girl at large

I like to write about life when you have a job, some kids, a fixer upper and a fatal disease.

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  • Fuck Whales, Save Context

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    This topic of this article is really important. I’m only beginning to understand.

    https://www.vox.com/2018/8/3/17644704/sarah-jeong-new-york-times-tweets-backlash-racism

    Fuck whales, save context. This article and others I’ve read related to the story (with a variety of views) of Sarah Jeong and others makes me hope that I learn fast enough how to educate my kids on context, internet literacy, consent, research, and critical thinking. Also, art critique skills could be useful, it’s the same questions: Who is the audience? What is the intent? How successfully was it executed? How else could it be interpreted? 

    The internet is scary. It’s also amazing. It’s all the things, and it’s embedded in my life.

    I’ve been blogging since 2002 and posting photos of my babies and life on Facebook since 2009. Two things have given me pause lately. One, I sent a link of an old 2012 blog post to a friend and I noticed that in the post before it I had used the word “ghetto” in the title. That made me cringe. I was tempted even to change or delete it. But I didn’t; a reminder that language and understanding changes, that I learn and grow is a good thing.

    Second, I was recently enjoying a fluff story trail of “Where Are They Now?” about memes and I noticed a majority of the images were of young people or children who are now—zip—adults. First, wow that was fast, kids grow up in seconds. And second, crap, what would Viv think at age 13 of some of the photos and captions out there of her at age three? Do I have a right to do that? Does she have a right to privacy before junior high?

    Oh god, she’s going to have to go to junior high. Delete delete delete

  • Roll With It

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    We ran out of toilet paper. Like out out. No Kleenex, nothing hidden in the back of the cupboard, even a search of Paulie's car for the emergency travel roll came up empty. Paulie stashed a few paper towels nearby and we got on with our morning mayhem routine, noting “tp” on the never ending to-do list. 

    A few minutes later, I noticed this. Viv had rolled the paper towels around the holder. Folded in half, then rolled. Thank you, Viv, for the civility.

  • The Sun Shines On Us All

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    At the beach this evening, resting my sore feet in the cool sand, I could see this scene to my right and to my left. Families, friends, kids, grandparents, daters and skaters and aunties and babies. On the walk down the bluff, I heard three languages. I spotted interracial couples and families, more than one hijab, differently abled folks, seniors, lgbtq folks, and even a lone hold out cigarette smoker. Clumps of families in every conceivable configuration dotted the beach. Hand holders, shouters and strollers shared the boardwalk. 

    When the world seems upside down, when the newsfeed is unbearable, when the political divisions feel like looming civil war, remind me to go to the beach. To the beach where everyone is bonded,  where the array of humanity is beautifully broad, where everyone is there to capture the same thing—good selfie light.

  • A Seat At The Table

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    Each article, each radio interview, every profile featuring women running for office, women winning elections, women leading boards, and women leadership in general right now is stoking my rage. Why? Because the popular angle is “women are good for business”, “women do things differently so they are better” and all that lean in crap. Even if the studies aren’t flawed, even if the premise isn’t condescending, why the fuck should it matter?

    Why do we need to prove our worth? Our capabilities? Our profitability? Why must we apologize for taking our seat at the table? Why do I need to convince you that my female presence is not only harmless, but beneficial to you? What if it isn’t beneficial? What if women are just as fallible and human as men? What if we get greedy, can be corrupt, can be inept, can be wrong; do we then get expelled?

    Women are half the population, women are human beings, women are engines of the economy, makers of humans. WOMEN EXIST. That is reason enough to demand representation at every level in the government that rules us, the institutions that affect us and the corporations that profit from our labor.

    Period. Ditto everyone that isn’t a straight white man. 

  • First Burning Bras, Now This

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    “Nice Hawaiian shirt Mom”

    “Thanks, I wore it so if we’re on the news, you know, I can stand out and spot myself”.

    Um, kinda not the point of being here at this march for immigrant families Mom, but ok. I thought that was the end of the topic when Paulie, beloved but daring son-in-law, chimed in:

    “An old lady in a flowered shirt at a protest, yeah, that’ll really stand out!”

  • Brunch Market

    Paulie and Viv are at the races all day, I already have two loads of laundry done and the sun is shining. Time to go to the farmers market, just Charlie and me. Or, because he has a boppie and is totally ignorable four feet ahead of me in the double stroller, mentally just me. Ahhh.

    The Shorewood Farmers Market is packed. Packed with strollers, coffee drinkers, shoppers, a band. A band? A full honest god electric set up band. And there's the Shasta trailer selling waffles, the other trailer selling egg breakfasts, and new this year a vintage Ford truck retrofitted with taps to serve small batch brews. It is, of course, clad with horizontal reclaimed wood boards. A Tommy Haverford lookalike inspects the boulangerie's mobile wood fired oven, at least four booths have locally roasted coffee. Is someone roasting beans right here? There's Kambucha, empanadas, gluten-free ready to bake dough…it's endless, and not much of it is produce. There are more vehicles than veggie vendors, you wouldn't be crazy for thinking it's a food truck lot. If I didn't have the experience to know where to find the egg lady, and that a cartoon of her fresh brown eggs was worth elbowing through all that overpriced spandex for, I would have turned around.

    Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy this outing, especially the chocolate croissants. But let's call this what it really is: Portland 2005.

     

  • Perspective

    Time in the car with my girls, Mom and Viv, is my favorite. I certainly miss the days of road tripping alone, the window rolled down, sun on the windshield, rolling through the green summer countryside blasting NPR. But I have embraced my passengers. I always learn something.

    Driving back from Patsy and Charlie's lovely family wedding in Door County–

    Me: "It was so great to meet that woman whose sister babysat me back in Columbia, that's amazing that they remember! Awww, they said to say hi to Pumpkin, I always loved that I'm your Pumpkin mom." (Warm fuzzy memory of little kid me being held close to my mom, her calling me Pumpkin when I needed a cuddle)

    "God, were you orange."

    What?

    What?

    "Wait, wasn't I called Pumpkin because I was cute, it wasn't a cutesie loving nickname like honey bunny? Wait, WHY was I called Pumpkin?"

    "You had jaundice! You were orange as a pumpkin!"

  • Cleverer and Cleverer

    Settling in to our room: "The hotel TV might not cooperate, and your iPad is fragile, so I'll watch cartoons on your phone."

    Cooperate.

     

  • And That’s How

    As Charlie says, suited up and strapped in, let's "rocknroll!"

    Paulie likes to have all the things, ALL the things for any activity. Going for a walk might turn into a picnic so of course an umbrella and a bag of sandwhiches is standard. Going anywhere at all, indoors or out, requires a huge fleece blanket because you never know when you're going to get cold, sleepy or just need comfort.

    A weekend away with the kids requires an enormous amount of stuff, which we bring in the larger car we bought for the purpose of bringing stuff, and yet here we are Sunday morning with Charlie in the last diaper. Which is a swim diaper. From last year. Paulie, where is your duct tape?

    Vivi is taller this spring, and as always, a helper. I assigned her to do "the sweep" this morning as we packed up. "Did you check every closet, room and drawer?" "Yes". "Did you get everything, nothing left behind?"

    "Yep, all I found was that book" (and now somewhere in my car of stuff is Gideon's bible)

     

  • Parenting Peak

    It's been a spring of late snowstorms and lingering cold. Only this morning, already the first of May, does the air finally feel promising. And yet there are still patches of snow in our concrete yard. And also a large patch of standing water that Viv says looks like a dinosaur. (The mudjacking company says it looks like about a grand)

    Recently one day at school, a classmate's parent forgot to bring snowpants.

    Vivi said to her: "Isn't it your job to pack your own snow pants?"

    My work here is done, peace out. -Mama.