I recently finished reading The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd. Sue Monk Kidd, also the author of The Secret Life of Bees, attempts to discuss racial tensions and slavery during the eighteenth century, as well as, female rights. Both topics, in light of our current presidential election and the #BLM movement, are relevant and I couldn't help but be in awe at my fortune for finding yet another avenue of thought regarding these subjects. It seems that nowadays we, Americans, are entrenched in controversy. It is not foreign terrorists threatening our safety, even though the incident linked to ISIS in Florida where many Americans were shot to death happened less than a year ago; No, it is division within that is shredding our faith and debilitating our peace on a daily basis.
Cops are afraid to go to work and give any perpetrator the benefit of the doubt because cops throughout our nation are being shot to death and sought out as enemies.
We have two candidates for presidency that are mired in controversy upon controversy. Conveniently, or ironically, Donald faces charges for misbehavior against women while Hillary relishes in her position as the first potential female president. Meanwhile, Hillary's "strength" is that she has experience. Unfortunately, all that experience has taught her is that she should have a same-sex intern to protect her marriage, "C" means confidential, she will not be excused for accidentally deleting anymore emails, and very few men and women in the military believe she has their best interest in mind.
Finally, even though racial equality has supposedly been established in our country, there are those who still believe overt racism exists. I cannot say they are wrong. My experience is yes, racism exists. The same way that sexism exists. We could never account for why this is. ask almost any man and I am sure in his heart of hearts, he loves a woman. Whether it is his mom, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, his wife, etc, that relationship would lead him to conclude that sexism does not exist, NOT IN AMERICA! However, those who feel as I do might smirk knowingly, we would judge him to be a good man, but misguided, Let's be clear, there was a black president before there has been a female. Black males were given the vote, before women. If we look at our nation's history, the color of one's skin was not all that led to discrimination and the effects of that subjugation go deep. Little girls still know the inequality that exists, but the climate for change, for improvement has never been better.
It is the interweaving of the final two issues, female rights and Black Lives Matter, that the Grimke sisters battle in The Invention of Wings and it is what captures my imagination, as well as my heart.
Some may believe that the argument for black people being mistreated is separate from that of women, but I cannot abide that opinion. The representation of both groups has been unfortunate in the American media. We watch "Desperate Housewives" and the PlayBoy Bunnies in their mansion, picking orders of wives and selecting future "models." It is despicable and misrepresentative of what I want females to be known as. I can only believe that those who want unity for our country find the same negative representation of black people as irritating as I do. I believe it is that unjust representation that links us even more than before, not as blacks or whites, or even males and females, but as one misunderstood citizen to another, living in a country where anything CAN happen. We just need to come together and figure out the best way together. I hope we can all put our grievances behind us and press on, acknowledging that some changes have been made, and that not all representations of us or them are true. I'd say it is well past time to make those changes, and to make America great again.*
*That is not an endorsement for Trump.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Saturday, May 14, 2016
That Moment When...
That moment when everything changes, but everything else has stayed the same.
When your world has stopped spinning, but you are the only one who has noticed.
That moment when dinner was left on, but you got called away and nobody else bothered to put it away.
That moment when reality faces the harshness of lies and deceit and evilness all bottled into one small person's attempt to make their own pain and indecentness go away.
It is the moment we all come subject to, at one time or another, in the realities of our lives.
I have never thrown a glass against a wall to watch it shatter, to see the ice melt in a puddle of regret and drained fury. But, I have seen a wilted flower once the sun stops shining on it and the water dries up and the mold begins to fester on the once green stem.
It is more than just forgetfulness, it is about not moving on and about being stuck in that one moment of isolation, of drama-like stillness when everything else becomes unavoidably obvious.
It is in that one moment when clarity might strike.
It hits you all of a sudden, when for no other reason, everything else becomes clear.
All the choices you could have made leading up to that one moment. All the decisions you have processed, and now must deal with correcting.
It is like that for all of us, the process of undoing.
We need to learn how to start over again, once the moment is over and out of us.
No one is above it, or too far from learning, but it is what you do with that moment that defines you, for you, forever.
I have never thrown a glass against the wall to watch it shatter just to see what it would do. But I have seen the ice melt in a puddle of regret and drained fury, and thought of how much nicer it would've been to be drinking my cold, refreshing drink.
In moments of regret, we might make a decision we wish we could change, but it is what you do with those moments in time, the ones we will never get returned to us, it is what you do with the aftermath of the mourning, that defines you.
What will you do with the morning's moment that is calling you out of hibernation? Calling you out of the colossal mistake that you have made? You already gave that grave error control for one moment, isn't that one moment all you want it to take? Reclaim who you are, and give yourself some grace to change from moment to moment. The next moment does not have to be the same as your last.
When your world has stopped spinning, but you are the only one who has noticed.
That moment when dinner was left on, but you got called away and nobody else bothered to put it away.
That moment when reality faces the harshness of lies and deceit and evilness all bottled into one small person's attempt to make their own pain and indecentness go away.
It is the moment we all come subject to, at one time or another, in the realities of our lives.
I have never thrown a glass against a wall to watch it shatter, to see the ice melt in a puddle of regret and drained fury. But, I have seen a wilted flower once the sun stops shining on it and the water dries up and the mold begins to fester on the once green stem.
It is more than just forgetfulness, it is about not moving on and about being stuck in that one moment of isolation, of drama-like stillness when everything else becomes unavoidably obvious.
It is in that one moment when clarity might strike.
It hits you all of a sudden, when for no other reason, everything else becomes clear.
All the choices you could have made leading up to that one moment. All the decisions you have processed, and now must deal with correcting.
It is like that for all of us, the process of undoing.
We need to learn how to start over again, once the moment is over and out of us.
No one is above it, or too far from learning, but it is what you do with that moment that defines you, for you, forever.
I have never thrown a glass against the wall to watch it shatter just to see what it would do. But I have seen the ice melt in a puddle of regret and drained fury, and thought of how much nicer it would've been to be drinking my cold, refreshing drink.
In moments of regret, we might make a decision we wish we could change, but it is what you do with those moments in time, the ones we will never get returned to us, it is what you do with the aftermath of the mourning, that defines you.
What will you do with the morning's moment that is calling you out of hibernation? Calling you out of the colossal mistake that you have made? You already gave that grave error control for one moment, isn't that one moment all you want it to take? Reclaim who you are, and give yourself some grace to change from moment to moment. The next moment does not have to be the same as your last.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
5 Disgusting Things I Do Every Day (As A Mom)
1. I may take every precaution to wash my hands before I eat, after I use the restroom, sneeze, etc. but when my kid has something sticky on his face/hands and a sink is unrealistic, I can guarantee one thing. I'm. About. To. Lick. My fingers and get that mess off. Even if it means repeatedly licking my fingers and involuntarily getting that icky, gooey substance in my mouth.
2. I smell, smell-check, look, feel--- for poop. Typically, this applies to diapers, but it has been known to happen under beds, in the bath, and anywhere else I get the mom-sense tingles going off. It happens.
That's not all. When a search turns out successful(?), I get to wipe that poop up! Now, this is usually completed while attempting to use as few wipies as possible. Yes, occasionally fingers become victims to cross-firing. Thank God for soap and water. And oh, the joy of potty training. Sometimes those poopies get stuck in the pint-sized toilet, so I get to not only shake it in the toilet, but then rinse and wipe that seat out for next time! Yay!
3. I eat left over food. Yes, I realize many people eat left-overs. Hello! The doggy bag!? (I also know no one calls them doggy bags anymore). But, I'm not talking about run of the mill left-overs. I'm talking, my toddler wanted a bagel but wouldn't eat the edge so I'm eating the edges of half-bitten pieces that are already cold from sitting on his tray while he ate and I fed his brother. Or, I just made you a whole bowl of oatmeal, and although I put a piece of ice in yours and you took one or two bites with a slobbery spoon, you now claim to be full. And I am in a hurry. So, give me your bowl. Those types of left-overs. Sometimes a little better, and sometimes worse...
4. I smell things to see what my next step should be. Example One: My sons were home with Daddy yesterday while mommy worked, so he did bath time. Now, I am home today and again, bath time. My sons wash their hair every other day. By the third day, their hair smells like a mixture of drool from the night before, whatever we had for breakfast that morning, and whatever was for dinner the night before. Since my son is unreliable in this department (his answer is almost invariably Yes! Dad washed his hair. Why? Because he prefers if it never gets washed), I must do the smell test.. It is a rare treat when I do not pull my nose away repelled. It is most often my turn to wash their hair.
Example Two: Smelling the milk to see if it has gone sour. Who doesn't do this risky game? The chances are 50-50 you won't be able to eat the rest of the day...
5. I brush my son's teeth. That's average, you may be thinking. Except, I haven't quite got this one figured out. See, he usually "brushes" his own teeth, but when it comes to the tongue, the germ hub for the entire population, I have to do the scrapping myself. I obviously cannot see his tongue if he points away from me. So? So, you guessed it. I look him square in the face as I brush his tongue for stinky, icky germs. That inevitably spray me in the face. Great.
In the spirit of Mother's Day, enjoy all those yucky habits. Mothering isn't for the weak (stomachs). ♡♡♡
2. I smell, smell-check, look, feel--- for poop. Typically, this applies to diapers, but it has been known to happen under beds, in the bath, and anywhere else I get the mom-sense tingles going off. It happens.
That's not all. When a search turns out successful(?), I get to wipe that poop up! Now, this is usually completed while attempting to use as few wipies as possible. Yes, occasionally fingers become victims to cross-firing. Thank God for soap and water. And oh, the joy of potty training. Sometimes those poopies get stuck in the pint-sized toilet, so I get to not only shake it in the toilet, but then rinse and wipe that seat out for next time! Yay!
3. I eat left over food. Yes, I realize many people eat left-overs. Hello! The doggy bag!? (I also know no one calls them doggy bags anymore). But, I'm not talking about run of the mill left-overs. I'm talking, my toddler wanted a bagel but wouldn't eat the edge so I'm eating the edges of half-bitten pieces that are already cold from sitting on his tray while he ate and I fed his brother. Or, I just made you a whole bowl of oatmeal, and although I put a piece of ice in yours and you took one or two bites with a slobbery spoon, you now claim to be full. And I am in a hurry. So, give me your bowl. Those types of left-overs. Sometimes a little better, and sometimes worse...
4. I smell things to see what my next step should be. Example One: My sons were home with Daddy yesterday while mommy worked, so he did bath time. Now, I am home today and again, bath time. My sons wash their hair every other day. By the third day, their hair smells like a mixture of drool from the night before, whatever we had for breakfast that morning, and whatever was for dinner the night before. Since my son is unreliable in this department (his answer is almost invariably Yes! Dad washed his hair. Why? Because he prefers if it never gets washed), I must do the smell test.. It is a rare treat when I do not pull my nose away repelled. It is most often my turn to wash their hair.
Example Two: Smelling the milk to see if it has gone sour. Who doesn't do this risky game? The chances are 50-50 you won't be able to eat the rest of the day...
5. I brush my son's teeth. That's average, you may be thinking. Except, I haven't quite got this one figured out. See, he usually "brushes" his own teeth, but when it comes to the tongue, the germ hub for the entire population, I have to do the scrapping myself. I obviously cannot see his tongue if he points away from me. So? So, you guessed it. I look him square in the face as I brush his tongue for stinky, icky germs. That inevitably spray me in the face. Great.
In the spirit of Mother's Day, enjoy all those yucky habits. Mothering isn't for the weak (stomachs). ♡♡♡
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Blaise Pascal
"The last thing one knows when writing a book is what to put first"
-Blaise Pascal
How true is this in my own life? How many times have I sat to start an essay, a novel, a blog, and just told myself, "Write!" Starting somewhere was the most important step because otherwise, I could think myself to death trying to find the perfect beginning. And yet, that beginning, those words, would catapult me into the rest of the novel. I could talk myself out of every placement of noun and apostrophe, just to keep myself back from beginning, at any point.
Is this true of life? My life or yours? Do we stop ourselves from ever developing an idea because our entrance into the water does not live up to the ending result of swimming?
There is no fear in not knowing where to begin. It is not a fear that holds us back from moving forward, from initiating, but a lack of confidence in knowing where to begin. I am not scared to write my book. I sit at my desk with trepidation perhaps, but those feelings of joy and anticipation are present on almost any wedding night. No, not fear, but what then?
A knowledge that we will not put the right word down first is certainly a nagging conception. A nagging conception that sometimes turns into unfortunate defeat. I...can...not...keep...going...with...this...doubt...inside.
So...
How to conquer whatever it is this is?
Fear, I can handle. I will not be afraid. I cam handle what comes.
Ah, but this is not a mugging I will walk away triumphantly from.
This is an adventure I am embarking on, and knowing not the outcome.
People do this, don't they?
Not really.
You see, even treacherous journeys have a predicted, if not desired, result.
We do live life this way, though. Sometimes. In our youth especially.
I want to go to Rome; sell my car, book a flight, enjoy...
You do not ask the why of yourself with any events that make you feel very much alive.
You go for it, you do it, you kick tales and take names later.
I am often reminded of Walt Whitman's, "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes."
Let us begin somewhere. Even if it is by developing an image of what we want to see at the end of our lives. Work backwards, What will we do to get to that eventual point? What are your means to an end? Start there and just maybe, you will have written the best story anyone has ever even dreamed of.
-Blaise Pascal
How true is this in my own life? How many times have I sat to start an essay, a novel, a blog, and just told myself, "Write!" Starting somewhere was the most important step because otherwise, I could think myself to death trying to find the perfect beginning. And yet, that beginning, those words, would catapult me into the rest of the novel. I could talk myself out of every placement of noun and apostrophe, just to keep myself back from beginning, at any point.
Is this true of life? My life or yours? Do we stop ourselves from ever developing an idea because our entrance into the water does not live up to the ending result of swimming?
There is no fear in not knowing where to begin. It is not a fear that holds us back from moving forward, from initiating, but a lack of confidence in knowing where to begin. I am not scared to write my book. I sit at my desk with trepidation perhaps, but those feelings of joy and anticipation are present on almost any wedding night. No, not fear, but what then?
A knowledge that we will not put the right word down first is certainly a nagging conception. A nagging conception that sometimes turns into unfortunate defeat. I...can...not...keep...going...with...this...doubt...inside.
So...
How to conquer whatever it is this is?
Fear, I can handle. I will not be afraid. I cam handle what comes.
Ah, but this is not a mugging I will walk away triumphantly from.
This is an adventure I am embarking on, and knowing not the outcome.
People do this, don't they?
Not really.
You see, even treacherous journeys have a predicted, if not desired, result.
We do live life this way, though. Sometimes. In our youth especially.
I want to go to Rome; sell my car, book a flight, enjoy...
You do not ask the why of yourself with any events that make you feel very much alive.
You go for it, you do it, you kick tales and take names later.
I am often reminded of Walt Whitman's, "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes."
Let us begin somewhere. Even if it is by developing an image of what we want to see at the end of our lives. Work backwards, What will we do to get to that eventual point? What are your means to an end? Start there and just maybe, you will have written the best story anyone has ever even dreamed of.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Just When...
Just when you think you know something, you'll meet someone who knows better.
Just when you're getting comfortable, everything changes.
Just when you have started to "get better" at something (like holding your tongue-for instance), you have a setback.
But then...there are the other kind of just whens.
The good kind.
Just when you are feeling lonely, you'll find a friend.
Just when you're desperate, you get what you need.
Just when you're done, you'll get that break.
And, just when you've given up, someone will come beside you, make you smile, and encourage you to keep going.
Don't give up, there's always another just when around the corner.
Just when you're getting comfortable, everything changes.
Just when you have started to "get better" at something (like holding your tongue-for instance), you have a setback.
But then...there are the other kind of just whens.
The good kind.
Just when you are feeling lonely, you'll find a friend.
Just when you're desperate, you get what you need.
Just when you're done, you'll get that break.
And, just when you've given up, someone will come beside you, make you smile, and encourage you to keep going.
Don't give up, there's always another just when around the corner.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
{The Only} 5 Things You Can Say to a Mom
I've seen enough witty articles to know a little bit about the so-called "Mommy Wars."
These wars are all about who's better, who's safer, who's more maternal, and at the heart of it all, who is just all around RIGHT. (That's it ladies, let's propagate high school drama well beyond those
traumatic years).
With that said, I've come up with a rebuttal. Here is my list of the safest conversation pieces I could find for one mom to another---regardless of self-applied labels (see disclaimer below).
1. "Gee, the weather looks nice today."
*Note: this may be replaced with a negative statement regarding the weather if the weather deserves it.
This tops our list for one very simple reason. It is a statement that is completely devoid of feeling, and thereby will not be interpreted as "judging" the other mother (even by the most sensitive of mothers).
2. "I remember when I was a baby, in the womb. It was dark!" Ignore for the moment that this is a lie. Lies are ok when we are being social and want to be accepted (and accepting) of others. It is also a nonconfrontational, autobiographical statement that is completely unremarkable as far as personal parenting skills go.
3. "You look beautiful!" Compliments are always acceptable and they are a part of every female friendship. There is a caveat. If this item is chosen, be prepared for varying responses. A person might respond boringly with "Thank you." Or, modestly with, "Me? I just threw these clothes on!"
It is rare, but you might also expect a genuine smile and a returned compliment. This is a good thing, a friendship can be achieved.
4. "Would you like some water?" This appears to be a safe suggestion. Of course, the author of this piece can not be held responsible if this question backfires when a woman suffering PMS misconstrues the meaning and becomes offended-presuming you are implying she watch her calorie intake. In this most unfortunate circumstance, simply explain that water is the only substance you are capable of offering.
5. "May I see pictures of your kid/kids?" Best opening line ever. No mom will fault you for taking an interest in their little protégés. Just make sure you've got some extra time to hear all the explanations of how Little Darling has Daddy's eyes, but Mommy's nose or how Tiny Timmy isn't actually tiny--it's just an endearing nickname.
No matter where you fall on the various issues of Mommy Wars, this list will save you loads of arguments, behind the back grumble, and potential lose of friendships.
In case you can't remember the talking points though, here is a simple list of topics you can easily avoid in order to salvage your relationships with other moms. Let me begin:
NEVER, never, mention Working Mom or Stay at Home Mom. Don't even suggest you belong to one
category or the other.
Also, (in connection) do not mention having more kids, if they are done, if there is a timeline. Basically, stay away from showing any interest in their family and/or size thereof. This is perceived as incredibly rude.
Additionally, don't say anything overly compassionate or sympathetic, like "You must be working hard," or "You probably need a break." These comments construe that (again) you are judging a mom's work ethic, or prioritizing over her children. Tisk-tisk!
Don't ask about eating habits. Do you really want to know if one kid eats from the breast or not? Trust me--don't go here with strangers.
Similarly, you really shouldn't ask about liquids. "Does Sweet Baby ever get juice in a sippy?" BAM! Just like that, you walked into a danger zone. The Dos, Do Nots, and the Only So Often, and the Completely Watered Downs live here.
And then there's the question of organic, co-sleeping, tv watchers, single, swaddlers, moby users, library goers, helicopter type.
You may wander from my 5 talking points, but clearly you'll be doing so at your own risk!
Share wisely!
Jenn
Copyright @jennifercotham 8/12/15
These wars are all about who's better, who's safer, who's more maternal, and at the heart of it all, who is just all around RIGHT. (That's it ladies, let's propagate high school drama well beyond those
traumatic years).
With that said, I've come up with a rebuttal. Here is my list of the safest conversation pieces I could find for one mom to another---regardless of self-applied labels (see disclaimer below).
1. "Gee, the weather looks nice today."
*Note: this may be replaced with a negative statement regarding the weather if the weather deserves it.
This tops our list for one very simple reason. It is a statement that is completely devoid of feeling, and thereby will not be interpreted as "judging" the other mother (even by the most sensitive of mothers).
2. "I remember when I was a baby, in the womb. It was dark!" Ignore for the moment that this is a lie. Lies are ok when we are being social and want to be accepted (and accepting) of others. It is also a nonconfrontational, autobiographical statement that is completely unremarkable as far as personal parenting skills go.
3. "You look beautiful!" Compliments are always acceptable and they are a part of every female friendship. There is a caveat. If this item is chosen, be prepared for varying responses. A person might respond boringly with "Thank you." Or, modestly with, "Me? I just threw these clothes on!"
It is rare, but you might also expect a genuine smile and a returned compliment. This is a good thing, a friendship can be achieved.
4. "Would you like some water?" This appears to be a safe suggestion. Of course, the author of this piece can not be held responsible if this question backfires when a woman suffering PMS misconstrues the meaning and becomes offended-presuming you are implying she watch her calorie intake. In this most unfortunate circumstance, simply explain that water is the only substance you are capable of offering.
5. "May I see pictures of your kid/kids?" Best opening line ever. No mom will fault you for taking an interest in their little protégés. Just make sure you've got some extra time to hear all the explanations of how Little Darling has Daddy's eyes, but Mommy's nose or how Tiny Timmy isn't actually tiny--it's just an endearing nickname.
No matter where you fall on the various issues of Mommy Wars, this list will save you loads of arguments, behind the back grumble, and potential lose of friendships.
In case you can't remember the talking points though, here is a simple list of topics you can easily avoid in order to salvage your relationships with other moms. Let me begin:
NEVER, never, mention Working Mom or Stay at Home Mom. Don't even suggest you belong to one
category or the other.
Also, (in connection) do not mention having more kids, if they are done, if there is a timeline. Basically, stay away from showing any interest in their family and/or size thereof. This is perceived as incredibly rude.
Additionally, don't say anything overly compassionate or sympathetic, like "You must be working hard," or "You probably need a break." These comments construe that (again) you are judging a mom's work ethic, or prioritizing over her children. Tisk-tisk!
Don't ask about eating habits. Do you really want to know if one kid eats from the breast or not? Trust me--don't go here with strangers.
Similarly, you really shouldn't ask about liquids. "Does Sweet Baby ever get juice in a sippy?" BAM! Just like that, you walked into a danger zone. The Dos, Do Nots, and the Only So Often, and the Completely Watered Downs live here.
And then there's the question of organic, co-sleeping, tv watchers, single, swaddlers, moby users, library goers, helicopter type.
You may wander from my 5 talking points, but clearly you'll be doing so at your own risk!
Share wisely!
Jenn
Copyright @jennifercotham 8/12/15
Thursday, June 4, 2015
The Pros and Cons of Feminism
After much delay, I am finally going to excavate the masses within my mind, my heart, and my soul and break down, identify, my preconceived notions, my beliefs, and my intuitions regarding feminism.
I've held onto the belief that I am a modern feminist---but in light of some reading I've been doing recently, I probably need to scrape that label.
On the flip side, I'm definitely not ready to be labeled as a Martha Stewaet or "Suzy the Homemaker."
I'm leaning more towards the simple explanation that in practice, I'm a housewife, but in Spirit, I'm Rosy the Riveter.
I believe, 100% in a woman's right to work outside the home. I am also 100% thankful I married someone who supports my decision to stay home and raise our children.
And
Our
Road
Has
Been
Rough.
It's not like I'm the kind of girl to go, "Hey, I have no other aspirations, so yes let's have some kids and I'll stay home. I have nothing else I'd rather do."
I also wasn't chomping at the bit to find work once I had my first delivery. I wanted to spend every moment with my son more than anything I've ever wanted.
So, here I am, struggling with the complexities of my decision.
My husband and I agree. We want one of us to stay with our boys until they're three and/or ready for preschool. I breastfeed and tend to keep the kids close by so it would make sense that I stay here while he goes out.
And since I'm here, it makes sense that I would cook and I would clean.
And when you're doing something most days of the week, it makes sense that you would get really good at doing those things and that you would be comfortable juggling kids, and chores, and household duties "all in a day's work."
The only problem is the not getting paid part. All this work and nothing material to show for it. Sure, I'm greatly compensated for it in love and affection, but this zero sum makes my philosophy on feminism a bit wobbly.
At least when women were expected to stay home, they didn't have to try to prove how valuable they were as housewives. People already knew that. That's why there was a designated position for them.
Now though, it's like staying home is the equivalent of saying I'm a leech. A leper, or a saint. Depending on who you're asking.
I'm not really asking anymore. I'm not even defending. I'm just trying to come to terms with who I am daily (so NOT a liberal feminist, but oddly close seeing as I breastfeed) and who I have been for so many years---pro rights. Make your own decisions. Go big or go home.
But now I'm all, "it's a baby, not a fetus" and what not. I guess this is really easier said than done. Good luck to you if you're still trying to figure it all out. I'm getting nowhere.
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