five things | from the week I learned all the things

1. It's 9 a.m. on Saturday morning. I'm sitting on my front stoop drinking coffee while Edie watches people run a half marathon. Watching people run is the same thing as actually running, right? No? Any who, watching people run a race never fails to make me cry. I'm that girl who always cries watching people do something they've trained for, no matter the event. (Turns out, I'm not made entirely of stone. Whoodathunk?!) Partly because my body hurts for them because running has always felt like such a miserable experience but mostly because I'm incredibly inspired by anyone who runs for fun.

2. You remember when your mom used to go to Tupperware parties when you were younger and you would sometimes tag along because you were absolutely NOT about to turn down a dinner of crust-less cucumber sandwiches, red neck sushi (a flour tortilla, ham, cream cheese, and lettuce cut like a sushi roll), and store-bought cupcakes? Well, replace the Tupperware with silicone, water-safe adult entertainment massage devices *wink wink* and the cucumber sandwiches with wine and you've got yourself the highlight of my week. Sitting around and discussing the Art of the Female Orgasm really makes one realize how far women have come in a society that still likes to pretend that women aren't (or shouldn't be) sexual beings. I will say that being asked to draw your ideal penis on a piece of paper on top of your head without looking was much more difficult that one would expect. Hence the facial expression I'm displaying in this photo with my oldest and dearest friend, Jenn.

3. I wrote yesterday about not always feeling like I'm living up to the mom I want to be. I got a response on Instagram from a sweet mama who told me that she identifies with the expressed sentiment because she "often feels lost between all the mushy-love-of-my-life-as-a-mom women." And I get it. Women are often sold this idea that becoming a mother will somehow create this unique and life-altering shift where we no longer identify as the individual we once were because identifying as someone's mother makes the person we once were unidentifiable. "I don't remember what life was like before I had Lucy..." "I can't imagine life without Most Perfect Child Ever..." Well, I call bullshit. I definitely remember my life before I became a mom and it was glorious. I imagine a life without children and all I can see is a more well-rested version of myself who isn't anxious and constantly covered in something I can't identify. I'm absolutely not saying that I actually want that life again but I can sure as shit imagine it. Entering motherhood doesn't guarantee that we'll experience that epiphany that so much of what we once thought matters doesn't actually matter. Having a human exit your body or however you get ushered into martyrdom doesn't mean that you are no longer entitled to still the person you once were or that you were any less complete before your little gremlin showed up. There is a lot that could be said on this topic and I want to discuss it in further detail at some point. The bottom line is that I find the whole projection of Motherhood is Everything unfair while also setting so many of us up for failure. So, can we just stop? Can we quit selling (and buying into) this idea that motherhood is the end-all, be-all for ALL women? And if you aren't a mother by choice or you are and aren't entirely fulfilled by it, that maybe, just maybe, it's... I don't know... okay? *end rant*

4. Stupid. That's what someone called me this week because we had a difference of political opinion. Don't most people learn how to respectfully agree to disagree in elementary school? I'm fairly certain that calling someone stupid because they don't see things in the exact light you do says a hell of a lot more about you as a human being than any opinion on any matter could ever say about the person you find stupid. It says you're very likely intolerant, close-minded, and judgemental as fuck. Calling someone stupid (or any other name) also leads me to believe that YOU are probably not very intelligent (and probably a giant brat) if you're a grown adult who still calls people names when you don't get your way. Interestingly enough, I've been called many things over the course of my life by many different people for a multitude of reasons. Some were true while others were obviously reaching with no basis of truth to fall back on whatsoever. And, yet, over the course of twenty-nine years of name-calling, stupid has never, EVER been one of them. I wonder if it's because I'm not?

5. I've been suffering from a bit of writer's block lately. It wasn't until this week when everyone started being assholes and everything in my life started acting like it was out to get me that I was able to realize exactly why I couldn't seem to form a sentence that was worth reading. The problem was that writing about being happy is much harder than writing about one's problems. As soon as shit started hitting the fan, all the words came faster than I could keep up. I find it ironic that I almost always tend to have the most to say (or the most to try to make sense of) when I have the least amount of spare time to figure out a way to say it. But whatever. I guess Hemingway was right. You should write hard and clear about what hurts, if only because it's easier to write about because being happy is boring. He could have, however, been a little more of a team player and advised aspiring writers to find another hobby when you don't have anything to bitch and moan about.


Happy Saturday, folky folks.

Let's make it count.