Psychobabble on the Boy/Girl Thing

I've figured out part of what bothers me about the whole "it's a boy thing" or "girls do this" or "boys don't do that" nonsense.  It's the underlying message that if you're a girl and you like to do a "boy thing," like ride a skateboard or listen to loud heavy metal music, you must not be a "real" girl.  It's the underlying message that if you're a boy and cry or carry a favorite stuffed animal and you're told that it's a "girl thing," then you're not a "real" boy.

Most people who spout off about gender generalities don't necessarily intend to push a message that someone's Pinocchio.  But it's annoying.  And it hurts me.  Which is silly.  But it does.

I think it hurts me because when we were expecting Middle One and found out he was a boy, I was crushed.  How terrible is that?  I was crushed.  Cried for four days.  We were sure he would be our last one (dumbasses how naive were we?) and I so wanted a girl.  I wanted a girl because I was sure my boys wouldn't want to do the things that I liked to do: cook, bake, garden, make stuff, read, be interested in our genealogy, etc.  

It took months for me to get a grip and recognize men can do all those things.  Just because my house was dominated by guys didn't mean my boys wouldn't or couldn't learn to cook and bake and garden and make stuff and share books with me and be interested in our family history.  It just meant I had to get over myself and teach them the things that matter to me.

So it's a very soft spot for me.  Turns out when Middle One was born, I fell so deeply in love with him that thinking back to my first reaction astonishes me.  I adore him.  And he loves to cook.  And his older brother loves to bake.  Ironically, I completely mostly got over my desire to have a girl and wanted to have another baby - bring on another boy!  Three pregnancies later, we had a healthy baby - who happened to be a girl.  

But the "boy/girl thing" is still a soft spot.  So, chances are, if you meet me at the park and make some dumbass crack comment about something being a boy or girl thing, I will most likely turn myself inside out to prove you wrong.  And that's my psychobabble quota for the year month week now.

~ G

The iPod Revelation

A couple weeks ago, I became the proud owner of an iPod Shuffle. It's tiny. It's pink. It was handed down to me by a darling friend who had just received her husband's handed-down iPod. Recycling! With new iPod in hand, it was time to load playlists compiled from the recently downloaded iTunes and uploaded CD collection.

Fast-forward to this past week when the house needed cleaning. (Oh, dear, did it need cleaning.) Plugging in to the iPod (with volume high enough for enjoyment, but low enough to hear the kids) offered excellent motivation for getting the job done. Two things were noted: One, after years in marching band the beat is still very easy to find and I found myself moving in time while vacuuming; Two, some of the music that spoke so deeply to my heart as a college student now falls flat.

I speak of the Indigo Girls. Oh, how I loved their music. It spoke to me. It meant something to me. A perfect song to match every moment of my life. I had all their albums and knew all the words. Each song served as a journey for me. Now? Well, ten years into marriage, three kids, a mortgage, two cars and a couple of cats and the music just doesn't speak to me like it did. Make no mistake - I don't have my life figured out, but I no longer have a heart searching for meaning and solace or pining over mistakes and old loves.

That revelation stumped me. Have I gotten boring and dull? Have I lost my sense of wonder and curiosity? No, on both counts. (Well, some might say I've gotten boring and dull, but chances are those people don't have much in common with me.) What does this revelation say about me and what does it say about the Indigo Girls?

At first blush, I'd say it means I'm settled. After the shock that the songs don't need to be on several of my playlists after all, I felt calm. Happy. Content. It's been ages since I've longed for a past love. It's been over a decade since I've wondered what I'd do next with my life. I'm married to my best friend. Yeah, he drives me insane in good and bad ways, but that man's my man. We make all our big decisions together. Even if I don't know what we're going to next, I know we'll talk about it and find the solution together. So, there goes half a dozen IG songs right there. I'm also mid-thirties now, so the constant questioning about who I am and what my purpose is (pay no attention to the blog entry two posts down) has become a non-issue. I'm a daughter of God, wife of a wonderful man, mother of (usually) charming children, and a chick who loves to laugh and say inappropriately hilarious things. I don't have it all figured out, but I sure don't have that crazed searching and frustration that I had fifteen years ago.

What does it say about the Indigo Girls? Well. It says their audience is the college crowd. They write music that's searching and soulful and hurting and seeking. What does it say about them? I don't know. Do romance novelists have slutty, torrid love affairs or are they using their imaginations? Amy Ray and Emily Saliers are artists. Their music saw me through about 6-7 years of my life - years I sometimes wish I hadn't been so hurried to leave. So, thank you Amy and Emily. Thank you for guiding me through my college years and into adulthood. Hey, because of you I paid more attention to Galileo in Philosophy 101.