Here is an almost frighteningly bare look inside my brain

and it wasn’t even posted by me. How odd to read words that I have said only to myself and maybe to Huz written here so perfectly by someone else. How very comforting, too. She has given it clarity that I have been unable to achieve. Finding the post was like a Christmas present.

Here was me last Christmas, newly postpartum:

Here was me with the Beavs this Christmas

No, it was not due to heavy pharmaceuticals, just time. I actually did spend time with the Beavers last Christmas, too, but I was in a fog. This year was exponentially better. Don’t our cook-ays rock? We also made Christmas unicorns, rhinos and our newly traditional sparkly poos (leftover gingerbread that we are too tipsy on Glogg to cut out properly).

Happy Holidays, peeps! Peace on Earth, goodwill to Women (and the fellas we love, too)!

I love this

and meant to link to it ages ago. Hoyden About Town rocks.

So I got rid of my biggest hit-producing post

where I go on way too long about how all the moms I know are milfs, because dammit, they are cool fucking broads even if I can’t quite get along with every single one of them (crafty mamas). Still, those searching for some “milf action” are finding their way to me. Damn google caching and my tendency for cheeky self-referencing (D’oh! There I went again)!

It’s okay, though, I’ll play. I actually do have your MILFs in action still happening in this blog. I’ve got milfs marching on Washington!

Wait, don’t click away! You’re somebody’s son, maybe somebody’s brother, or husband, or boyfriend, or lover. We need you. You can look up porn later. I’m not condemning you. I’m just asking that you take a few minutes to find a way to honor women, all women. Whether you love, resent, lust after or just want to steal underwear from them, please take a few minutes to sign a petition or find a way to tell them you support them as important individuals who breathe life into this fucked up world we are all spinning on together.

Then go look at porn all you want. Keep it kind, though, babycakes. I don’t want to wreck your boner but remember that the woman you are hoping to find is somebody’s daughter, and she deserves more care and respect than she is likely getting as internet eye candy. Just a thought.

Carry on.

Me me me, I I I, my my my

This blogging thing is mightily self indulgent. At least, my blog is. I’m not exactly trying to save the world here, but still, it is an odd feeling to look back over so many posts and see so much ME. When did this blogging thing become such a part of my life? Must be thanks to you nutty broads (and errant fellas) spurring me on with your own writing. I’m enjoying the hell out of you all, I really am.

I’ll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours (Bob said that).

Behind every great man there is a great woman…

1. and behind every great woman, there is feminism. Whether you embrace it or not, whether you call yourself a feminist or say nopenopenope not me, it is there for you, and it is making the world a safer, better place for us all. That is not rhetoric. That is fact.

Ahem. Meme me me meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Testing, testing…is this thing on? That was just a little warm-up for the meme I am honored to add my homebrewed wisdom to. I’ve cooked some up in my kitchen just for you, because that is what I hear we “sahms” (choking! choking on that label!) do, we obsess and we cook and we clean and we feed people way too much. Eat something, sweetheart, you look famished.

So, Momomax, I will see your meme and raise you five. That first paragraph counts as one, so here we go loopty-loo…

2. Am I not a feminist? (warning: long rant ahead)

I am married to a man. I proposed to him first and was not taken seriously despite his answer of yes. My engagement gift to him was a book. He thought the whole thing was cute. Even after this insult, I accepted his traditional proposal later on. I also accepted a (canadian) diamond engagement ring that he had made for me based on a trinket we saw in a shop when we were younger. I wore a corseted top and a ball skirt along with red high heels (indeed, I looked fabulous). Now, it was a civil ceremony rather than a religious one, it was conducted by a woman, I was not “given away” and I certainly did not vow to honor and obey BUT my marriage band is fused to the one that my grandmother wore for her wedding, where she undoubtedly did all of the expected patriarchal/traditional things. I am still very proud to have merged my ceremony to hers in this way. Male proposal, diamond ring, big dress, check, check check. So am I not a feminist? Can one only be a Buddhist or Christian by becoming a nun?

I love women. Had I fallen in love with a woman instead of Huz, I would likely be married to her right now, whether it was recognized legally or not…When I go out, I try to look attractive to both women and men. I wear push-up bras because they make my breasts look like a feast. Some days, the right shade of lip gloss or well-applied liquid eyeliner can bring me out of a bad mood. Fishnet stockings with a seam up the back can stop my heart. Add a well-made heel and I am yours. That being said, the sexiest women I have ever known were butch…I like to wear aprons. I think they are cute, convenient, and they make me feel officially artistic. Dresses and skirts are my first choice in clothing, especially if they have pockets…I was a stripper for 2.5 months while in college. I wore pasties and shook my groove thing for $10 a look. It was demeaning, empowering, but most importantly expedient for paying off an emergency hospitalization debt. I’m not sorry…I embrace the labels milf, bitch, cunt, hooker and trick. Used with good comic timing, they crack me up. Used maliciously, they inspire me to act…I earned not one but two degrees so I could work with children, a highly traditional choice of study for a woman by anyone’s standards. I plan to go back to school in the future to earn yet another degree so that I may work with even more children…I am currently not working while I care for my son. My husband is the primary earner during this phase of our lives…I feel more relaxed when my kitchen is clean. I also feel that scrubbing toilets is just something that needs to be done by grown-ups, like laundry, vacuuming and feeding the dog. Sometimes I do it all, sometimes Huz does. I do not see it as a political issue as much a personality issue. All people living with other people will have unfair divisions of labor at times. I have bigger things to worry about…One of my favorite museum installations evah was about the home economics program at Penn State in the early 1900s. Others include a display of American quilts and Jackie Kennedy’s wardrobe. My favorites are certainly not limited to these overtly feminine displays, but still, they are standouts…I do not fault any woman who makes choices that are different than mine. I hold her accountable only to herself, and not for the indirect effect her choices may have on me or the advancement of womankind. Sometimes I am tired, too. Sometimes I do not know what to do, either, so I do what has always been done…what does that make me?

What does any of this make me? It makes me ME. And I. Am. A. Feminist. Beyond that declaration, and my personal affirmation of it through my daily choices, do I need to justify it by performing certain prescribed feminist acts that are determined by others? If so, then perhaps that is why some women shy away from identifying themselves as feminists. The world already tells them that they are inferior. They don’t need any more voices added to the chorus. Besides, I am not worried for them. They don’t need to march or blog or circulate petitions or climb the corporate ladder or otherwise stick it to the man for me to respect them and call them my sisters in arms.

Da-yum! Onward…

3. They say that every time a baby is born, a mother is born, too. I say, so is a feminist. You cannot help but become one when you nuture a life outside of yourself, especially (I imagine) if you give birth to/adopt a girl.

4. Speaking of birthing/adopting, wtf is up with the multitude of labels for moms? Are we trying to explain ourselves further, because the label of mother isn’t enough? For example, you all know I am struggling with sahm beause it wasn’t my intention to not be working from home right now. Why do I struggle so much with this (other than the fact that it sounds like a directive, or a house arrest sentence: “stay at home, mom!”)? Why do I feel fine being labeled a wahm? Aren’t all moms wahms? And wtf is up with the alternative to “sahm”, where some chicks call themselves “full-time mothers”? Is there any other kind? If I accept a job outside our home, does that mean I am only partly Bean’s mom? I call bullshit.

5. Keeping this last one (kinda) short because the rest are sooooo looong but I want to give lurve to my wommins whom have not yet birthed/adopted a babe or plain old don’t want to. You are vital to the dialogue of feminist motherhood. Don’t discount it because you’re not “in” it. You are somebody’s daughter. We need you.

Ta-dah! There you have it, my first meme contribution. I am not going to tag anyone specific to add their 5, because oy, the pressure! but I would like to invite you, yes YOU, to add 5 things about feminism from your unique pov at this time in your life. I am truly looking forward to it so please direct me there when you are done.

Spank you, spank you very much

Fah real doh, thanks, momomax.

Okay, my turn.

If I had a record label, I would sign momomax and all these broads as songwriters:

blue milk

Chaos is Normal

Self Made Mom

subarctic mama

The Road Less Traveled

walking through doors

We’d kick out the jams.

(You are now invited to copy and paste Rosie the Rockin’ Blogger into your blog, just because I like you and I said so. Cool, huh?)

Tell me why I visit gossip sites

I am down to one, or wait, two. I like that fella at Pink is the New Blog, he is not too vicious. He sometimes walks a fine line between racism and critique (how many times will he call certain celebs ”pasty” before someone tells him that some people are just born that way?) but he objectifies da mins almost as often as da wommins, so I tell myself that he is an equal opportunity exploiter. Besides, he writes so sweetly about his personal relationships and the people he meets, so it is just like reading a regular, non-gossip blog at times. Besides that, he was a teacher! How can I not support the online venture of a teacher?

Mwuah ha ha! These things I tell myself to justify my addiction.

I have successfully given up the revolting and misogynistic Perez Hilton, so that was a step in the right direction.  The guy does update his page at a fetching rate but he is so very nasty about female celebs that I just cannot abide by him any longer. I’m ashamed to say that I got my sister hooked on him, though. I felt like I was handing her a crack pipe when I brought his page up for her a few months ago, but I did it anyway. 

Perez, I renounce you, I renounce you, I renounce you!

So yeah, I am down to tmz (one of the most awful, I know! ) and Pink. I will feel better about myself if I just read Pink. Baby steps.

Why can’t I stop “checking in” on these sites? Is it just a bad habit picked up when I was procrastinating (I mean, um, “sharpening the saw”) at work? Do I subconsciously revel in the trainwrecked lives of celebrities because it makes me feel more secure in my own decisions? Is it one of those fascination of the abomination things? Is it simply an innocent form of escapism?

I am not so sure about the latter. I know that by supporting these sites with clicks, I am helping to spur the paparazzi on, who in turn hunt down celebs in ever-dangerous and illegal ways (aren’t there laws against their stalking and harassment tactics?) that cause the often already-unstable celebs to act like total loons on camera. It’s a degrading cycle.

So tell me why I do it! This person says that gossip sites are the new online pornography. I did manage to not view the virginia o’keefes of an alarming number of celebrities that were all over the gossip sites a few months back (talk about harassment, I mean, upskirt photos? wtf?), so I do not think of what I look at as actual pornography, but I do think she’s got a point. 

It’s all so negative and I feel like a shit for contributing to it with my time and attention. I am sure there are studies out there, or some such thing, that can tell me why I feel the need to know about these celebrity people, and give me highly compelling reasons to stop. Obviously, my conscience isn’t doing it’s job well enough, so I am seeking an intervention. 

If I were a psych grad student I would be all over this issue of celeb gossip as a worldwide obsession. Senior thesis, anyone? Tell me when you’re finished, I would loooove to read it.

Yeah so I’ve got like 10 posts started

and I have no immediate plans to finish a single one. I don’t think I can. I am ridiculously happy these days.

Don’t get me wrong, I was happy enough before, but now that the non-stop rocking/pacing/shushing/painfulbreastfeeding/thriceadaypumping/ nosleep/can’tgoanywherewithoutscreaming days seem to be past us (ack! can I write that out loud like that or did I just totally jinx myself?) I am in a whole other realm here, people. I do have my peeps in my interweb motherhood tribe to thank for a whole lot of the peace that has settled over me, too, so thank you, peeps! Mwuah! I truly am feeling rather f’ing jazzed. Bean is simply the coolest thing I have ever seen and we are having the best time. Well, at least I am.  He seems pretty f’ing jazzed though, too, if I can take the liberty of speaking for him.

Winter is long gone and he is finally over his stroller-related discontent, so if you spot a ridiculously happy woman walking around in downtown Chicago with one of the cutest babies you have ever seen in your life (humor me) and a huge grin on her face, give a wave. That’s me.

Love,

B.

P.S. I’ll be back.

I, love, commas,

andIalsowritetoofast. So I wonder, when I publish what I intend to be my “final” post, and then go back and fix the quirks that I never notice until AFTER doing so, does that make the people who read my feed crazy? Does it repost an old post as a new post or an update if I fix my errors and re-publish? If so, I am genuinely sorry. I love you.