Family

Permission to be a Woman

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Over the weekend, I went to a family gathering and met a couple and their daughter for the first time. While sitting at the table conversing, their 8-year-old little girl came from upstairs to tell her parents the other girls she was playing with were not being nice to her, saying things like they didn’t want to be her friend anymore and then she began crying when she said one of the girls had slapped her. Errr! Put the needle back on the record!

I was sitting next to the mother hearing bits and pieces of the discussion and what really threw me overboard was when the girl’s father, who seemed uncomfortable with her crying, asked her, “Well, did it hurt?” I thought, “What?!” Was he insinuating, “If it didn’t hurt enough or leave a mark on you, then hush up and take it like a man.” Was this his idea of tough love? I didn’t hear if the mother said anything about the slap, but that comment didn’t sound good to me. I don’t believe they didn’t care about their daughter, but it didn’t appear that they took her negative experience seriously.

I’m reminded of a friend who shared with me and a few others how she cries too easily and feels weak when it happens in front of her kids and husband, but she says she can’t help it, it’s just how she is. Another friend sitting next to her said, “Oh, that makes me feel so much better, because I am the SAME way! I cry so easily too and hate it.” That same friend brought up crying on another occasion and asked me, “When was the last time you cried?” I went blank. You see, I have trouble crying. I feel the emotions building up within me and wanting to burst out like a volcano, but throughout my life, I had experiences like the 8-year-old little girl and learned to tame my emotions to a flaw. It’s even affected me when it comes to showing excitement at times. I feel this blockage. I base my reaction on logic versus emotion in most instances.

When I heard Eve Ensler of The Vagina Monologues once say, “We are emotional creatures,” I was relieved beyond belief. It was the first time someone had validated my nature. Somewhere along the way, I became a victim to the myriad messages I heard in times of extreme vulnerability telling me to be strong, tough it out, to save it for later, hold it in, don’t start, not now, I don’t want to hear it, suck it up, and the times my tears were questioned. I was being questioned for just being…a girl.

Here’s what Eve Ensler thinks about being a girl:

I think the whole world essentially has been brought up NOT to be a girl. To be a boy really means NOT to be a girl. To be a man means NOT to be a girl. To be a woman means NOT to be a girl. To be strong means NOT to be a girl. To be a leader means NOT to be a girl. I actually think that being a girl is so powerful that we’ve had to train everyone NOT to be that.

We come into this world crying; it’s how the doctor stimulates us to confirm that we are alive. But once we leave, we are encouraged for the rest of our lives to repress our tears, our emotions, hence our very nature. Being an emotional creature is the very essence of being a woman. I would be a man otherwise! I’ll admit that I have been much more in touch with my masculine side than my feminine side for a long time. It’s a form of self-preservation and protection and has served me well, but I am trying to find balance and embrace the more vulnerable aspects of myself.

Thankfully, becoming a mother to two boys has helped me release my tears easier. It happens at unexpected moments, like when my oldest took a ride on his first bike and called out to everyone standing watch to see what he was doing. I was filled with such joy that the tears just flowed and felt good. My husband is a wonderful example of an emotional creature who happens to be a man.:) Tears flowed from his eyes before he could get the words out of his mouth the day he said he was in love with me. I remember wiping all the tears from his cheeks. I can’t help to think life paired us together for a good reason. I wouldn’t doubt it. There are so many opportunities to learn a new way to be, to reverse the blocked pathways in my memory so pure emotions can flow once again. And I’m open…open to them all. I admire tears and vulnerability and humility. I want to experience it all with abandon myself. I want to make it a life long practice.

Quote taken from Eve Ensler’s Embrace Your Inner Girl talk on Ted.com.

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The Convivial Asshole

Over the weekend, I took my son to get his hair cut and got to talking with a man who was waiting to do the same with his two kids. He was a fit man with salt and pepper hair, stylishly dressed in khaki shorts and sandals, possibly in his late thirties.

Our young ones began coloring together, so Fit Dad and I chatted about raising boys and girls. He mentioned how he’d noticed an immediate difference when his daughter was born, how she set the tone for that gender distinction. Referring to their nature, he put it simply,

“Boys have physical needs and girls emotional ones.”

DING! I heard a light bulb go off in my head. Ain’t that the truth? Boys have the need for rough play, sports, action movies, sound effects and (shhh) S-E-X while girls need to talk, relate, connect, be made to feel special, protected, and especially need to be heard. Hello! Raising my hand here. It’s a must.

At one point in the conversation, one of the hairdressers was finishing up with a client, so Fit Dad stopped in mid-sentence and called out to her, saying, “Do you think we’ll be outta here in the next ten minutes?” She looked confused and slightly offended that he appeared to be rushing her. “You told me it’d be 20 minutes and it’s now been 35 minutes. We have somewhere to be,” he continued. The stylists glanced at each other, then returned to their scissors, customers hid behind their magazines, and I kicked back to enjoy the show.

We continued talking and it turned out Fit Dad was from Austin, Texas and it’s no surprise to me that his face lit up when I asked him, “So, how was it growing up there?” He had nothing but great things to say and I was intrigued to continue the conversation, but we were interrupted when the stylist called his number. He shuffled his son over and began telling her how he wanted his son’s hair cut, pointing to particular areas around his head to communicate his request.

When I heard and saw this man taking charge of the situation, you better believe he had my attention. My eyes remained fixed on him as I thought, Those ladies probably think he’s being an asshole. The others waiting probably think so too, but he doesn’t give a shit. As a straight shooter myself, I appreciated him for his ways. I was convinced that this man was “The Man” at home and at work, because he didn’t mince words.

He spoke with authority, was straight to the point and non-apologetic about it. I liked that, liked it a lot; in fact, it made me all tingly inside. Now now, before you get ahead of yourself, here’s why. I’m a gal who respects people who give it to me straight, who are real, to the point.

Such conversations call me, lure me, tickle my fanny.

Being frank is my best form of communication and many times, I’ve been made to feel bad about this strength (YES, it’s a strength because its me at my strongest) and I’ll admit to playing small at times and holding back my true kaboom for the sake of someone else’s weakness.

In a non-convivial world, it’s being bitchy, bossy, unappealing, worth ignoring. It’s where women aren’t encouraged to be loose with their tongue and therefore inadvertently try to avoid it to appease and please. Fuck that. We’ve got a lot to say.

In my world, speaking out means freedom.

There’s a great sense of confidence that accompanies one’s ability to be assertive. It takes time and guts to come as you are and not care what people think.

When all is said and done, that’s exactly how you get what you want in life. That’s how you get the life you want. It takes practice, faith in yourself, and permission. Who’s doing the permitting? You are! So go ahead and permit it, want it, speak it, live it.

Cheers to a great day of telling it like it is,

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What’s the Occasion?

Last night, I made a Ricotta Orange Pound Cake with Strawberries courtesy of the recipe by Food Network star, Giada De Laurentiis. Eager to share this experience, I decided to invite my parents over to enjoy cake and ice cream with my family. Sounds like a party! Indeed, it was. So, what was the occasion? Life. Plain and simple, I had a craving for something sweet, had all the tools and ingredients to create it, along with the best of intentions and love, so I didn’t hesitate to get my hands a little dirty. I took my time, followed instructions, and had faith that my efforts would pay off. And they did! Something as basic as my desire to bake turned into a deeper desire to “break bread” with the people I love. Now, that is an occasion to live for and the very essence of convivial living. It’s merry-making, having a fondness of feasting, drinking, and good company. That was my intention, and therefore my experience last night with the two people who gave me life, as well as the man and two sons who I love and with whom I share every bit of my world. Life is meant to be a convivial occasion, so the next time you think you need a specific reason to have a good time, think again. The occasion is your life and everyone in it. That’s reason enough to put on your convivial party dress (or apron) and get convivial with it!

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Embracing My Inner Girl

I have rebelled against being a girl. Yes, ME. I’ve rejected my tears, held back my emotions, my sorrow, my uncertainty, even my excitement, all for fear of appearing weak or too girly. I’ve tried to avoid conflict, tried being nice girl with mean girls, made every attempt to keep me together during the most troubling of times. And for what reason? Because someone told me to do so? Someone being society, family, culture. Thoughts and behaviors passed on from dear mother and other influences have had their initial effect on my potential to break norms and cross barriers, but thankfully I love myself enough to put a stop to the limitations and be true to me, finally. My southern-raised-conservative-thinking-fist-swinging-mama had a good grip on my thoughts and controlled a lot of the actions I took early in life, but in retrospect, I don’t regret being a good daughter. I’m a woman with a huge will to live and my mother gave me the attitude and temperament needed to cause a revolution. For the most part, I was playing a role for my family, for society, for love, but ultimately, I’m feisty and violently happy and ready to be me. I have no qualms about speaking up in defense of my dreams, personal space, body, privacy and beliefs when they are attempted to be denied, discouraged, disregarded or disrespected. Up to this point, I’ve been encouraged to hold back my nature, keep my mouth shut, avoid rocking myriad boats, to avoid being authentic and living for me. It’s crazy to know what your power is and be conditioned to tame it or hide it altogether. I’m fully capable of capsizing some boats and thanks to a recent TED talk by creator of The Vagina Monologues, Eve Ensler , I may be cured of my willingness to hold back that emotional creature within me. I’m going to give this idea of embracing my inner girl a go, let her run rampant, and won’t worry about whether her behavior is lady-like or not. She deserves to be heard, to be seen, to be known…dammit, let the girl just be! I hope the video helps to re-ignite the female flame that burns deep within your emotional center. Embrace your inner girl and give her the dance floor AND spotlight she deserves.

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A Convivial Sense of Security

A man walks into the doctor’s office carrying his daughter who was about ten years old and took a seat next to me. Glancing over at the young girl in his arms, I saw scraped knees and additional bruising and cuts on her knuckles and imagined a pretty good fall had occurred. After seeing her wounds, I met eyes with the girl and saw her bruised spirit as tears began to well up in her eyes. Her eyes communicated a girl who was hurt, vulnerable and fragile. And now, here she was cradled in her Daddy’s strong arms. It seemed all was going to be just fine.

I wondered what that did for her soul, for the future woman in her.

Instantly, I was transported back to a rare moment when I found myself in my own father’s embrace. I was about four years old and attending a church service for a family friend’s brother who had passed away. I had fallen asleep and my father picked me up to carry me out of the church. I remember waking up to see our friend’s son looking up at me. I pretended I was still asleep and rested my head back on my father’s shoulder.

I recall the feeling of security I got in my Dad’s arms. I felt protected, cared for. The memory makes me realize how important it is for a young girl to experience a father’s love and the security that comes with that love. Nothing is perfect, but there is a dynamic between father and daughter that sets the tone for how a girl may feel about herself and conduct herself in relationships with men later on in life. Many girls nowadays are growing up without the experience of a father’s love and it is my conclusion that this is a key factor as to why many women are giving away so much of their power in male/female relationships.

We have so much value and power yet so many of us women don’t realize it.

And when we do know, there are moments when we can forget. When that happens, it shows in our behavior, in our relationships, in our appearance, in our homes, in our families, in the decisions we make and most importantly, the decisions we don’t make. It shows in the ways we look for love.

In January 2008, I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting Michael J. Lockwood, author of the book Women Have All The Power, Too Bad They Don’t Know It, and I want to share something he said that stayed with me after our meeting:

Women are a prize to be won.

It’s one thing to say it, and hear it, but how many of us believe it? Demonstrate it in our actions? In the way we teach people to treat us? To value our wants? Our time? In order to be the change you wish to see in your world…it starts with believing you are a prize and finding security in that belief.

But it doesn’t end there. You must then go out and…

Live according to that belief,

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Stop Being A Baby

“Stop being a baby!” We’re all very familiar and personally acquainted with that message. We’ve heard it as a baby from our parents because they wanted us to “act right” versus “act out.” And we continue to tell ourselves the same thing as adults when things don’t go our way. But at what point in our lives do we ever stop being a baby? NEVER. We will always have our moments where we need to whine, vent, cry, let it out, act out…so here’s your reminder, because you know you need it:

BE A DAMN BABY.Don’t be afraid to act out your true emotions. Let yourself be a baby. And THEN, just as babies do, GET OVER IT. Move on. Find a new distraction. Find a new task. Find a new pleasure. Have some new fun. Find your happiness again. BE A BABY.

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The First Gift

On the way to San Miguel de Allende, my husband and I met a man named Bruce who lived in San Miguel with his wife, Jennifer and two-year-old son, Blaze. First of all, what a cool name for a kid! Second, the parents were even cooler.

There was an instant connection with Bruce and my hubby, so they exchanged numbers and we met up for breakfast a few days later. We were going to eat at Buena Vida Cafe across from Bellas Artes, but they were closed for construction, then headed to La Parroquia Cafe nextdoor to El Tecolote Bookstore and the same story, so we ended up at El Pegaso Restaurant and Bar located on Calle Correo.

I felt just as comfortable with Jennifer as Martin did with Bruce, so the conversation was on! Of course, Martin and I were so curious to hear about how this American couple with a nice, big American baby made the journey to this foreign colonial town to live life. The journey started with just the two of them wanting to visit San Miguel de Allende to learn Spanish and the bigger decision to make a life there was as simple as a moment when Bruce and Jennifer,(newlyweds then) were sitting on a bench at the Jardin, and Bruce turned to Jennifer to say, “Just get me here, ” and Jennifer replied, “Okay. ” It’s been three years since that fateful moment.

In between a few bites of my delicious breakfast of Chilaquiles Verdes, Bruce said something that stayed with me.
In discussing their life raising Blaze in San Miguel, he said, “This is our first gift to our son…dual citizenship in two countries, learning two languages, and being immersed in two cultures so opposite from another.” What a broader sense of the world he will start off with all thanks to a conscious choice his parents made for him.

Martin was able to see how happy they were living in his hometown and he said, “I’ll be honest with you two…I’m jealous,” and that’s when I lovingly interjected and said, “Don’t be jealous, join the club!”

I admire this couple’s courage to try something different, to step outside their comfort zone and give something so unfamiliar a shot.

There are so many choices on how we can live our lives; our kids have little say in the beginning stages of their lives, so considering the benefits they will reap from the conscious choices we make on a daily basis is undeniably courageous and admirable.

Choose wisely.

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Stealing Time

Before I became a mother, I still felt the need to be in many places and serve in many roles for many people, but one thing that I know I’ve always had a strong sense to do is to be there for myself, to make time for me, to love myself in such a way as to make time for my wants, my interests, my needs, etc. Fortunately, I learned at a young age that no one else would do it for me.

As a teenager, I began to travel independent of my parents and never felt homesick. I was on my own and loved the feeling of freedom. Not that my home life was so restrictive, but I just felt this need to be out in the world, running away with the caretaker man, what have you. I knew that when I became a wife, that sense of freedom would not change. My husband would respect my need for independence and space to pursue my interests. Life has certainly brought such a man into my life as well as such experiences. Before I became a mother, I knew that my time would become more important. My child would require my time and attention and I would certainly do my best to make the choices necessary to offer as much of it as possible. I think I have done a pretty good job up to this point and am confident I will only get better with more time and experience as a parent. But before my son came into my life, I told myself that my sense of freedom to be me, to continue learning more about myself and the world and my place in it would not stop just because I now had more responsibilities at home and with family. I would take the time needed for myself when the time came. Guess what? The time has come. I am a wife, a mother, and still an individual woman.

Steal some time away for yourself…there are wonders in the world ready to caress your soul. Being a thief isn’t bad, especially if it causes your heart to slow to a calm beat.

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