You know, the older I get-or the more life experiences I have-the more I realize just how cool it is to be this gender. Now, trust me: I have had my share of some of the things women just really don’t want to experience when it comes to girlie bits. I’ve been that mama, sobbing when someone else got pregnant when it took me over 3 years to figure out the medical field didn’t want to waste their time on me and I had to fight my battle alone. I’ve also won the battle and got exactly what I wanted-these awesome kidlets.
But what I’ve learned is that it’s not all about mothering, just because this body CAN do these things. It’s about more. It’s about being part of this gender known for nit-picking and mood-swinging and irrational behavior. That’s OK, dudes. See what you want. If we seem crazy, it’s probably because you made us this way.
I don’t know what it’s like to be male and I never will. But I do know what it’s like to be me. I know what it’s like to carry a child inside me. I know what a first kick-or the realization that the sensation I am feeling was actually movement from the fetus inside me-feels like. Because of hormones that were in place before I was born, I am comfortable with my emotions because it means I have passion in me. Here’s what happens: many of the people who read me are women. I know this because there are those of you who will comment or message me or text me or call me, if you know me really well. You feel something from my words or you relate or maybe you realize something was just put into words and you were thinking it all along. And you say something. Men…men don’t do this. Men read me. I have learned that they do and when they do, they are private in their reading. They are private in their replies, too. More often than not, I will receive messages or texts from the males saying they read my entire blog. They don’t really say anything though, other than that I am cute in my sharing. It doesn’t feel cute-yes, you who is reading this, you know who you are and that I mean you. You can call me cute, but what you aren’t is part of the gender that gets what I’m saying. I’m obviously lumping you all together. Some of you give an “Umph” at times. It’s just interesting.
I have been working almost solely with women for the past several years and it’s been an amazing experience. I have seen women come and go, but they all have something and they have all left a mark somewhere, be it my brain or my heart or that place I reserve for the rare few I vow will someday be erased completely and I will be left better because I was strong enough to walk to eff away.
On this particular chunk of time I think of the women I can call on. Today, The Big Awesome turns 6 years old. Knowing that my body was able to partially create this super amazing child when it was childless for so long-well that’s just incredible. Screw the doctors! I tried for years to get their help. Instead of using medicine, I used my brain and researched. TBA will learn that his mama is the woman a lot of people go to for answers. And when this mama can’t find the answers, questions start flying and fingers start typing. I like answers. When I have no more questions, my life will have been fully lived. Until then, I ask. Where did I get this? No doubt from my own mom. I got a lot from that woman. I got my humor from her. I got my interest in art from her because she encouraged/encourages me. When I think of my kid having a birthday, I think about all the birthdays and how grateful I am for these that I get to see and be part of. I also think of my sister because I can call her and say, “Can we do this at your house instead of mine?” And she’s like, “Duh!” She got the creative brains, too. Freaking geniuses, these women!
There are so many more of you, and so many more things I could write about you, but let me just share this little clique of women I have been a part of. My co-teacher lost her mom over the weekend. I did not know her mom, but she worked in the place I currently work and many people who come through with their children knew this woman. She was not only a mother to her children, she mothered other people’s children as well. From what I hear, she did it well. It’s been so cool to hear all of these women speak of this woman who impacted their own lives, most of the time for years. Well, in working with the theme here, we pass down to our children things that we learn from our mother’s or mother figures. And what I see is my co-teacher mothering her children…and so many more. And I’m not talking just little babies or preschoolers. Me. She mothers me. My mom is pretty far away right now. It’s not forever. It’s not easy. When I need mothering, I know my co-teacher will be there. When I don’t know I need mothering, my co-teacher is there giving me Hell and I love her for it. She’s like my mom when I can’t reach my mom.
All of the women that were able jumped on board to help out this week. We covered for our friend who mourned her mother’s death and celebrated her mother’s life. We jumped, eagerly, too. And yet, there’s this hole. There’s a hole for those who are experiencing the loss of a life, and there’s a temporary hole for our friend and the pain we know she’s going through. There’s a hole for all of the lives each of these women have touched. We went in tiny droves to visit and show our support-some of us covered in baby and looking a mess (sorry! :D). We stayed, we left, we talked, we laughed, we cried. We. This little unit of women supported our friend from afar. It sucked in a really beautiful way. We took over mundane work in silence and some of us even decorated for fall, trying to make our “mom” proud of us when she returns. I wish I could have been there for what I heard was a perfect celebration of an incredible woman. Many of our clique represented and even one incredible set of pipes! Right now life is going on when it seems like the world should be standing still.
Tonight, I invite you to be still. I invite you to think about the females who impacted you, and all the ones you impact, if you are female. Forget that, males, embrace your gender, too! Whatever that means, seeing as how I have NO idea…
I can only hope that what I grow up to be is me with a little bit of each of you flashing from inside me. I can hold a baby, carry a baby, love a baby, mourn a baby, be a mother, love a mother, lose a mother, love a fill-in mother, and celebrate a mother. I can learn from a woman, hear a woman, sing like a woman, feel like a female, and love like a girl. I can be feminine and I can be scruffy and everywhere in between. I can eat chocolate and throw things and cry and giggle and flirt and have conversations about saggy parts and ridiculous men who think they have a clue. I can rock a skirt and also some jeans. I can stand tall and be OK that I’m really quite petite. I can belt out a tune in honor of someone I love and I can put a hex on you before you know I’m seething.
Love the women. Love the girls, for one day they will be us. Teach them strength like only women know.
Love until later,