Yesterday I was thanking my mom for all her hard work and complaining to Victoria about how much I don’t enjoy parenting. I love being a parent, I made that clear. Love it like a lawyer probably loves being a lawyer: all the status, the money, whatever. But the job, day to day, totally sucks. That’s what I was saying about parenting. I was feeling bad about it.  Guilty.  Worried. What’s wrong with me?  Then Victoria comes home with the July 12, 2010 New York Magazine. The cover story: All Joy and No Fun.  I know I’m not the first to discover that parenting can be a drag, but there, in front of my face, was this whole article saying acknowledging my feelings.  Studies show that people without children are happier than people with children.  Turns out, though, that it depends on how you define joy or fun or happiness.  In the long run, when bad memories help us become nostalgic about the past, having children makes us happy.

Dear Mom,

Thank you for parenting me.  As I remember, childhood was pretty good. You were attentive and sweet mostly and while I don’t remember making sculptures out of popsicle sticks or homemade Play-Doh, I do remember  getting lots of your attention.  How did you do it for so many years?

I am having trouble right now.  To be frank, Tashi is bugging the shit out of me.  And Sebastian is a monster.  But the real problem is how Tashi is always underfoot.  I remember this being a problem of yours too.  It is the one thing I remember us consistently fighting about.  You stepping on my toes.  It didn’t bother me, but I remember you getting a little hysterical sometimes, like when you would take a step onto my toes and then fall down.  Well, what goes around, comes around, as they say.  Tashi is just like me.  Somehow she manages to be always under my feet.  It’s hard when I’m wearing my platform flip-flops.

Oh, I know I shouldn’t complain.  I see how sad it makes you now-a-days when I don’t want to sit on your lap.  I saw it on Sunday, when you gave me that look and then patted your thighs and I said, “Oh Mom.”  But Mom, I can’t eat a meal without my little curly girl climbing on top of me.

And why did I think shopping for first-grade school supplies would be fun?  That fiasco was my own fault in so many ways.  First because I’ve raised a spoiled, rotten, persistent princess and second because I let myself get overly excited to get the supplies in the first place.  My elation came crashing down seven minutes into shopping when Tashi begged for the pretty pink scissors.  I agree, they were pretty, but I had already crossed scissors off the list because she has six pairs at home.  I said, “NO NEW SCISSORS!  You have six pairs at home.”  I felt strong for the first hour, but each time she begged I felt her wearing me down.  I stood strong though, thanks to you and all that I learned watching you fend me off all those years.  Still, it was exhausting and I don’t look forward to doing shopping for school supplies again next year or the next or the next.  I know, just eleven more years.

Another thing:  Why did I think bike riding with a 6 1/2 year-old would be fun?  It’s not.  We had fun though, you and I, didn’t we, when I’d jog and you’d ride next to me and we’d talk?  Well, I’ve been trying to replicate those good times.  Today, when we rode to camp because I crashed the van into a parked Jaguar and now it’s in the shop, I said, “Right turn!”  Tashi screamed, “Why are you always talking about bike stuff?” I said, “Bike stuff? I’m just telling you which way to turn.”  My point is, she was being a bitch for no reason.  And she was swerving into traffic.

She’s tired, I know.  She slept in bed with me last night because Victoria’s out of town and also because there was a big spider in her room, which was no Daddy Long Legs.  I killed it and then took it’s picture and we looked it up on the Internet.  Can’t say exactly what kind it was because I’m no arachno-specialist, but it was brown and hairy with a very big butt.  Also, Tashi didn’t sleep that well on account of it being crowded and with Beast breathing in our faces all night.  He gets protective when Victoria’s not around.  So I should have some compassion.  I remember how I could never fall asleep because it was so much fun being in your bed with you and Chaucer whenever Dad had poker night.

I know I should quit my bitching.  It wasn’t that bad sharpening all 48 pencils and putting Tashi’s name on them with the Sharpie.  She did a bunch of them herself and only cried twice because she messed up and couldn’t erase.  For some reason she thought her initials were N-H.  When I asked how she got that she said, “Nataaaasha.”  And it’s okay that I didn’t get to read the New York Times last night because I had to turn the light off for her.  And we did make it to camp safely, although we were an hour and a half late and I didn’t get to work until noon.  No big deal. I’m just writing to say that I like being a parent.  It’s the parenting that’s annoying.  I appreciate you doing it for me.  Thanks Mom.

Love,

Andrea

Look what Victoria did when Sebastian got his leg caught in the crib.  She doesn’t even know Karate.

Last night I did an interview with SistersTalk Radio.  It was so much fun.  A great interview.  The host was hard on me, which was really good.  She said that in my book, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, I came across racist.

I said, “I’ve been accused of being a brat, of being homophobic, of being an entitled cow, but never racist.”

She said I mentioned race whenever I described a character.  That race seemed to be at the top of my mind.

I think she might be right. When I wrote My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, I was a new writer. I thought then that I needed to physically describe all my characters.  If one of my characters was black or Latino or whatever, I probably said so.  But here’s my question:  Is awareness of race, racist?

Click here to link to the interview:

This is my commentary on the stupidity of blogs and social media.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about marriage growing up.  At first I was all for it.  I didn’t quite have the Cinderella dream, but I wanted to get married someday and saw myself with a husband and two or three kids and dogs and cats.  Later I leaned that marriage had it’s complications. Not domestically, although of course it does, but politically, like that it may have been started so men could own women.  This soured my taste for it.  Then I came out as a lesbian and with its historical muddiness and my own personal rejection from the club, I denounced it.  I said things like, Why would gay people even want to be part of this historically burdened institution.  Why waste our time fighting for marriage.

But now I feel differently.  I was asked a few years ago to facilitate a marriage for a straight couple.  I became a minister online and read a lot of other people’s ceremonies to understand why they would want to commit themselves for life and also to come up with what to say.  What I learned in that process was that the most important reason to get married is not legal or religious, but social.

Now, I’ve learned this from experience.  I got married a few weeks ago.  I think it was mostly inspired by my little-girl self who always wanted it.  But what I experienced taught me much more than what I learned studying about it. Marriage may have had a lousy beginning, but today it is a glorified institution we all should have access to if we want it.

I was cheered like a rock-star; my whole family (like 50 people) flew in from all over the country to be there; strangers beeped their horns when they saw the toilet paper and shaving cream on our car; my flight attendant gave us complimentary champagne when I said we were on our honeymoon; the concierge at our hotel, my friends, the flight attendant, the check out lady at the grocery store, everyone said CONGRATULATIONS! like I’d done something important.

People didn’t seem to care that I married a woman.  But everyone cared that I got married.

Today while Tashi and I were walking home from Sophie’s house, because Tashi had a sleepover, she told me she watched Peter Pan, the real movie, which meant it had actors instead of animation. I asked which she liked better, cartoons or real people and she said, “That’s a hard one.”

She told me Peter Pan was very sad. I asked why and she stopped walking. She said, “Peter came to the window and Wendy was having a party.” Her face got squished up and then she put her hands over your eyes and cried, real tears. She said, “Peter couldn’t go in.”

I watched her in pain and started to cry too. Then we both laughed.

We talked about how movies that make you cry are really good, even though they make you cry.

She asked me if Peter Pan was real and I said no. She asked if Mama Mia was real and I said no. Then she asked about the Sound of Music and I said, yes. I think that’s a true story.

She was wearing hot pink, glittery disco pants, a pinkish-purple, Puma T-shirt and hot-pink high tops. Mima took her shopping yesterday for your birthday.

She is a mix of super hip and cool and so sensitive and sweet. If I were her age, I’d definitely want to be friends with her.

Sebastian took a step yesterday. To the side. He stood with his hands out, not holding on. He stepped to the left with his left foot. His right foot followed. Then he sat down. He is 11 months and 13 days old. He’s a big boy.

Dear Posterity,

I realize I’ve been writing post-it notes about the fun or cool or noteworthy things that have been going on lately and not writing them down anywhere, except on post-it notes.  So right now, on the day after Christmas, while my family is at a kid’s birthday party and I am home alone because Victoria took the kids and gave me a pass, I will write them down.

1.  Tashi gave away all her Princess possessions.  The princess phase is OVER.  On the day before her 6th birthday, we cleaned out her closet and her toy chest (which is actually  her whole room) to make way for new toys.  We do this every once in a while.  I talk about how she has so much and how there are many children who don’t have very much at all.  I think she understands this concept because two years ago Tashi and I went to a small town in Guatemala and stayed in a little bungalow and the  woman in charge of the bungalow we stayed in lived in another bungalow right next to it.  She had a daughter named Luna, who was a year or so older than Tashi.  The two girls played together on hammocks outside our bungalows.  Luna and Tashi were playing inside our bungalow one night with two Brats that Tashi brought with her.  They were Teen Brats, not the slinky, sexy, hoochie-mama adult Brats.  Luna loved these Brats. I mean, LOVED.  She talked about how bella they were and once she discovered them, that was it for swinging on hammocks.  Before we left, I asked Tashi if she wanted to give Luna one of her Brats.  Tashi did.  I don’t remember how that went down, maybe Tashi was struck by how little Luna had. Luna had one doll to her name.  But I doubt it.  I probably made a deal with Tashi, which I do often.  ”You give Luna one of your Brats and I’ll let you eat dinner tonight. Deal?”

Deals worked so well for so long.  But now that Tashi’s six, she’s constantly trying to strike a deal with me.  ”I’ll have one cookie and you can have one cookie.  Deal?”

However it happened, Tashi gave Luna a Brat and I was so proud of my sweet, generous girl.  The next year I went back to Guatemala alone and brought Luna another Brat.  A gift from Tashi.

My point about Luna is that we talk about Luna whenever we clean out her toy chest.  So I think she understands that some people don’t have as much stuff as she has.  I worry a lot about this concept and don’t know how to actually teach my children to appreciate all they have.  I’m working on it.  I wanted to donate toys to needy children this year for Xmas, but didn’t figure out how to do that in time. I will next year.  I hope.  I want to.

So the day before Tashi turned six, she was really cool about clearing out and giving away her old things.  Not cool about everything.  She clung to a Barbie head that looks demented, in my opinion.  Not only because it’s just a head, but because it has blue lipstick, which is probably nail polish or maybe permanent marker, and other “make-up” and the hair…I just don’t like that thing.  But I didn’t make any deals about it because Tashi gave away four princess costumes, two sets of wings, two magic wands, three crowns, her Ariel backpack, a Sleeping Beauty bag, plastic glass slippers, and more.  I couldn’t believe it.  My girl is growing up.

There’s more, but I’m tired.

Love,

Andrea