Quote of the Day

A few years ago, (when I had only one child!), I muttered aloud to a good friend about wishing I had more time to write, about how work and family so monopolized me that I had no energy left for creative pursuits - for reading, for writing, even for exercise. Some time later my friend gave me a book: “If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit” by Brenda Ueland.

Ueland, a Minneapolis author who taught evening writing classes, often to women ‘homemakers’, published the book in 1938, and the title is somewhat deceiving. It’s less about writing as a craft and more about finding the freedom to foster individual creativity and pride. For me, the book has become a go-to source of inspiration and motivation on days when I am questioning whether to blog, or read my book club book, or run, or do any of those “low-priority” Google to-do tasks.

For example, she writes:

…[I]f you are always doing something for others, like a servant or a nurse, and never anything for yourself, you cannot do others any good. You make them physically more comfortable. But you cannot affect them spiritually in any way at all. For to teach, encourage, cheer up, console, amuse, stimulate or advise a husband or children or friends, you have to be something yourself. And how to be something yourself? Only by working hard and with gumption at something you love and care for and think is important.

I thought I’d share - just as a little reminder that whether you love to write, sing, or draw, to bake, craft or knit, to argue, campaign, or organize, to run, swim, or golf - it’s not just important to do those things “for yourself” - it’s necessary to your jobs as parent, spouse and friend.

Posted in Job of Mom |

If you dare wear short shorts …

It never occurred to me that I should shave my legs.  I don’t even recall being aware of leg hair.  Not until the summer before 8th grade on the Midway at the Montana State Fair. 

My best friend Julie and I were riding some amusement ride that whisked us high above the Fairgrounds and then stopped for loading and unloading.  We were swinging away, chatting it up about the cute boys on the ground below, when a crisp Montana gust came along and caused the fine blonde hairs on my leg to stand on end.

“Holy Cow,” remarked Julie, honest and amused, but not intentionally unkind, ”you look like an albino gorilla.”

That was the end of my youthful ignorance and the beginning of my hair removal life.

I bring this up only because, much to my disbelief and dismay, my 5 year-old daughter has recently started talking about her non-existent leg hair and lamenting that she doesn’t want her legs to someday be ”all hairy like Daddy’s.” 

I told her that all kids have hairy legs, and that when she’s a grown up she can choose whether to keep the hair or remove it..  I sensed her frustration with me immediately, “Oh, I’ll get rid of it,” she promised. 

So, tell me, was I the exception, or are our daughters growing up way, way, faster than we did?

Posted in The Fretting Feminist |