13

At brunch on Sunday morning, my sister-in-law was describing a conversation she heard her (smart, bug-loving, kind, funny) daughter have with 3 of her friends. They are all 13 and entering 8th grade. The girls were talking about boys and then which girls in their class were "whorish."

Excuse me?

She said this with non-chalance as though she were describing the girls talking about a school dance or Halloween costumes. She sort of laughed at it, and I got a pit in my gut. My niece was not in the room at the time, but I could not just sit there and nod. I noted that I was saddened and disturbed that 13 year old girls are calling each other whores.

My sister in law said that this particular girl had already had sex. So effing what? Now, of course no one thinks 13-year-olds should be having sex, and this is disturbing in its own right, but that does not excuse being labelled a whore.

I suddenly felt myself get so upset by this that I was shaking and I could feel my face go red and hot. When I spoke up, I didn't even realize how upset this actually made me.

Name calling is terrible. Name calling that attacks a person's sexuality and sexual choices is some of the most vicious and damaging name calling. Girls can be awful. They can also be wonderful. I firmly believe and always have that women and girls need to be on the same team. There will be enough forces in the world that attempt to shame us, marginalize us, and make us feel less than worthy. We cannot contribute to that. And we have to teach younger girls why words like whore and slut should not be part of their vocabulary.

Now, of course, adults can't stop what 13 year old girls say when we aren't around. But this was a sort of unique opportunity where the girls were at a hotel sleep over and having this conversation while they knew an adult was in the room. It was a missed chance to bring up the issue of treating other girls and women with respect and compassion.

My sister in law just didn't get why it was such a big deal. Sigh. I realize that parenting isn't easy and that sometimes things come up so quickly, it's hard to know how to react. But, at least to me, there is no gray area here. My reaction was so visceral. I don't know if I'll ever have a daughter, but I will do all I can to impart these values to my son. He will always know where we stand on referring to women as whores.

Since this happened, this old Dar Williams song has been running through my head. "As cool as I am, I thought you'd know this already. I will not be afraid of women." Might be time to bring my niece to a folk concert or at least sit down over coffee.

Gluten Minimus

I have fairly strong feelings about food allergies. I hate them and think they are mostly fake. Yes yes, I know some people will die if I say "peanut" in their presence, but mostly it's a farce.

In early August my mom and I decided to kick start a plan to lose some weight by doing the South Beach diet. It meant cutting out alcohol and all carbohydrates for 2 weeks. I almost immediately stopped getting heartburn. At first I thought maybe it was the alcohol. This was distressing. But then I reintroduced red wine and the heartburn did not return. So I started testing myself, and it's become clear that if I eat bread or drink beer, I get heartburn.

Gluten is the culprit.

What now? It's not an allergy. I mean, sometimes there is going to be pizza. Or artichoke dip and the only thing for dipping will be french bread. Maybe it's best described as gluten sensitivity. I'm trying to avoid it as it's nice to not have heartburn and it's also helpful in the weight loss plan. 12 pounds so far. Not too shabby.

The best news of course is that it was bread and not wine that was giving me trouble. And now that I'm not really eating bread, there's more time to drink wine. Salud!

A few weeks ago

...someone I know moderately well, but is by no means on the inside of my life, made some very hurtful comments about how I parent Johan, the life we have, and about Johan in general. I have always kind of thought that I only get offended by comments if there is some truth to them.

For example, I can be passive aggressive sometimes. So if I were to get called out on that, I would probably take offense. And I can be mercurial. I am sensitive when that is pointed out to me.

But this stuff? Of course I am not a perfect mom. And Johan is not a perfect kid. Our family is not perfect either. But we are pretty solid. Johan is a bright, vibrant, spirited, kind kid. He can also be mercurial. He comes by that honestly. But I try hard to make sure he is not spoiled or coddled. I try to teach him to be polite and respectful and to treat others the way he would like to be treated. He does a good job with these things a lot of the time. But he's also three. And if he's overtired or overexcited, sometimes he whines or acts out. He's not allowed to "get away" with that kind of behavior and I discipline him for it, although not in front of other people. I usually take him out of the room and discuss inappropriate behavior privately with him. Public humiliation and shame are not part of my discipline routine.

I've thought a lot about the comments this person made. I've wondered if I'm sensitive about it because I worry she's right. I've thought, maybe she thinks I'm not disciplining him since I don't do it in front of her. I've now settled into some comforting conclusions. 1) She's wrong. 2) She doesn't know Johan, me, or our life. 3) It's none of her business. 4) Her opinion of our life affects us in no way whatsoever. And 5) I've been angry not because her comments are true, but because I am not used to be people being bluntly unkind.

When I think about the good people in Johan's and my life, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and fortune. Our universe of family and friends, both blood-related and not, are not just folks who pat us on the back and say "good job." They challenge us to be the best we can. They call me out when I've got a head full of crazy. They do so, however, in supportive ways. They are not mean.

I'm not really sure of the thesis of this, but I can tell you that I no longer think that I am only sensitive to criticism I fear is true. Sometimes cruel words, even if entirely untrue, can seep in and get to you. Their sting is hard to forget.

But, I get daily reminders from Johan that he is a wonderful kid with a mom who, while imperfect, is doing the best she can. When he offers to share his treat with a littler kid and then "read" her a story; when he wants to help clear the table; when he cuddles up to me in the early morning when I'm still half-asleep and kisses my cheeks, I know that we are doing just fine.