I can vent, right?

So. A blog. A place to rant. A place where you can get it all off your chest. Let me quote Jimmy Fallon in SNL days gone by: "I have an opinion!".
I want to propose to you to revise the well-meaning statement that "she's a good mom" and "he's a good dad". Here's why: I feel that the way that we measure dads is unparallel to the way we measure moms in our society. It feels like if a dad takes just a little bit of initiative and shows just a touch of enthusiasm he is branded with an enthusiastic title of "GOOD DAD!". Whereas it seems, more and more, that a mom has to be accomplished in the consistency department, the parks and rec department, the meal planning department, the multi-tasking with a smile on my face department, the remember to plan an epic birthday celebration department, the don't forget to put on cute clothes for class pictures department, the screen preschools department, the have a gift closet department, the invite people to dinner department, the organize the closet department, the shop the end of the season for next year's needs department, the decide what sport is coming up next department, the send birthday and Christmas cards department, the stock the art supplies department, the wipe behind the toaster department, the remember to buy Comet, dryer sheets, A&D, plastic Easter eggs department and on and on. And on.
It feels a lot like it's a surprise to be rewarded when a dad steps up to meet the broad range of his children's needs. And a crime when a mom drops one of the 999 balls she has in the air at any given moment.
Let's consider a blanket celebration of good parents. The ones that work together to get things done. And the ones that know that, as my dear friend says, they don't get a cookie for taking care of their OWN KID.
I'm glad my husband is a good dad. And that I'm a good mom. And that together we are equally good parents who deserve equally enthusiastic praise and that our efforts should not be attatched to gender expectations or guaged according to what "most" men or "most" women do. Because the men may always win and the women may consistently fall short.
Just a thought (or two).

Oh baby the places we'll go!

The end of an era and the promise of adventure is upon us! We've left the volatile edge of infancy behind us, emerging on the exciting side of manageability.
For months Mike and I have been saying to each other, "it's going to get a lot easier... soon". And it has been progressively more manageable... but we were both feeling the need to prove that Ryan could sit still for longer than half of a Happy Meal. For months we've denied ourselves real restaurants and events for the very real fear that it would all go to hell just as we were starting to enjoy ourselves. Sitting still and eating quietly are simple not engaging activities for our relentlessly busy child.
It would go something like this. I'd ask Mike, "should we all try to go out to dinner tonight?" and he'd say "are you sure you want to do that?" and I'd go to bat for my son, vouching-- saying earnestly, "Honey, I really think he'll surprise us... he's grown up a lot lately". And, my husband, being supportive and loving and knowing that the house is feeling smaller and smaller with each passing moment and that if I didn't get out and do something with the general population my minor frustrations would blossom into a full-on break-down would kindly agree. (Disclaimer to those of you who may not know for sure... I am not a fragile person. Nor am I dramatic. I'm simply a human being that can sometimes start to show signs of wear after doing the same thing over and over again, with sometimes very little reward or sense of productivity. I stay at home with my kids. It's the best. But also sometimes demeaning and obnoxiously monotonous.) Then we'd arrive at a restaurant with toys, crayons, juice, and hope, sit down, order.... then take turns keeping Ryan from climbing onto the table, under the table, over the booth backs for the duration of our meal... which would often just come home with us in a box so we could slink out of there before it went from bad to worse. Then I'd apologize to Mike. (He never says, "I told you so".)
Therefore, when I suggested a drive to Olympia (9 hours! One way!) to visit my wonderful sister-in-law and her equally wonderful family it took a couple rounds of "are you sure we want to do that?" and a few dramatic statements regarding my fear for my mental health if we didn't do something different, exciting, and ambitious so I could feel alive and rebooted-- for my super supportive husband to jump on board. Sure, there were a few comments acknowledging the doom that could be awaiting us as we pulled from our subdivision, already submersed in drama, demands and tons TONS of crap that we "needed" to bring.




Cliff Note summary: we made it home in 4 pieces (which is ideal, of course) and were, by the grace of God, rebooted, refreshed, and ready for a summer of more outings, less crap to bog us down, and more dinners out... but then again, let's not get ahead of ourselves.