Category Archives: daughters

normal conversations

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Zoë is home for a visit and the whole circus managed to be under the Big Top at the same time for meal time which is code for there was no commute traffic, classes, work, dance, tae kwon do, krav maga or anything else to get in the way of what was once a normal daily family event…dinner time together with normal dinner time conversation…er, normal for us. Yes, we do sit down and converse in spite of the ugly rumors. It just might not be normal in others’ humble opinions; because normal people don’t discuss things like nipple piercings, tattoos in Hebrew and training bras. Oh and we do talk about normal things too like what is this that we are eating, the weather, gas prices, homework and current events when we are able to gather together, the whole circus, at the table.

Last night’s gathering at the table proved to be no less fun and lively thanks to Representative Todd Akin and the likes of him who have clearly defined the hierarchy of the different levels of rape.

Who knew?! There are different types and some are more legit than others!

Unfortunately, victims don’t see it that way. I mean in the moment and then afterward…even years later…victims of rape are not considering the legitimacy of this act of violence, trauma and terror that they have survived. Frankly such discussions only bring back all that trauma, pain, shame, doubt and self-loathing all over again. I can only speak for one victim here but given the response all over the interwebs and media I am not alone. Rape is rape, period.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed over bowls of black and white chili, the consensus under the Big Top was that some, not all, but some politicians and pundits seem to want to make this election all about marginalizing women making decisions for us about our health care and what it is that we should be caring about and thinking about in this election year. The thing is there is so much more that we are concerned about right now, oh, and we vote…even us moms and our daughters…we do vote.Overall we agreed that pundits and politicians alike just need to stay out of our vaginas.

That’s right, politics and vaginas were discussed over dinner last night. Good times…the BEST of times! This is life with my circus. All in all, I have to say that I am proud to have birthed four very bright, articulate daughters from my vagina…even if they don’t always agree with me.

play it again: checked out in Target

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A recent conversation with a male friend (and a father of a daughter, younger than my girls) prompted me to recall this blog post, originally written just last year.

SIGH!

I guess for some it will always be 1950 in their minds and it will always be the girl’s fault/responsibility for what happens to her because of the way she is dressed. 

If only we could become more evolved in our thinking. If only we could be more proactive in teaching our daughters AND sons on how to dress with respect for their own bodies. If only we could teach our sons AND daughters that they are ultimately responsible for their own self-control and how they should treat others, especially members of the opposite sex.

If only.

It won’t be long when his own darling daughter is fourteen. Perhaps then he will truly understand that his own daughter isn’t necessarily dressing for or wanting such attention and that some men need to grow up and exhibit a little bit of respect and self-control.

It’s just another day of running errands and shopping at Target with one of my girls. Yes, my life is a glamorous one and because it is, we dressed for the occasion…jeans, t-shirt and a sweatshirt. I went a little crazy applying mascara but other than that, my daughter and I were dressed for the occasion in our usual comfortable and casual way that would only help to class up the Manteca Target the way that we do. Walking up and down the aisles, I find myself distracted by a cute pair of flats as my darling daughter walks on ahead pushing our cart.

I look up at her walking on ahead just in time to notice her passing a thirty-something couple with a cute little girl sitting in their shopping cart. The lady is looking at blouses and holds one up for the man she is with to notice. He notices…my daughter as she walks by.

Oh.

My.

God.

He is checking out her ass! My baby girl’s.

Being the mom that I am, I walk ahead to catch up to my darling daughter. As I pass the couple, I glare at the man who is still leering at my child.

“Shame on you! She is fourteen year’s old.“, I hiss.

He immediately looks away. The lady looks up to where my daughter is and smacks him. He deserved it. Perv.

Yes, I am that kind of mom who will call out grown men ogling one of my girls. Really. Just ask my daughters. Over at The Stir, another mom finds herself dealing with similar situations and shares her frustrations over men behaving badly. She poses the question “Have you ever caught an adult staring way too long at your child? How did you handle it? Did you just let it slide?” and the comments began. It seems that many readers believe that the daughter is at fault. In the comments it is assumed that obviously the child is dressed in such a way that the poor, innocent, grown man can’t help but fix his eyes in a leering way on her daughter. The girl is asking for it. Shame on her and shame on her mama for letting her dress like a little slut.

Interesting sidebar is most of the women who sided with the conclusion that the girls are asking for it either do not have children or were mothers of boys.

What is this? 1950? It’s the child’s fault? The girl is asking for such unwanted attention? So it would follow that my child, dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt also deserved to be leered at as well?

Honestly?

True, there are young ladies out in the world who do dress in  ways that can and do call attention to themselves. I have teen-aged daughters. I notice what their peers wear. They are the minority. Still, does that really excuse a man for behaving badly? I don’t think so. My observations, raising these girls of mine and protecting them from the pervy dogs we encounter is that there are some men who will ogle anyone with XX chromosomes regardless of what they are wearing or their age…well, okay maybe they wouldn’t be checking out my kids’ great-grandmother (although at age 92 she is still gorgeous)…still there are some guys in this world who are just dogs.

I blame their moms.

Why not? After all, it is NOT 1950. It’s high time that the guys learn  a little self-restraint and try to imagine someone like themselves checking out their precious baby girl. Pervy dude in Target, I’m looking at you.

today I have the courage

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I am not a hat person. In fact, I believe that I look ridiculous in hats. Wandering through the accessories department I want so much to just pick up a hat and try it on. Preening in the mirror I would see this gorgeous creature not ridiculous me wearing a hat that is obviously too small for my big head with even bigger hair.

I am not a hat person.

My daughters, on the other hand look great in hats…any hats. They put them on and transform into whatever characteristic the hat conveys and they strut around confidently wearing their hat. It’s the self confidence that they have, I know. Yes, I have been jealous of that confidence my girls have while at the same time congratulating myself and their father for being the awesome parents that we are to have raised up such dauntless human beings. If only I had that sense of self back when I was their age. I would have been wearing hats all the time.

Alas, I am not a hat person.

But the other day I decided to try on a hat…

and…

It fit! A ladies’ hat that fit my fat head! I kind of liked how I looked with it on too. So I bought it. Then I wore it today…all day…everywhere.

Perfect day to wear such a hat too since it was hot like seven inches from the mid-day sun hot.

I have a hat. It is graceful and feminine and has a wide brim with a red ribbon around the band. It gives me a certain dignity, as if I were attending a state funeral or something. People are generous in their compliments. Someday I may get up enough courage to wear it, instead of carrying it.
~ Erma Bombeck


my ally

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When it comes to young men who might be interested in my girls, I make it no secret that I am probably much more protective of my girls and their hearts than their dad. Don’t believe me? Ask Holly. Or ask those few unfortunate boys who did dare to break her heart. I’m. Not. Kidding.

No. Really.

But then again, I do give my daughters the benefit of the doubt. After all they are pretty strong, opinionated, stubborn, young women. I know a relationship with them can be…erm…well, challenging…because they’re my daughters…because they can be a lot like me…because I know I drive my darling husband crazy…a lot…all the time…for nearly thirty years. Yes, the man is a saint…a saint who still drives me to mad distraction, but still a saint. It’s then that I might advise my girls to fall in love with a guy that will treat them like their dad treats me…and them. I would advise them of that if only they would listen. Unfortunately, they can be a lot like me.

But yes, I am the one the guys must worry about if they ever break the heart of one of my girls. Ever.

Last week Jodie was invited to meet with admissions representatives from NYU. It was an invitation-only event for high school juniors who have rocked their PSAT, SAT or ACT tests. Sure Jodie is a sophomore but she still rocked the PSAT and NYU is where she wants to be…at Tisch at NYU…so of course she was all squeal-y excited about this invite. Daniel tagged along because, well, sisters and Dad were all at work so he tagged along.

The presentation was amazing, slick and shiny…with refreshments and food. Exactly what these over-achieving kids need to stir their big dreams. Yeah, I got caught up in it too…until they talked $$$. Egads! My annual salary will just barely cover the yearly tuition and housing costs…barely. I’m going to have to win the Mega Millions because there is no rich uncle anywhere. But if she were to go to there I wouldn’t have to buy a car for her. Who drives there in NYC that lives in NYC?

My mind tried to wander further down that long, winding road of (WTF!) how can we even begin to try to afford this because this was just an information gathering type meeting. We have gathered. We will sit down and discuss later. For now I had to let the girl enjoy the moment talking to a soon to be graduating senior who, surprise, went to Tisch and to the admissions rep who congratulated her on her PSAT success.

She was all shiny and happy…REALLY shiny and happy.

Perhaps that is what caught the eye of the tall, young man who came up to her to say hello. They made small talk sharing what schools they went to, what did they want to major in at NYU and other stuff. I played it cool pretending to study the glossy brochure that I was given. I’m good at that, you know….pretending to study glossy brochures while boys flirt with my daughters. Daniel, on the other hand noticed this boy right away. He looked up from his Lego Star Wars Nintendo game and studied him with narrowed eyes. He glanced over in my direction, touched my arm and gestured as if to say, “Mom! This guy! He’s talking to MY SISTER!”

I smiled at him and leaned in and whispered, “It’s okay, Buddy. He’s just saying hello.” He nodded warily and went back to watching this boy talking to his sister. I may or may not have laughed a little out loud thinking to myself that yes, I have an ally to protect my daughters’ hearts. And then I thought of my own younger brothers, who at different times did the same thing trying to protect me, my heart and my honor.

In spite of all their teasing, stinky-ness and pesky-ness, brothers rock..especially THIS brother!

wordful Wednesday: even prettier

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I make it no secret that I am in awe of my gorgeous daughters. At their current respective ages I know that I was not nearly as beautiful as they are…at least when I looked at myself in the mirror back in those days. Yet I am partly responsible for such amazing beauty times four because they are walking around with some of my DNA. But as beautiful as my girls are it is possible to make them even more beautiful thanks to the creative talents of my first born.


I can take some credit for this too I guess since as her parent I did pay for her education to make a little part of the world here in the Central Valley a more beautiful place.

In need of a hair model, she promised her sister Abby a colorful make-over. Turns out she didn’t need the hair model after all but Abby was really looking forward to the colorful makeover. So it happened, here under the Big Top, in my kitchen.

“You’re such a weirdo, Mom!“, she tells me as I take this shot. Um yeah. Sure.

Colors that call attention to how beautiful Abby is rather than to the colors themselves.

She’s happy…which makes her even prettier I think.

Wordful Wednesday is like Wordless Wednesday, only WITH words. It’s for those of us that can’t contain the chatter, but in a good way. Have something to be Wordful About this Wednesday?  Head on over to Seven Clown Circus and Parenting by Dummies to link up and share.