Twinkle Foes

Lala and Loopsy have begun the long and sure process of growing up, up and away from me.

And I feel more protective of them than ever.

The second week of school, Lala comes home and tells me she hates her new school shoes (a cute, wardrobe-staple-worthy, pair of dark brown mary janes).

I asked her why and she said that she saw a girl on the playground with those really sparkly shoes with the fun shoelaces (I knew right away she meant those god-forsaken Sketchers Twinkle Toes.  I hate them.)  

Lala told the girl she liked her sparkly shoes and the girl looked at my daughter’s mary janes and said, “Yeah, well, your shoes are like, um…”  And then walked away.

?????   I mean.  ????

5 year olds.  These are 5 year olds.  

My first instinct was to tell Lala what I really think of Twinkle Toes and all that gaudy sparkly nonsense that adorns all little girl clothes these days.  Then I wanted to tell her that the little girl was just mean and petty and she should be glad to know what kind of character she is now before she gets closer and gets more hurt.  Then, well, then I just wanted to go out and buy ever style of those goddamned shoes in size 11 and a half that exist so that my kid wouldn’t feel left out.

(I didn’t do any of those things though, I just helped Lala understand that it’s okay to let someone know that they hurt her feelings and that they can move on and still play together.  Everyone has different shoes.)

*sigh*

Who knew that I’d still be succumbing to peer pressure at the age of 38?  All because of Kindergarten footwear.

This is exhausting already.

 

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Pillow Talk and the Modern Marriage (well, My Modern Marriage, anyway)

Last Saturday morning, the hubs and I were relaxing in bed, putting off actually getting up to make breakfast for the twins, and chatting.  As marrieds do…

I rolled towards him and started rubbing his shoulder.

Hubs:  Why are your hands so hot?

Me: (pulling my hand away) I don’t know.

Hubs: I didn’t say you have to stop!

Me: (resuming running my hand on his shoulder)

Hubs: I got something a little lower you can rub!

Me: (rolling back towards the wall with a sigh)

Hubs: What?  (farts loudly)

Me: Nice…  that sounded like the last of the mustard bottle.  Did you get any on ya?

Hubs: (laughing)  That was my dick!

Me: (laughing)  What????  

Hubs:  Why can vaginas fart, but not dicks?

Me: I’m glad they don’t because men would be farting out their dicks ALL the time on purpose.  It would be chaos.

Hubs: I wish I could make mine whistle.

Me: (laughing harder)  Whistle?  Oh. My. God.

Hubs: (whistles tune of “If I Only Had a Brain” from The Wizard of Oz)

 

This is true love, Peeps.  All you singles out there with all your romantic ideas of what marriage is like, You’re Welcome.

 

 

Purity, shmurity…

Yeah, Peeps, I know shmurity isn’t a word.  The spell check is hella pissed that I keep repeating it.  And also it doesn’t like hella…

Anyway…

Y’all know I’m a huge TV junkie and one of my guilty pleasures is Sister Wives on TLC.  I usually feel pretty positive and almost inspired by the family that the Browns are building, but then something happened a few episodes ago that made me all,  “Um…  Stuff it Browns!”

They are Fundamentalist Mormons, and since moving to Vegas, have no “church” community to call their own, so they have service in their homes.  (Maybe they always did this, I don’t know…)  Kody leads the service and the moms take turns giving a speech or testimony or whatevs.  In the episode in question, Robyn decided to share the story of the biggest mistake of her life.

I was all intrigued, you guys…  Like, what could it be???  Did she shoplift?  Did she cheat on her taxes?  Did commit a hit and run?

Nope.

She “gave” her “purity” to someone before marriage, and this “surrendering” of her “virtue” resulted in a pregnancy and a decision to marry the “wrong” man.

*sigh*

Look, um, *sigh again*, um…  What?

There are just so many issues I have with this.

Firstly, she said this speech IN FRONT of the child in question as well as her other two kids who share that same father.

I saw the sadness in her daughter’s eyes.  I couldn’t believe that she just kept going on and on about it.

I am a grown woman, and I know the regret of wasting time trying to make a failing relationship work.  I know that sometimes children are involved and that makes the whole situation tougher.  But, I can’t imagine writing off the conception of any of my kids as a mistake.  I just can’t.

My parents divorced when I was 10 or so and my mother always said that she never regretted marrying my dad because she was able to have my brother and me.  She said that she’d never do anything different.  I know that marriage caused her a lot of heartache, but I also know that she loves us and values the opportunity to have brought us into this world.  I also know that despite the bad times, there was a lot of love between my parents, and my brother and I were conceived by two people who loved each other and wanted to be together.

I feel that Robyn discounting her relationship with her ex as a mistake just invalidates any joy or pride that ever existed in that previous family.  It’s sad.  So sad.  Watching that look in Robyn’s daughter’s eyes was just- ugh- gut wrenching.

I feel like Robyn’s been so “shamed” by the Fundamentalist ideals of one true, spiritual marriage that she is willing to discount any love or affection that occurred before she married Kody.  It’s sad, and short-sighted, and ludicrous.

Secondly, you guys, let’s discuss the idea of “giving” or “surrendering” your body to another person.

Well, hell…  I was brought up, or led by society, to view my virginity as a virtue as well.  To think that it was something to hoard or protect and that the longer I did so, the happier or safer I would be.  For a long time, I assumed that I would wait until marriage.

Then, a funny thing happened.  In college, long after my peers had already done so, I started a physical relationship with someone.  Kissing, making out, bumping and grinding…  All the fun stuff.  Feelings and sensations were awakened and suddenly my body and soul were really alive.  Really feeling.  And I was saddled with a philosophical dilemma.  What did it mean that I had this urge to have sex with someone I had no intention of marrying?

I was hesitant to “go all the way” and I said as much to my boyfriend.  He was kind of a jerk about it, actually, and said something like, “Don’t flatter yourself.”  And I remember being really hurt, and super frustrated that he assumed that I meant I was reluctant to “grant” him with the “prize” of my virginity.  What I meant was, I didn’t know how to handle these new desires and how they didn’t mesh with my old ideals.  I wasn’t sure what it meant.

Anyway, we didn’t talk for a while.  And during that time, I found that I missed that intimacy, and I missed being a sexual being, and that I was okay with that.  I felt that I wasn’t “losing” anything.  I felt that I was only gaining.

So, yeah, I soon forgave him and we finally did it.  A lot.  And I don’t regret it for a second.  Nor do I regret sleeping with any of the other guys I’ve slept with.  (Well, except for one, but that’s a whole other story for another time.)

Let’s move on to the word “purity”, shall we?

I will say that I don’t feel that my soul has become any less pure than it was when I was a virgin, and I’m still sure of that after sharing my sexuality with 8 lovers.  Even though I regret one of them (still not saying which), I don’t feel that encounter made me less pure or good.

Sex isn’t dirty.  It isn’t damning or darkening.  Sex is, or should be, lovely.  It’s a physical connection and expression of your humanity, your body and soul.  It’s fun, it’s kinky sometimes, romantic other times, and good.  As long as two willing partners are participating safely and willingly, it’s an amazing part of being human.

If sex makes you feel impure, you’re doing it wrong.  Look inside and make sure it’s what you really desire and that it enhances you.  Like healthy food & drink, like exercise, a good night’s sleep, meditation or prayer, sex should help you.  Never hurt you.

I hope that I can somehow pass this idea onto my daughters.  That their bodies are precious, and wonderous, and sharing them with the person of their choice, when they are ready and safe and prepared, will be marvelous.

If I can’t, then THAT would be MY biggest mistake of my life.  😉  Smurity…