Country Girls

One of the most surprising things for me to learn upon going to the big city was that, for the first time in my life, I faced blatant sexism.  I very much remember the first time well.  I was sitting in Constitutional Law class when a guy my age made some comment to the tune of how 50% of the class (guess which half?) belonged in the kitchen.  He was totally kidding, right?  Nope.  He was provoking people?  Nuh-uh.  The kid (and several others who sided with him) believed that those of us missing Y chromosomes (and various body parts) had no business being lawyers.

The worst part is that he wasn't alone.  Both intentional and wholly unintentional bias is rampant throughout the legal profession.  By the time you get to the top of most firms, particularly large firms, you can usually count on one hand the number of women.  Some of it is the choice of women--when faced with ivy league college tuition costs for preschools versus staying home with the kids, something has to give if it can.  Some of it is that law schools weren't 50/50 until about my generation, so maybe they're making their way to the top.  I doubt it.  A lot of it really is that there is a wide-spread belief, among peers and more often among clients, that the woman can't cut it. 

I'm not preaching today about the situation.  It is what it is.  But what absolutely SHOCKED me is that it really doesn't seem that way here.  I had come to assume that it was my experience that was unique.  I was surrounded by incredible people who never once questioned, nor let me question, my abilities because I am a woman.  And over the past several years, I figured that these people were just special.  Well, they are.  But I also really do think that things are just different out here.  When you think about it--it makes sense.  Life here is primarily about survival.  Particularly for those who came from farm and ranch backgrounds.  The women typically had/have a heckuvalotta kids and raise them while branding cattle and shooting deer.  Those without such histories simply need to be able to hold their own (and typically can--my advice is to pick bar fights in Montana with guys).  Or maybe I am painfully stereotyping.  Regardless, unless they are women with too much money and way too much time, the chicks out here are badasses.  And the people out here love them that way.

There's some relief in this realization for me.  I felt pretty down about the entirety of the world, based on some of my experiences.  I just couldn't fathom that the world really is a place where women are secondary.  And I started to think that I was the freak because I didn't think that was right.  Well, gentlemen and particularly ladies, I am here to tell you that I may be a freak, but the belief that women are anything lesser ain't the "way of the world."  So don't buy it.  And if it comes to it, get yourself a horse and come on out to the wilderness.  We could always use another badass or badass supporter.

Vacation Time

Recently, I had an absolutely blissful vacation.  Seriously, it was amazing--the rest and relaxation, the overeating, the beautiful landscape.  You see, thanks to one of the world's kindest women, I was given the afternoon off from my life.  I went to a movie.

First and foremost, let me say that I love the people in my life as well as many aspects of it.  And particularly when it comes to my kid, I am grateful for each and every minute that I have with him.  But as we all know, there are days when you just need a break from your life, even if you are rich and famous like Rupert Murdoch.  Ok, bad example.  But my point is that every once in a while, escapism is fantastic.  And if you are a parent without reprieve at all, well, those moments are vital.

I used to get paid to travel the world.  I had clients located throughout the world and was blessed to get to spend days in Milan, Brussels, New York and Dublin.  And I loved my job.  So back then, even my working travels seemed like vacations.  When I did go on vacation it was to romantic destinations like the Caribbean (with my mother, mind you, but it was still fun--more fun, actually).  I knew how to vacay.  And I was VERY particular about how vacation time was spent.  Even if I was able to shop or eat well or have an occasional spa treatment, it all had to be the best.  I had absolutely NO reason for being such a snob, mind you, apart from the fact that I could. 

Let's just say things are different.  I can't possibly leave the city right now, let alone the country, for a number of reasons.  And relaxation sort of goes out the door when you worry 24/7 about things like food and shelter.  That said, when you have guardian angels, miracles can happen.  The other day, my aunt (with appearances by my dad) watched my son for an entire afternoon.  Knowing how much I needed to just get away for a few hours, she gave him an afternoon of bliss.  And I disappeared into air conditioned pretend land and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't me making up the stories.  I was a little disheveled after I came out into the sunshine, but I was calm and happy.  And was very much ready to see my kid.

Don't get me wrong--I would love to wake up tomorrow in Hawaii.  But now I would prefer that my family be with me.  I don't think having a kid or moving changed me, so much as it brought me back to me.  I still love nice stuff, and would do almost anything to win the lotto.  But in the meantime, these little respites make me about as happy (if not happier in some ways).  I don't recommend having your life turned upside down.  But if it does go all topsy-turvy, it may take you to the people who matter most.  The ones who are there for you when you need them.  And maybe you might be lucky enough to find yourself out there in vacation land, too.

The "Real" Me

See? Madonna forgets too

I have been doing something lately that I find offensive.  First, let me say that I don't find it offensive in others, by any means.  Just me.  And if you see me wandering around the Home Depot or Albertsons lately, you would see why.  For the first time in about 25 years, I am leaving the house without makeup.

It's not really the fact that I'm doing it, so much as the fact that I don't even notice.  I literally forget to try to look nice. Today, for example, I walked in the house, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the living room, and almost had a heart attack because I thought I was being visited by my long-passed great-grandmother Lucille.  And, please don't haunt me Lucille, but toward the end there you weren't that much of a looker even when alive.  But my point is, I had absolutely no idea that I had gone into public like that.  I even had some stupid barrette hanging off of the side of my head, that I had put in so that I could see where I was aiming the hose when the kid and I were playing water wars.  So sad.

In Chicago, as you can imagine, it's not normal for anyone to go anywhere without full makeup.  You are allowed to pretend that you don't have any on, only if you are coming from your yoga class and are "glistening" with sweat and chic beauty.  But even then you still have on 3 inches of concealer and mascara.  I even stopped going to the grocery store after I had a baby, just so I didn't have to put my face on.  Sure, I said it was so that someone else could climb stairs with 12 jugs of formula water, but in truth it was because I didn't have the energy to look decent.

Fast forward.  Now not only do I not have the energy, I apparently don't have a clue.  This has gone on for multiple days.  If those who "talk" here had seen me, I'm quite certain I would have been the talk of the party circuit for months.  Not pretty--neither literally nor figuratively.

So, am I losing my mind or my inhibitions?  This one is a toss-up.  Sure, it's sort of freeing to literally not care.  But it's also disturbing.  Shouldn't we want to look good for our fellow mankind?  Or as a single, jobless mom, have I just completely stopped caring?  Sigh.  Gladly accepting Sephora samples and Maybeline rejects.  If not for me, send them for the good of the city.

Too Soon?

Reprinted from
http://www.elisemyers.wordpress.com/
And I am sorry if this photo
offends you.  It makes me
feel better about my parenting.

As you are likely aware, I am a huge sports fan.  There are very few sports that I have come across that I don't like, love, or at least tolerate enough to have on TV during the day (perhaps curling...).  For example, this weekend I was in heaven watching the British Open golf, the World Cup soccer ("football" to some of you), and, well, watching the Cubs suck.  Pretty standard, really.  All I needed was some football (sorry, "American football") and I would have been set.  It was great.

I spent many hours when I was pregnant worrying that my son would not like sports.  It wasn't that I was worried that he wouldn't want to play--I will absolutely pretend to support him if that is his decision.  But I was afraid that he wouldn't tolerate them.  And, as they are almost always on in my house, that could be a huge problem.  I still worry about it.  But now I'm also starting to worry another way....

I am starting to become afraid because of my kid's obsession with sports.  He says a few choice words these days, but the biggies are:  "hi," "up," "ball" and "go, Cubs, go."  No, really.  And "ball" means any and every round, possibly bouncy object AND basketball hoops.  When we go for a walk, it's all I hear, because there are so many hoops in my neighborhood.  He got so excited this morning at finding a new hoop in the hood, I thought I was going to have to tackle him.  At which point he probably would have bounced up and yelled "touchdown." 

The other night, we were reading his formerly favorite book, "Boy of Mine."  It's about how awesome he is and how much I love him.  But he literally smacked it out of my hand and made me pick up a book his aunt Kate gave him called "Chicago Cubs, 101."  Thanks Kate.  It teaches the history of the Cubs, as well as the basics (bat, ball, Ron Santo, etc).  He made me read it over and over and over again.  And by the fourth time, I sort of started to freak out.  Really?  You don't want to read "Goodnight Moon"?  Should we watch The Wiggles?  How about a nice game of peek-a-boo?  Nope.  The kid wants to read sports books.

Don't get me wrong--I love this.  I will tell anyone and everyone around that he is a sports nut with a pride that really should be reserved for actual accomplishments.  I'm thinking of having him sing the Bears fight song into a recording, so that we can be rich and famous.  BUT...isn't it a bit...much?  The kid is one.  I don't want him to burn out.  He'll be hating all things "ball" by the time he's in preschool. 

So what do you think, public?  Do I have a budding first baseman, or a kid who will never talk to his mother again because he hates all things sports by the age of 5?  And am I Mother of the Year (though I have no control over his likes) or is child services coming for me soon?  Don't answer that last one.

Ouch.

My ex and his new wife.

As a handful of you can attest, I was not very nice to my college boyfriend.  It most certainly wasn't intentional, but you could probably say that I was downright horrible.  It is something that I have felt awful about for years.  I was young and commitment phobic, he was mature and looked toward the future.  All in all, I was a huge jerk.

I have tried, intermittently, to apologize to him.  But it's going on over 15 years, and my apologies still haven't been accepted.  As I mentioned, we were all a very tight-knit group and still try to keep in touch as much as possible.  Sadly, though, when I say "we," he's not really included.  I think R in Idaho may have had some contact, but other than that, it's been radio silence.  But in the past few weeks, I have had the VERY great pleasure of talking with a handful of our clan and it has been a great tonic.  So, I thought, it would be fun to try to track down college guy and try again to mend the friendship.  So I did what all sane, adult people do these days.  I cyber-stalked him.  It took about 5 minutes, but I found him.  Photo and everything, on a blog his sister writes.  He has changed professions and states, but looks to be doing well.  And then I saw it.  Last fall he got married.  Ouch.

Before you get all indignant, I'm not upset that he married someone other than me.  As I said, it was 15 years ago, and I was...mean.  But it's just seeing it there, all in cyber-reality.  The photo of him with his wife at some party, looking all happy.  I realized that I was never going to get a chance to apologize.  He wouldn't be joining our email chats.  He would be coming to Vegas with us and our kids (when they're older, of course.  Is 5 too young for Vegas?).  He had gone and made a huge life change without telling any of us.  He had walked away.

I guess I forget that my closest friends are allowed to have lives without me.  That's shocking to me.  What do you mean, you don't want my opinion or good wishes?  Or, in this case, what do you mean you don't want my apologies?  I guess I need to learn to let things go.  AND to be nicer to people.  Because you never know when you might lose them.