girls taking up space

I've got this girl who is indeed loud and sometimes gross, and she definitely takes up space. At 11, she's too young to use the boyfriend excuse, but I'd like to think that her NOs will continue to be as loud as they are unapologetic. She is sarcastic, in ways I'm only beginning to discover. She's got a band of girl friends whom she guards with fierce love and devotion.

Of course, time changes kids into teenagers, and with those changes come a backing off for many girls. My sincerest hope, though, is that time and hormones won't change my girl too much. She is a force.

Two Christmases ago, she decided to sign up to be one of the two centurions in our church's Christmas pageant. I thought it was interesting, and I was just glad that she finally wanted a speaking role. She explained later that she took the role because no other girl had done it; she really wasn't all that interested in the armour, sword, or even the lines. I frankly had not noticed that no girl had done the role before. This past Christmas, another girl put her hand up for centurion. I'd like to think that Boo had something to do with that.

She's also the kind of girl who reads books geared to boys because she thinks it's ridiculous that they are marketed at only one gender. One of the books on her shelf is For Boys Only, sitting next to Lumberjanes. She explained she needed me to order the book from the Scholastic catalogue because if it was for boys only; she needed to know the things that they were learning, so that it wouldn't be just for boys anymore. I couldn't argue with that, and I forked over my first Scholastic cheque in years.

This girl has grown up in a time where women can make more money than their male partners without it being an issue, where men share in daily chores, where gay marriage is a given, where gender is more fluid than it has ever been. And yet she is able to perceive the continued, ingrained gendered roles that I, as a feminist, have not noticed or stopped noticing.

So as annoying as the loudness can be, as vexing as the clear NOs are, I'm glad she is who she is. She can keep kicking at the walls of the boxes that many of us no longer see.

pieces of me

Tis the season of summer camps and sending kids off. It marks a reprieve for parents from the everyday madness, business, tiredness, and overwhelming responsibility of children. It allows parents to celebrate the kids being away.

Except for the divorced parents. At least, except for me.

I only get to see my kids 50 percent of the time. That gives me tons of me time, tons of time with friends, tons of guilt-free late hours at work, tons of kid-free errands. In a way, it's great. My parent self is well-rested and far more patient than I'd ever been as a 100 percent-of-the-time mom.

Here's the thing, though: I miss my kids like crazy in the summer. I get three straight weeks with them, which is AMAZING. But then, they are off to be with their dad, for three straight weeks. Then away at camp for another week. Then some time with grandparents. I now have long evenings of Netflix, knitting, catching up with friends, reading - whatever I want. It sounds like a dream to most parents, but it isn't always.

Some evenings, like tonight, I ache for my girls. At 11 and 13, they still like to hug and to cuddle. I still tuck them in and snuggle up before bed. We still hold hands - intermittently - when we go for walks or run errands. I miss all of that. And their goofiness. Oh my goodness, the laughs we have.

They are not easy all of the time, and we have our struggles, moodiness, disagreements, and squabbles. But I even miss that.

I'd always wanted to be a mom, but I never imagined what a big part of me my children could be. And what a big part of me they take with them when they are away.