Raising Palin

Raising daughters is a mega bitch -- and I mean that completely pun-free. Raising daughters who you hope become self-assured, wikkid smaht, and self-possessed Women (with a capital W, not like a GW "w") is seriously hard work, especially for a grrl like me who tends to over think her feminista-ness a tad too much. Who tends to get caught up in labels like (oh shut up) SAHM and (good God) Soccer Mom. It's hard for anyone to raise a girl, even Republicans apparently, and right now, it's not so much fun for my sister (mother of a 15 year old) or for Laggin and her heart-broken girl.

One of the first things I thought when they said "it's a girl!" was what the? because oh my god, the pressure. I mean, this tiny baby was gonna look to me for all kinds of knowledge: mascara and tampons, boyfriends and bitches, sports bras and sweat management. I could manage a few of those things, but not all, not hardly, and also, OH MY MOTHER FUCKING GOD did he just say, it's a girl?

That daughter made purses out of gym socks so she's never needed me to learn the feminine ways. (Silver linings.) (Lucky girl.) But she does need me to show her leadership and girl balls and how to not hide in the corner and how you gotta try things over and over because it doesn't matter if you're not the best the first go 'round. I am good at modeling this only about 25 percent of the time. Maybe 40 percent on a good day. Fifteen percent on bad one. Which is not to say that I am not a natural leader, because listen, since first grade they were calling me bossy, but the other crap? See what I mean about the pressure?

When they told me for a second time "it's a girl," I wasn't shocked. I figured that's what we do.

That daughter made gym socks out of purses. She fashioned belts into holsters to hold sticks swords when she was three. She hopped on a bike at four and rode it when no one was looking, because her sister was on a bike and also because WTF? it's bike, I can ride it! She needs me to show her how great it can be to be a girl and how it's not such a bad thing to use a brush and that making friends sometimes means stopping running long enough to talk to them. SEE? Fucking pressure.

I thought when they were born (less than two years apart) that they would look the same. They didn't. (All three of my kids have different colored eyes, which is pretty much karma telling me to sit down and pay attention.) I thought that they would become similar kids. They're not.

While one runs herself ragged on the soccer turf two days a week, the other trips UP the bleachers and smashes her knee. While one lays out her clothes and organizes her files, the other has gum in her hair for days without telling.

While one teaches me to listen more and realize that cool, smart girls can dance and chat and do cartwheels, the other one teaches me to let go more and realize that a strong boot and fancy foot work is not all that makes a girl. Sometimes I think my yin and yang of daughters are brought to me FOR A REASON. A reason I had nothing to do with. Which is the reason.

Because you know what? We aren't in control of the babies we birth for much longer than nine (or ten) months. After that: they are who they are and we get to scramble (for the rest of our lives?) to figure that out and make adjustments and plans that help them get all the way to where they're meant to be.

And lest you think I might let this Palin dog lie?

Shit's gonna happen. So a little more than abstinence teaching might help along the way for my girls, for all girls, and a little more than the world emerged from the finger tip of a God might help to make scientists of my kids, and a little choice in how a girl could deal with the unexpected realities of life (like say? um? ADOPTION? why not ADOPTION? that other "A" word? perhaps that's a choice a 17 year old Alaskan girl could consider) because, seriously, this raising girl stuff?

We should arm our girls with everything we know, everything everyone else knows, because hoping for the best? Expecting outcomes like you think you owned the word outcomes?

Never worked. Never will.