Children should be free to explore who they are and develop into wonderful, fantastic, artistic creatures – gay or straight. I would imagine that if we didn’t have society telling us that ‘boys can’t do this’ and ‘girls can’t do that’ that there’s no telling what sort of wonderful person we could become.
Now THAT’s what I’m talking about! You should visit this site. Yes, go go.
This is why this section of the blog exists.
Sam-Taylor Wood. She is good. So very good. If you don’t know her series “Crying Men,” it’s time. She directed the video above.
Photo credit: Sam-Taylor Wood
We’re back in New England.
After 4 days of sun and warmth, we landed in 36 degrees of pouring rain.
A simultaneous “WELCOME HOME!” and “FUCK YOU!”.
Oh New England, you sure do know how to make a gal want to slit her tits.
ANYWAY, here is a review of our trip through photographs:
There was the wearing of sundresses…
And the enjoyment of swimming in pools…
And the driving of big yellow golf carts…
And the catching of fish…
And the drinking of smoothies and the eating of boiled peanuts…
And the reading of books poolside…
And the watching of sea lions, and dolphins, and parrots, and sea turtles…
And the riding on airboats through the Everglades…
And the playing on beaches…
It was a good trip, indeed.
We encountered many cool critters while in Florida, including snakes and alligators and crocodiles and lizards and other creatures that make people squirmy and uncomfortable. But not, Sunny. No! She adored them all. She got to meet her Ally IRL. And she even pet a baby alligator. See below for proof.
On one excursion, we took her to a nearby petting zoo, and upon seeing Sunny, the handler brought out all the furry beasts in the room – bunnies and guinea pigs – and left the slivering, crawling variety in their tanks. Shortly after, when a herd of 2-4 year old boys galloped in the room, the handler opened all the lizard tanks. I couldn’t help put wonder if she’d just assumed (unconsciously) that the little girl would only be interested in the fuzzy, cuddly animals, and boys in the scaled and creepy reptiles. At that age, kids should be exposed to as much as possible, and certainly would have interest in both. They learn to NOT have interest when we limit their exposure based on gendered assumptions.
Le sigh.
This was then reinforced when we moved to the drawing table, and the handler hunted and hunted for a coloring page for Addison. She passed pages with snakes and alligators and spiders (all of which Sunny would have enjoyed) until she landed on a page with a butterfly. Meanwhile, the little boys were handed the pages with the reptiles and arachnids.
I doubt the handler acted intentionally in any of this. THAT is how ingrained the genderization of our behavior and treatment of children is.
Fortunately, Sunny has a daddy and a grandfather who relish in sharing all manner of creatures with her, and a mommy that doesn’t cower in fright when confronted with slimy, scaly, slithery critters. While I may not catch such animals for her to see, you won’t find me hiding in the other room or atop a table when they are in her presence. It’s a start, and a push back on the butterflies and bunnies.
Not that she shouldn’t love butterflies and bunnies equally as well as snakes and spiders, of course.
You know what the blog’s been lacking of late? A good, healthy post about poop.
I was just thinking the other day that I needed this here Sesame Seed to come into the world to provide some fecal inspired writing. What every writer yearns for, I’m sure.
I should know better than to tempt the Universe.
This afternoon, while James was out, Sunny and I buckled down and began the packing process for tomorrow’s trip to Florida. Given that she’s a great deal larger than she was last summer, I needed her to try on all of her warm-weather clothing to determine what still fit and didn’t make her look like a hobo baby. I stripped her down and proceeded to wrestle her into outfit after outfit. She’d get bored, and race out of the nursery nude, only to turn and sprint back, delighting, no doubt, in the breeze on her nethers.
There really is such freedom and joy in frollicking in the buff.
At one point, I turned my back to her in order to retrieve a stack of bathing suits. But 30 seconds later I hear, “Mommy pick up poopie.”
Very matter of fact. Clear as a bell.
I turn around to I find my naked toddler standing over a perfectly formed turd at her feet.
First thought? Given that our home is covered in Oriental rugs, at least she’d run onto the hardwood floor to perform her business. And hey! It looks fairly solid! That should wipe right up. And secondly? THANK GOD the dogs are outside.
Ah, the mindset of a parent.
While practical parental musings rolled through my head, Sunny became increasingly aware of what she had just done, and thus increasingly hysterical.
“MOMMY PICK UP POOPIE! MOMMYYYYYY PIIIIICK UUUUUUP POOOOOOPIE!!!!!!”
As tears streamed down her face, I could sense her growing shame.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy will clean it up. Why don’t we sit on the potty? It’s okay, shhh shhhh. You’re okay. Mommy’s not mad.”
She took steps toward me, and more poop began to fall.
“MOMMYYYYYY! SUNNY DIAPER! MOMMY PICK UP POOPIE! SUNNY DIAPER!!!!!!”
I scooped her up and plopped her on her potty in an effort to contain the ensuing mess.
“Hold on, sweetie. Just stay there. Mommy’s going to pick up the poopie and come wipe your bummie. Just wait a second.”
“SUNNY DIAPERRRRRR! PWEASE! SUNNY DIAPERRRRRR!”
She cried and sobbed and wailed some more. I was thoroughly convinced that I would never ever get her ass back on the seat again after this incident. Oh the trauma. But she stayed. She wept in fecal distress, but she stayed.
After swiping the poop off the floor and dumping it in the nearest toilet, I raced back over to her and stood her up preparing to clean and comfort her wounded spirit. She and I were both awed by what we were to discover beneath that poo streaked bottom…
A URINE FILLED POTTY!
“SUNNY! LOOK! YOU PEE PEED IN THE POTTY! GOOD JOB SWEETIE! WHAT A BIG GIRL! YOU PEED IN THE POTTY! YAY!!”
The look on her face as she took in her urinary success was priceless.
Her jaw dropped to the floor a la a cartoon character as she exclaimed, “SUNNY PEE IN POTTY!”
Then she stood, mouth agape, soaking up her success. After much clapping and cheering, we joyously flushed both the turd and the pee down the “Mommy Potty,” cleaned ourselves up, and celebrated with some Oreos, as any successful bathroom experience should be celebrated.
As she sat nude munching Oreos she said, “Daddy see Sunny poopie. Daddy see Sunny potty.”
Y’all, she was so proud that she wanted to share it with her daddy. See, James? THAT is why you are responsible for any future fecal encounters, to share in your daughter’s successes.
Look at those newfie mutts sunning themselves like pigs in shit.
While they delight in the epic snow piles, I curl up in flannel sheets with tubs of ice cream and gain 20 pounds of wintry-mix induced weight (which I shall promptly blame on the Sesame Seed and not my seasonal depression). They are very glad to not be joining us in the South.
Yes, that is the entrance to our home. And yes, it is photographic evidence of what motivated our impromptu trip to Key Largo first thing tomorrow morning.
One word: Escape.
