared for all the judgement... especially when I realized less than 5 minutes into the meeting that Lily's dad wasn't going to show up. Oh.My.God. Now we're that dysfunctional of a family.
As she started diving into the gigantic stack of paperwork she had to go over with me, the anxiety in me shifted from my own insecurities over to the metrics she started slapping in front of me. Computer generated assessments with Lily's name stamped all over them that truly looked like they were written in Japanese. The teacher was feverishly explaining each piece of paper, what it was assessing, how Lily faired based on "standards", where Lily needs improvement, what grade level Lily is preforming at for math and reading, what a 1.25 in math meant versus a .78 in reading meant, what they will assess each quarter. I'm pretty sure I stopped listening at one point because this was so overwhelming. The whole dynamic of the meeting began to shift as I slowly began to realize, this teacher does not have time to judge me. All she has time to do is "assess and reassess", in her own words.
I watched her as she was relaying all of this "necessary" information to me, as she is almost breathless because there was just so much to go through and surely we were in a time crunch because she needed to get to one of the other 17 parents in the class right after me. It started to become clear as day that the only judging she's doing is on herself because that's what the government is telling her to do. Assess and reassess. These kids are supposedly just a reflection of her in the state's eyes. This poor teacher, along with all of the other public school teachers, have a ridiculous amount of stress put on them with all of these assessments and standards.
All of my original questions went by the way-side because honestly, at this point, I just wanted to know why the hell my five-year-old needs to know what a trapezoid is. I do not even know what a trapezoid is, for Christ's sake. Seriously. Screw wanting to know if my kid is well behaved because I doubt that this lady has one second to truly focus on a student's behavior, as long as it's not extreme, because she's too busy with these damn metrics. We spent approximately 25 minutes discussing assessment results and 5 minutes discussing Lily. That is beyond backwards to me.
So, I did what every obnoxious but well-meaning parent would do: I stopped her mid-whirlwind discussion and said, in the nicest way possible, "Um, what happened to kindergarten?? Isn't Lily just supposed to learn her ABC's and 123's? What IS all of this? They're FIVE!". The teacher took a giant deep breath and paused. "Well, I know. I agree. I really dislike what we have to do here. My first kindergarten class in 1978 had nothing more than a kitchen, some books, and a playhouse. None of this", she explained, as she looked down at the pile of paperwork that was now accumulating in front of me.
Listen, I already had a tremendous respect for teachers before this meeting. This is one job I could honestly never do. First and foremost, I hate kids, but for what teachers get paid compared to what they have to do is nothing short of obscene. Paperwork, grading, lesson plans, puking kids, behavior problems, shitty parents, the list goes on, but then to have these Core Standards, or whatever the hell they're calling it now, dictate how these teachers are required to teach? It's complete bullshit.
As a society, we're all sitting around scratching our head's wondering why ADD/ADHD is on the rise? Why are mental disorders such as depression and anxiety showing up more often in childhood? Why are our kids getting sick so much more often than in previous generations? Why are teen suicide rates climbing every year? I will tell you something, this academic pressure that begins at the age of five is not helping any of these issues. I will even be so bold to say, in my unscientific opinion, that it is probably one of the most severe contributing factors to all of what I mentioned. How can it not be? No matter how this work is being presented to children, it's still work. There's no rest time, very little extracurricular time for things like art, music, and science, there's no pretend play anymore. It's mostly work. Hard work for these babies. The work Lily is doing in kindergarten is what I did most likely in first or second grade. Why this pressure? I honestly would like to know why, because let's face it, America is extremely far behind when it comes to education. We don't even crack the top 20 in proficiency in math in reading globally so don't tell me that these government mandates are working.
So, what was my lesson learned in my first parent-teacher conference? Well, first I learned that it wasn't about me, which was shocking, but more importantly? Our educational system is failing our kids and teachers. Getting back to basics and taking some of the pressure off would benefit everyone. Let's go back to rest time, playing house, doing more crafts and less homework, talking to our kids about how things work instead of letting computers assess how our kids work, playing puppets instead of looking at active boards. Kids need to be kids. Let's not force them into the rat race and monkey mind so early.
As for Lily, yes, I learned she's pretty smart...but I knew that without having an assessment tool. And right now? She's playing on a playground with her dad, not doing any one of her 20 pages of homework. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I was really nervous, as in, I felt like I was going into a job interview. It just felt like it was going to be a test of my character, a test of what kind of parent I am, what kind of parents we are, even though we're not technically we anymore. I felt like it was judgement day, a meeting of first true impressions, a meeting where this teacher would predict Lily's entire future based on what kind of mom I seem to be. I had this enormous battle in my mind about how this teacher was going to view this split life that my child is now living, since she was already aware of the impending divorce. Does she judge me for this? Does she know that I'm fucking up my kid? I'm assuming we're all fucking up our kids somehow but surely those who divorce are doomed. All a bit irrational and dramatic, absolutely, but that's how my monkey mind works.
This teacher, God love her, is a 35 year veteran of the field, which made my irrational fears even more pronounced. I was feeling as though she could smell the fear on me, like an animal would. She is by no means a scary woman. She is a sweet, southern belle from Tennessee with long blond hair that reaches past her butt, wears long flowing skirts, and has the most gentle voice I have ever heard. But knowing she's been assessing parents' and dealing with our shit for 35 years, she can certainly smell fear on us. I truly felt as though she could see right through me, knowing that I don't even like kids, aside from my own. I was prepared for all the judgement... especially when I realized less than 5 minutes into the meeting that Lily's dad wasn't going to show up. Oh.My.God. Now we're that dysfunctional of a family.
As she started diving into the gigantic stack of paperwork she had to go over with me, the anxiety in me shifted from my own insecurities over to the metrics she started slapping in front of me. Computer generated assessments with Lily's name stamped all over them that truly looked like they were written in Japanese. The teacher was feverishly explaining each piece of paper, what it was assessing, how Lily faired based on "standards", where Lily needs improvement, what grade level Lily is preforming at for math and reading, what a 1.25 in math meant versus a .78 in reading meant, what they will assess each quarter. I'm pretty sure I stopped listening at one point because this was so overwhelming. The whole dynamic of the meeting began to shift as I slowly began to realize, this teacher does not have time to judge me. All she has time to do is "assess and reassess", in her own words.
I watched her as she was relaying all of this "necessary" information to me, as she is almost breathless because there was just so much to go through and surely we were in a time crunch because she needed to get to one of the other 17 parents in the class right after me. It started to become clear as day that the only judging she's doing is on herself because that's what the government is telling her to do. Assess and reassess. These kids are supposedly just a reflection of her in the state's eyes. This poor teacher, along with all of the other public school teachers, have a ridiculous amount of stress put on them with all of these assessments and standards.
All of my original questions went by the way-side because honestly, at this point, I just wanted to know why the hell my five-year-old needs to know what a trapezoid is. I do not even know what a trapezoid is, for Christ's sake. Seriously. Screw wanting to know if my kid is well behaved because I doubt that this lady has one second to truly focus on a student's behavior, as long as it's not extreme, because she's too busy with these damn metrics. We spent approximately 25 minutes discussing assessment results and 5 minutes discussing Lily. That is beyond backwards to me.
So, I did what every obnoxious but well-meaning parent would do: I stopped her mid-whirlwind discussion and said, in the nicest way possible, "Um, what happened to kindergarten?? Isn't Lily just supposed to learn her ABC's and 123's? What IS all of this? They're FIVE!". The teacher took a giant deep breath and paused. "Well, I know. I agree. I really dislike what we have to do here. My first kindergarten class in 1978 had nothing more than a kitchen, some books, and a playhouse. None of this", she explained, as she looked down at the pile of paperwork that was now accumulating in front of me.
Listen, I already had a tremendous respect for teachers before this meeting. This is one job I could honestly never do. First and foremost, I hate kids, but for what teachers get paid compared to what they have to do is nothing short of obscene. Paperwork, grading, lesson plans, puking kids, behavior problems, shitty parents, the list goes on, but then to have these Core Standards, or whatever the hell they're calling it now, dictate how these teachers are required to teach? It's complete bullshit.
As a society, we're all sitting around scratching our head's wondering why ADD/ADHD is on the rise? Why are mental disorders such as depression and anxiety showing up more often in childhood? Why are our kids getting sick so much more often than in previous generations? Why are teen suicide rates climbing every year? I will tell you something, this academic pressure that begins at the age of five is not helping any of these issues. I will even be so bold to say, in my unscientific opinion, that it is probably one of the most severe contributing factors to all of what I mentioned. How can it not be? No matter how this work is being presented to children, it's still work. There's no rest time, very little extracurricular time for things like art, music, and science, there's no pretend play anymore. It's mostly work. Hard work for these babies. The work Lily is doing in kindergarten is what I did most likely in first or second grade. Why this pressure? I honestly would like to know why, because let's face it, America is extremely far behind when it comes to education. We don't even crack the top 20 in proficiency in math in reading globally so don't tell me that these government mandates are working.
So, what was my lesson learned in my first parent-teacher conference? Well, first I learned that it wasn't about me, which was shocking, but more importantly? Our educational system is failing our kids and teachers. Getting back to basics and taking some of the pressure off would benefit everyone. Let's go back to rest time, playing house, doing more crafts and less homework, talking to our kids about how things work instead of letting computers assess how our kids work, playing puppets instead of looking at active boards. Kids need to be kids. Let's not force them into the rat race and monkey mind so early.
As for Lily, yes, I learned she's pretty smart...but I knew that without having an assessment tool. And right now? She's playing on a playground with her dad, not doing any one of her 20 pages of homework. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
In the Trenches.
I've used that phrase often. In the trenches of college. In the trenches of figuring out my career. In the trenches of planning a wedding. In the trenches of new motherhood. In the trenches of toddlerhood.
I have never used that phrase for anything as painful as being in the trenches of going through a divorce.
I read a blurb today from one of my favorite female comedians, Amy Poehler, on the topic of divorce:
“Imagine spreading everything you care about on a blanket and then tossing the whole thing up in the air. The process of divorce is about loading that blanket, throwing it up, watching it all spin, and worrying what stuff will break when it lands.”
That last sentence completely resonated with me: You aren't allowed to feel special, but no one knows the specific ways you are in pain.
It's so very true. No one will ever truly know that pain as you experience it, even if they've been in a similar situation. No one knows the way you loved, the passion you felt, the way you gave, the way you cried, the hurt you endured, the specific feelings of rejection and betrayal, the unique way you have self-doubted, the contents and magnitude of the arguing, the inner struggle to stay or go multiple times, the different ways of finally letting go,...I could go on and on.
It would be remiss of me not to mention the pain that you now carry for your child(ren) throughout this process. Pain of letting go of this family structure so they can have a happy, healthier mom...eventually. The pain of managing this for them in two separate houses. The pain of making them a statistic, being a "child of divorced parents". It's a heavy burden, this type of pain, in addition to your own pain. We can all agree that staying together for the kids is not the healthy choice to make but let's face it, it's the reason many of us stay longer than we should. No one wants this for their child. No one gets married and has a child to say "Man, I cannot WAIT to go through my divorce so my kid can have two houses!". It's the most painful part, your reflection in your child's eyes, yet, the most calming.
Friends can listen, identify, empathize, hug you, cry with you, ache for you, but they cannot live your pain, nor should they. It's your path to walk, your pain to endure.
"Lonely" is an understatement in these trenches.
The whole dynamic shift that occurs while going through this process is only comparable to a death. You're missing this whole moving part of your life that you become so accustom to and dependent on. You're in this new world of self-reliance when you never wanted it or planned it this way. You're now missing that emotional connection that you clung to for so long: that confidant, the person that had to listen to your work rants and that person you shared your dreams with. You're now missing that physical connection: that person you woke up to and knew their morning routine, that person that you hugged at least a couple times a day, the person you've been most intimate with in life. You're now missing that "partner" connection: that person to call if you forgot to pick up milk on your drive home, that person to help fold laundry, your guaranteed social event date, your go-to person to take over the parenting responsibilities when you've just had enough.
Even if you're extremely independent, as I've always been, these missing pieces are all exhausting, especially with a child. Obviously sad, too, but exhausting because you're now 100% self-reliant.
So, how do you put the pieces back together? All of these things you've piled on the blanket and threw up in the air are making their descent and you're watching so many of them break as they land in different places. Some stay in tact, but most are certainly broken. Everything you've known for however long, (in my case, 12 years), has been undefined now. Everything.
You have to clean up now and redefine.
The pieces will not fit back together where they were, it's impossible, so you try to find where the pieces will fit now. You create this new normal for yourself and your child and slowly figure out where the pieces will fit. You sit with the pain when you need to because it's grief and you have no choice but to look at it in the face. On good days, you say "fuck you, grief and sadness. I'm going to have a good day", but on bad days, (and there are A LOT of bad days), you sit with it, you become ok with it...and you learn from it.
And there it is, the purpose: learning.
Throughout all of this, the only thing you're truly gaining is an education. One that is so incredibly important. You learn about yourself. You learn that you're much more capable than you ever gave yourself credit for. You learn that you're a better parent because of this. You learn who truly loves you and how to give more of yourself to those people. You learn to stop giving to those that don't. You learn how to be selfish, which is magical in it of itself. You learn how to self-preserve. You learn to see things with a fresh perspective. You judge less and love more. You learn how to forgive but not forget so you're not tempted to go down that path again. You just learn and there is so much value in that.
And about all of that loneliness? You learn it isn't so terrible. You start your own morning routine. You realize that the laundry can stay in the fucking dryer for 3 days. You ride your bike up to the corner store for milk, just to get in that extra piece of exercise. You go to dinner alone and enjoy people watching. You plan a trip alone, somewhere where YOU'VE always wanted to go. You find your love for things that you didn't know existed, like Ashtanga yoga and frilly bed quilts. You spend more time with friends and family. You shop for things only you like, not having to consider another's taste. You enjoy one-on-one time with your child. The list goes on but the point is, you're redefining yourself. It's an opportunity that not many people have in life or not many will take in life: making a new definition of who you are, here and now; meet yourself for the first time. How amazing is that?
Is the view from the trenches scary and sad? Yes. It's a trench I never wanted to explore but life had bigger plans for me. It wanted me to see a new life and it wanted to teach me to let go of a relationship and a love that was not serving me anymore. I have to open my eyes and enjoy the view from here for now.
So, to those going through this process of divorce and are in the trenches, do I understand the specific ways you are in pain? No, but we're still in it together and there is something amazing on the other side of all of this.
I have never used that phrase for anything as painful as being in the trenches of going through a divorce.
I read a blurb today from one of my favorite female comedians, Amy Poehler, on the topic of divorce:
“Imagine spreading everything you care about on a blanket and then tossing the whole thing up in the air. The process of divorce is about loading that blanket, throwing it up, watching it all spin, and worrying what stuff will break when it lands.”
“When you are a person going through a divorce you feel incredibly alone, yet you are constantly reminded by society of how frequently divorce happens and how common it has become. You aren’t allowed to feel special, but no one knows the specific ways you are in pain.”
That last sentence completely resonated with me: You aren't allowed to feel special, but no one knows the specific ways you are in pain.
It's so very true. No one will ever truly know that pain as you experience it, even if they've been in a similar situation. No one knows the way you loved, the passion you felt, the way you gave, the way you cried, the hurt you endured, the specific feelings of rejection and betrayal, the unique way you have self-doubted, the contents and magnitude of the arguing, the inner struggle to stay or go multiple times, the different ways of finally letting go,...I could go on and on.
It would be remiss of me not to mention the pain that you now carry for your child(ren) throughout this process. Pain of letting go of this family structure so they can have a happy, healthier mom...eventually. The pain of managing this for them in two separate houses. The pain of making them a statistic, being a "child of divorced parents". It's a heavy burden, this type of pain, in addition to your own pain. We can all agree that staying together for the kids is not the healthy choice to make but let's face it, it's the reason many of us stay longer than we should. No one wants this for their child. No one gets married and has a child to say "Man, I cannot WAIT to go through my divorce so my kid can have two houses!". It's the most painful part, your reflection in your child's eyes, yet, the most calming.
Friends can listen, identify, empathize, hug you, cry with you, ache for you, but they cannot live your pain, nor should they. It's your path to walk, your pain to endure.
"Lonely" is an understatement in these trenches.
The whole dynamic shift that occurs while going through this process is only comparable to a death. You're missing this whole moving part of your life that you become so accustom to and dependent on. You're in this new world of self-reliance when you never wanted it or planned it this way. You're now missing that emotional connection that you clung to for so long: that confidant, the person that had to listen to your work rants and that person you shared your dreams with. You're now missing that physical connection: that person you woke up to and knew their morning routine, that person that you hugged at least a couple times a day, the person you've been most intimate with in life. You're now missing that "partner" connection: that person to call if you forgot to pick up milk on your drive home, that person to help fold laundry, your guaranteed social event date, your go-to person to take over the parenting responsibilities when you've just had enough.
Even if you're extremely independent, as I've always been, these missing pieces are all exhausting, especially with a child. Obviously sad, too, but exhausting because you're now 100% self-reliant.
So, how do you put the pieces back together? All of these things you've piled on the blanket and threw up in the air are making their descent and you're watching so many of them break as they land in different places. Some stay in tact, but most are certainly broken. Everything you've known for however long, (in my case, 12 years), has been undefined now. Everything.
You have to clean up now and redefine.
The pieces will not fit back together where they were, it's impossible, so you try to find where the pieces will fit now. You create this new normal for yourself and your child and slowly figure out where the pieces will fit. You sit with the pain when you need to because it's grief and you have no choice but to look at it in the face. On good days, you say "fuck you, grief and sadness. I'm going to have a good day", but on bad days, (and there are A LOT of bad days), you sit with it, you become ok with it...and you learn from it.
And there it is, the purpose: learning.
Throughout all of this, the only thing you're truly gaining is an education. One that is so incredibly important. You learn about yourself. You learn that you're much more capable than you ever gave yourself credit for. You learn that you're a better parent because of this. You learn who truly loves you and how to give more of yourself to those people. You learn to stop giving to those that don't. You learn how to be selfish, which is magical in it of itself. You learn how to self-preserve. You learn to see things with a fresh perspective. You judge less and love more. You learn how to forgive but not forget so you're not tempted to go down that path again. You just learn and there is so much value in that.
And about all of that loneliness? You learn it isn't so terrible. You start your own morning routine. You realize that the laundry can stay in the fucking dryer for 3 days. You ride your bike up to the corner store for milk, just to get in that extra piece of exercise. You go to dinner alone and enjoy people watching. You plan a trip alone, somewhere where YOU'VE always wanted to go. You find your love for things that you didn't know existed, like Ashtanga yoga and frilly bed quilts. You spend more time with friends and family. You shop for things only you like, not having to consider another's taste. You enjoy one-on-one time with your child. The list goes on but the point is, you're redefining yourself. It's an opportunity that not many people have in life or not many will take in life: making a new definition of who you are, here and now; meet yourself for the first time. How amazing is that?
Is the view from the trenches scary and sad? Yes. It's a trench I never wanted to explore but life had bigger plans for me. It wanted me to see a new life and it wanted to teach me to let go of a relationship and a love that was not serving me anymore. I have to open my eyes and enjoy the view from here for now.
So, to those going through this process of divorce and are in the trenches, do I understand the specific ways you are in pain? No, but we're still in it together and there is something amazing on the other side of all of this.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Dear Chili's,
I was in your local "friendly neighborhood bar and grill" last week picking up my bi-weekly, (ok, weekly), to-go quesadillas. I really have fallen back in love with some of your food. I broke up with you for awhile but I'm kind of addicted right now. Sometimes I get that amazing quesadilla explosion salad. What DO you put in that dressing?
I digress. Already.
As I was standing there waiting in the to-go pick-up area, I looked down the aisle and noticed the place was decorated with pink and purple streamers. I looked around at the tables nearby and noticed a lot of little girls with tiaras on and pink goody bags in front of them.
"Cute", I thought. "Must be a birthday party".
But it looked a little too disjointed to be a party. The dead giveaway was the table of 6 guys in their late 20's sitting directly across the aisle from some of the said tiara-ed girls. Just didn't fit. But I couldn't quite figure out what was going on. There were a lot of iPhones being pulled out to take pictures and there was certainly a fair share of some annoyed looking dad faces.
Just when I decided to give up on figuring out this mystery and chalked it up to some princess-in-training camp, assuming the 20 year old guys were just misplaced, I hear the hostess say to a newly sat table "Oh, its father-daughter night here!", which was clearly in response to the new table's question about the pink explosion.
OHHHHHHHHH, ok. I got it. Still cute. But, now... I was irritated a bit, Chili's.
Let me say, I LOVE that your restaurant has hopped on the gravy train of marketing towards kids. Smart, very smart. I mean, what better way to increase sales by luring dads in with your fully stocked bar and boneless buffalo wings, all the while getting that adorable little girl of theirs to smile with a pink bag full of fake jewels and tiaras?! This might sound like sarcasm but I assure you it is not. I think its genius.
However, I was just curious, did it occur to your marketing department that some girls hate pink and princesses, and tiaras, and fake jewels?
This made me wonder, is there a mother-son night? Well, of course there is, (according to the to-go server)! Which, I can only assume is adorned with baseballs, blue/green streamers, and sports themed, blue goody bags. AMIRITE???
On both accounts, it seems you are limiting your market a bit. There are boys who don't care about sports and have the favorite color of pink, believe it or not.
My experience at your restaurant just perpetuated my annoyance for all of these gender stereotypes that are contributing to a larger cultural issue, but more specifically, these types of events that are sprinkled in pink for girls and splashed in blue for boys are part of the reason that my 5 year old daughter is getting picked on at school for her choices.
You see, my daughter is all boy. Her favorite color is blue, her favorite characters are the Ninja Turtles, she hates anything pink, she wears boy's clothes (mostly), and yes, even insists on boy's underwear. She would completely disapprove of this father-daughter weekly event that you host, Chili's, and I know that she is not alone. I realize that the population that I'm speaking about is a relatively small percentage...but is it really? Or, have we forced these standards down our throats so much that this is just what most kids adhere to?
I will admit, if my daughter conformed to more of the social norms of the female gender, perhaps I wouldn't give any of this a second thought. Totally might be the case, no doubt. But you know, my daughter has taught me so much and this is the biggest lesson so far: acceptance and understanding.
When companies like yours, (and many, many other companies), choose to "pink and blue identify", I promise that you're contributing to a bigger problem. A problem that perpetuates division, nonacceptance, bullying, and yes, even hatred.
Since I never like to complain without giving a viable solution, may I suggest a couple of options? Maybe consider hosting a catch-all "Kid's Night", complete with gender neutral goody bags that include a small reading book, a pencil, watercolor paints, and some stickers that say, "You're brilliant!", or something along those lines? Or, if you insist on keeping the genders separate, how about implementing the above goody bag suggestions? Lose the gender specific streamers, too.
Also? Please, as a friendly reminder, remember that some kids don't have dads or moms, which goes back to considering option number one mentioned above.
The internet is swarming with some outspoken parents, Chili's. Parents like myself that are speaking out for their kids. Wonderful kids who brave to blur the gender lines. Check them out:
My Son Wears Dresses and That's OK With Me: Seth Menachem
Ryland Whittington's Story of being a young transgender
When Gender Norms Didn't Work for My Kid: Erika Kleinman
So, in closing, please just consider my suggestions, Chili's. I would love for my daughter to see she is not so different after all. She is a girl who doesn't like pink. Please be a part of the change that makes this ok for her and many others. I promise that it can only help your business. I know you will gain one little red-headed fan named Lily.
Thanks,
Mama in Sweaty Yoga Pants
PS~ McDonald's, I'm looking at you next. PLEASE stop making me choose a "boy or a girl toy" for a Happy Meal. Please just make it a TOY.
Be the change.
I digress. Already.
As I was standing there waiting in the to-go pick-up area, I looked down the aisle and noticed the place was decorated with pink and purple streamers. I looked around at the tables nearby and noticed a lot of little girls with tiaras on and pink goody bags in front of them.
"Cute", I thought. "Must be a birthday party".
But it looked a little too disjointed to be a party. The dead giveaway was the table of 6 guys in their late 20's sitting directly across the aisle from some of the said tiara-ed girls. Just didn't fit. But I couldn't quite figure out what was going on. There were a lot of iPhones being pulled out to take pictures and there was certainly a fair share of some annoyed looking dad faces.
Just when I decided to give up on figuring out this mystery and chalked it up to some princess-in-training camp, assuming the 20 year old guys were just misplaced, I hear the hostess say to a newly sat table "Oh, its father-daughter night here!", which was clearly in response to the new table's question about the pink explosion.
OHHHHHHHHH, ok. I got it. Still cute. But, now... I was irritated a bit, Chili's.
Let me say, I LOVE that your restaurant has hopped on the gravy train of marketing towards kids. Smart, very smart. I mean, what better way to increase sales by luring dads in with your fully stocked bar and boneless buffalo wings, all the while getting that adorable little girl of theirs to smile with a pink bag full of fake jewels and tiaras?! This might sound like sarcasm but I assure you it is not. I think its genius.
However, I was just curious, did it occur to your marketing department that some girls hate pink and princesses, and tiaras, and fake jewels?
This made me wonder, is there a mother-son night? Well, of course there is, (according to the to-go server)! Which, I can only assume is adorned with baseballs, blue/green streamers, and sports themed, blue goody bags. AMIRITE???
On both accounts, it seems you are limiting your market a bit. There are boys who don't care about sports and have the favorite color of pink, believe it or not.
My experience at your restaurant just perpetuated my annoyance for all of these gender stereotypes that are contributing to a larger cultural issue, but more specifically, these types of events that are sprinkled in pink for girls and splashed in blue for boys are part of the reason that my 5 year old daughter is getting picked on at school for her choices.
You see, my daughter is all boy. Her favorite color is blue, her favorite characters are the Ninja Turtles, she hates anything pink, she wears boy's clothes (mostly), and yes, even insists on boy's underwear. She would completely disapprove of this father-daughter weekly event that you host, Chili's, and I know that she is not alone. I realize that the population that I'm speaking about is a relatively small percentage...but is it really? Or, have we forced these standards down our throats so much that this is just what most kids adhere to?
I will admit, if my daughter conformed to more of the social norms of the female gender, perhaps I wouldn't give any of this a second thought. Totally might be the case, no doubt. But you know, my daughter has taught me so much and this is the biggest lesson so far: acceptance and understanding.
When companies like yours, (and many, many other companies), choose to "pink and blue identify", I promise that you're contributing to a bigger problem. A problem that perpetuates division, nonacceptance, bullying, and yes, even hatred.
Since I never like to complain without giving a viable solution, may I suggest a couple of options? Maybe consider hosting a catch-all "Kid's Night", complete with gender neutral goody bags that include a small reading book, a pencil, watercolor paints, and some stickers that say, "You're brilliant!", or something along those lines? Or, if you insist on keeping the genders separate, how about implementing the above goody bag suggestions? Lose the gender specific streamers, too.
Also? Please, as a friendly reminder, remember that some kids don't have dads or moms, which goes back to considering option number one mentioned above.
The internet is swarming with some outspoken parents, Chili's. Parents like myself that are speaking out for their kids. Wonderful kids who brave to blur the gender lines. Check them out:
My Son Wears Dresses and That's OK With Me: Seth Menachem
Ryland Whittington's Story of being a young transgender
When Gender Norms Didn't Work for My Kid: Erika Kleinman
So, in closing, please just consider my suggestions, Chili's. I would love for my daughter to see she is not so different after all. She is a girl who doesn't like pink. Please be a part of the change that makes this ok for her and many others. I promise that it can only help your business. I know you will gain one little red-headed fan named Lily.
Thanks,
Mama in Sweaty Yoga Pants
PS~ McDonald's, I'm looking at you next. PLEASE stop making me choose a "boy or a girl toy" for a Happy Meal. Please just make it a TOY.
Be the change.
Friday, August 22, 2014
It's a good thing I'm a gypsy.
I've never minded moving. I become easily bored with houses, communities, surroundings. In my adult life, I've never lived in a house for more than 6 years, which was the first home Dustin and I shared together; the house where we went from dating to engaged to married, the house we brought Lily home to. I loved that house. I mean, the house itself was just a house, but it was a home. So many wonderful memories there. So many.
Then we moved to Caraway Dr.
I can't really articulate how I feel about that house.
We needed more space. In 2010, my career was in full swing and I did a lot of work from home which needed a space. Dustin was starting his art/graphic business and needed an office as well. Our 1200 sq feet was just not cutting it, especially with a 13 month old.
We swore we would never end up in "cookie-cutter suburbia", as we called it. But, it was new construction, affordable, and the size we needed. So, we bought it.
We hated the lot from day one, being backed up to a fairly busy road, but hey, it was shiny and new and OMG, the community pool and the pretty landscaping. We drank the kool-aid maybe?
A small, illogical part of my brain blames the demise of my marriage on this house. I have no basis for this except for the timing. All I know is that my marriage started going south in late 2011, so, clearly, it was the house's fault. After the first time Dustin and I took a "break" and he came back home, we tried to sell the house to no avail. I know what I was looking for. I was looking for the person I married. I was looking for happiness. Life has a funny way of guiding and politely telling you "You're not going to find what you're looking for by doing XYorZ". It was as if Life was saying, "Hey, it's not the house, dumbass. It's your husband. He doesn't want this life", only I couldn't hear that yet in mid 2013.
But I heard it loud and clear in early 2014.
There were so many painful times in that house. So much crying, wishing, hoping, praying, arguing, wondering, darkness and hopelessness.
I said goodbye to that house on Caraway two days ago. Along with it, I said goodbye to everything that was built and fell apart inside those walls. It was such a symbolic, painful goodbye, yet, I wasn't anxious or apprehensive about doing it once the day came. It felt like the right thing to do. It was time. It was necessary.
Not to say there weren't good times there:
-Lily went from toddling to a five year old and everything that encompasses.
-We tried on a couple of dogs before I fell in love with Calypso and she rescued me.
-We hosted many holidays with a lot of laughs.
-We had an ugly sweater Christmas party and we had the BEST trick-or-treating neighborhood.
-We swam for days.
-I became addicted to yoga.
Most importantly? I learned so much about myself inside of those walls.
Some or most of the pain will follow me. I'm aware. It already has but the gypsy in me needed this change. I needed a new surrounding. I needed new walls. I needed a new start.
So, goodbye, Caraway. I'm not sure I will miss you, although you were such an important chapter to my last book. You were the finale. Thank you for your lessons.
Then we moved to Caraway Dr.
I can't really articulate how I feel about that house.
We needed more space. In 2010, my career was in full swing and I did a lot of work from home which needed a space. Dustin was starting his art/graphic business and needed an office as well. Our 1200 sq feet was just not cutting it, especially with a 13 month old.
We swore we would never end up in "cookie-cutter suburbia", as we called it. But, it was new construction, affordable, and the size we needed. So, we bought it.
We hated the lot from day one, being backed up to a fairly busy road, but hey, it was shiny and new and OMG, the community pool and the pretty landscaping. We drank the kool-aid maybe?
A small, illogical part of my brain blames the demise of my marriage on this house. I have no basis for this except for the timing. All I know is that my marriage started going south in late 2011, so, clearly, it was the house's fault. After the first time Dustin and I took a "break" and he came back home, we tried to sell the house to no avail. I know what I was looking for. I was looking for the person I married. I was looking for happiness. Life has a funny way of guiding and politely telling you "You're not going to find what you're looking for by doing XYorZ". It was as if Life was saying, "Hey, it's not the house, dumbass. It's your husband. He doesn't want this life", only I couldn't hear that yet in mid 2013.
But I heard it loud and clear in early 2014.
There were so many painful times in that house. So much crying, wishing, hoping, praying, arguing, wondering, darkness and hopelessness.
I said goodbye to that house on Caraway two days ago. Along with it, I said goodbye to everything that was built and fell apart inside those walls. It was such a symbolic, painful goodbye, yet, I wasn't anxious or apprehensive about doing it once the day came. It felt like the right thing to do. It was time. It was necessary.
Not to say there weren't good times there:
-Lily went from toddling to a five year old and everything that encompasses.
-We tried on a couple of dogs before I fell in love with Calypso and she rescued me.
-We hosted many holidays with a lot of laughs.
-We had an ugly sweater Christmas party and we had the BEST trick-or-treating neighborhood.
-We swam for days.
-I became addicted to yoga.
Most importantly? I learned so much about myself inside of those walls.
Some or most of the pain will follow me. I'm aware. It already has but the gypsy in me needed this change. I needed a new surrounding. I needed new walls. I needed a new start.
So, goodbye, Caraway. I'm not sure I will miss you, although you were such an important chapter to my last book. You were the finale. Thank you for your lessons.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Dear Lily,
It's been far too long since I've written to you, two and a half years, to be exact. Every time I sat down to write, I realized how much I had to say and I would get overwhelmed, not knowing where to start.
Today is not any different but I made a commitment to do this. Today. Today, on your first day of kindergarten.
I dropped you off at 8:30am. You weren't scared. You were excited, maybe mildly apprehensive, but excited. You said "I will miss you, mama", as we pulled into the parking lot. You were quiet during the walk to the classroom, mindfully observing the chaos that the first day of school brings to campus.
We opened the door to Mrs. Bodily's class and it was quiet. The kids were all sitting in their assigned seats, coloring. You hugged me and I said "Do you remember where your seat is?", and you said "Yessss, moooom", with a bit of teenage annoyance to your voice, as though I had insulted you. You were ready. You left my side and didn't look back. I was proud.
You've had several experiences with (pre)school already. Perhaps this was nothing new to you, aside from the larger size of the school with new kids and a new teacher. Although, you did say to me this morning, "Mom, I am a big kid now!", with enthusiasm, so I do think you understand that this is a new book you're beginning to write.
But, I will be honest, I was scared. Far more scared than you. You were far braver than I was.
On this first day of learning for you, mommy was actually learning, too, and you were my teacher...Teaching me how to let go. Letting go is such a scary thing sometimes and that's what I had to do this morning. I had to let go of your infant and toddler years. I had to let go of what was our normal. I had to let go of the control of your daily life. I had to let go of sheltering you. I had to let you go and allow you to become a big kid. I had to let go and let you start your journey into a life that you will now have memories of when you are older. I just had to do it. Let go.
I will certainly become more brave as these days go by and as this becomes our new normal. But I will not stop worrying. A mommy, especially your mommy, never stops worrying. I worry about the bullies, the germs, the pressure of learning, the strangers, the playground accidents, and everything in between.
But you? You're so brave. And smart. And happy. And easy.
Everyone at your new school is just going to love you. They are going to love how unique you are. They will love your Spider-Man backpack and your Transformer lunch box. They will love your sensitivity and your appreciation. They will love your sense of humor and your wittiness. They will love your generosity and your cautiousness. They will comment on your hair, which will annoy you, but you will be gracious and say "thanks". They will love that you will want to play Ninja Turtles and not princesses. They will just love all of you because you, you're special and I'm so proud to call you mine.
Shine bright like a diamond, love. Enjoy the journey.
Love,
Mama
Today is not any different but I made a commitment to do this. Today. Today, on your first day of kindergarten.
I dropped you off at 8:30am. You weren't scared. You were excited, maybe mildly apprehensive, but excited. You said "I will miss you, mama", as we pulled into the parking lot. You were quiet during the walk to the classroom, mindfully observing the chaos that the first day of school brings to campus.
We opened the door to Mrs. Bodily's class and it was quiet. The kids were all sitting in their assigned seats, coloring. You hugged me and I said "Do you remember where your seat is?", and you said "Yessss, moooom", with a bit of teenage annoyance to your voice, as though I had insulted you. You were ready. You left my side and didn't look back. I was proud.
You've had several experiences with (pre)school already. Perhaps this was nothing new to you, aside from the larger size of the school with new kids and a new teacher. Although, you did say to me this morning, "Mom, I am a big kid now!", with enthusiasm, so I do think you understand that this is a new book you're beginning to write.
But, I will be honest, I was scared. Far more scared than you. You were far braver than I was.
On this first day of learning for you, mommy was actually learning, too, and you were my teacher...Teaching me how to let go. Letting go is such a scary thing sometimes and that's what I had to do this morning. I had to let go of your infant and toddler years. I had to let go of what was our normal. I had to let go of the control of your daily life. I had to let go of sheltering you. I had to let you go and allow you to become a big kid. I had to let go and let you start your journey into a life that you will now have memories of when you are older. I just had to do it. Let go.
I will certainly become more brave as these days go by and as this becomes our new normal. But I will not stop worrying. A mommy, especially your mommy, never stops worrying. I worry about the bullies, the germs, the pressure of learning, the strangers, the playground accidents, and everything in between.
But you? You're so brave. And smart. And happy. And easy.
Everyone at your new school is just going to love you. They are going to love how unique you are. They will love your Spider-Man backpack and your Transformer lunch box. They will love your sensitivity and your appreciation. They will love your sense of humor and your wittiness. They will love your generosity and your cautiousness. They will comment on your hair, which will annoy you, but you will be gracious and say "thanks". They will love that you will want to play Ninja Turtles and not princesses. They will just love all of you because you, you're special and I'm so proud to call you mine.
Shine bright like a diamond, love. Enjoy the journey.
Love,
Mama
Because mind dumping is necessary.
So. I'm back with another blog. This is my 4th.
Remember this one? About how great my family life was?
And this one, about my reality of motherhood?
My third was private because it was a little...grim, when life became, well, grim.
And here it is, my fourth. My family life became not so great and motherhood actually became so much sweeter, so it was time for a new book. Screw chapters. This girl is all about books.
If you're looking for puppies, rainbows, and gushings about blessings, please stop reading now. I just don't write that way. There will be plenty of positives to read here but also expect the dark sides of life, the ones people are afraid to talk about for fear of judgement or stigma. I write because I need to mind dump. It's my therapy and my outlet. I don't care who is reading.
A combination of good and bad, happy and sad, beautiful and ugly. Tales from behind closed doors of a {newly} single mom with a redhead and a German Shepherd.
Oh, and I wear yoga pants because I do yoga. A lot of yoga.
Welcome. Namaste, bitches.
Remember this one? About how great my family life was?
And this one, about my reality of motherhood?
My third was private because it was a little...grim, when life became, well, grim.
And here it is, my fourth. My family life became not so great and motherhood actually became so much sweeter, so it was time for a new book. Screw chapters. This girl is all about books.
If you're looking for puppies, rainbows, and gushings about blessings, please stop reading now. I just don't write that way. There will be plenty of positives to read here but also expect the dark sides of life, the ones people are afraid to talk about for fear of judgement or stigma. I write because I need to mind dump. It's my therapy and my outlet. I don't care who is reading.
A combination of good and bad, happy and sad, beautiful and ugly. Tales from behind closed doors of a {newly} single mom with a redhead and a German Shepherd.
Oh, and I wear yoga pants because I do yoga. A lot of yoga.
Welcome. Namaste, bitches.
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