Love Is More Fun

I spent the morning with five other folks (at least, that we could find!) from the Washington Ethical Society in front of the Supreme Court. We were there in a sea of red, showing our support for marriage equality as the Court began hearing arguments in two cases: one on Prop 8 and the other on DOMA. I love rallies, so it was a great morning for me, and the whole first part felt like a big reunion: colleagues from a variety of faith traditions, members of other congregations I've worked with over the years, all getting together to cheer and hoot and smile at each other. Of course then the opposition came in. Or maybe we were the opposition? Anyway, a big parade of folks with "One Man + One Woman" signs marched along the street that we were lining on the sidewalk. The interaction was pretty respectful, from what I saw; lots of chanting on both sides, a little bit of singing, and all of us trying to figure out each other's signs. But what I noticed most was that my folks seemed to be having so much more fun than the other side. They were angry, or scared, or just present. We were--well, at times the mood bordered on jubiliant, although this was not a celebration of anything. We chanted about love, and all our signs had hearts on them and rainbows...and aren't love and hearts and rainbows just inherently happy? But mostly it felt as though we had won already. Now I may be an optimist, but I'm not stupid. I know that there is a long road ahead, with likely setbacks, before we see marriage equality throughout America. But as the polls shift, and the legislators have gay sons who make them realize that people just want basic rights, well, it's hard not to see where this is heading. And it's heading (in my opinion) somewhere good. The WES contingent came up with a few new chants while we were together, often in response to the signs the opposition was holding up. They speak, I think, to the sense of possibility that I felt, at least, rallying there with all my compatriots in red. "2, 4, 6, 8; Kids do best with love not hate!" "We have love, we have pride; history is on our side!" What would you be chanting? Or singing?

Who Am I, the Fashion Police?

My five year old daughter is...a creative dresser. That would be the polite way of saying it. Most of the time I'm really pretty welcoming of that creativity but every once in a while I just reach a limit. This morning, for instance. She appeared in the hallway wearing a sleeveless summer dress over a turtleneck (of course they weren't the same color, not even the same pattern), with horse-themed pajama pants underneath. In an attempt to thwart this outfit, I told her the pajama pants were too long and she couldn't wear them to school. No problem: she gathered the bottoms together and stuffed them into her socks, so that they kind of billowed out over the socks like bizarre, pink pony harem pants. So what did I do? Did I support her creative mind? Complement her on her use of color? Bite my tongue and remind myself that her individuality is important? Nope. I told her I thought the outfit looked weird. And she changed. Technically it was because she didn't like how the turtleneck fit, but I did notice she changed into a much more socially-acceptable outfit. And while part of me was pleased, the other part of me was overwhelmed with guilt. Why was I the fashion police? Her preschool doesn't care what she wears. Her friends likely wouldn't comment. Officially, our rule is "modest and seasonally appropriate" and that's it. Why did I care so much that my child looked normal...and what's normal, anyway? I don't have answers, but I'm curious about the questions. Is this about how I'm perceived by other parents? Would I feel differently if my child were a boy? What does my investment in her outfits have to do with my own internalized understanding of gender, of culture, of societal expectations? How do I balance what I see as two parts of my role: both to help her navigate society successfully, and to teach her to deconstruct and sometimes rebel from that same society? How about you--what rules do you have, or don't have, for your children's clothing choices? How about for yourself? Is allowing creativity to flourish always the highest goal? For me, the reassurance is that even though I chose society over creativity this time, I feel very confident my daughter will present me with plenty more opportunities to come down on the side of creativity!

Parenting, Museums, and Having No Goals

My family and I--that's me, husband, and two kids, ages 5 and 20 months--headed to downtown DC today for some museum hopping. We couldn't decide between Natural History and American History so (perhaps totally unwisely) we went to both. And we hadn't realized there was a marathon in DC today, so we ended up bailing out of our car early and taking the metro part of the way. The whole thing was a lesson in...having no goals. It started in the traffic, which was horrible even by DC standards. Still in the car, my husband and I furiously pecked away at our phones to try to find a clear route downtown. Finally we gave up and then had to map a route to the closest metro with parking. We got out, then had to find the elevator, then go stuck on the platform because the train was single tracked...all while increasingly stressed about all the museum time we were missing with this terrible delayed journey. Finally I looked at the kids and realized they were SO excited about the elevator and then the train, that perhaps the length of time getting down there was not such a bad thing. We finally made it down to Natural History, and started wandering around. Usually I start a museum with a map, checking off the must-see exhibits, the rotating exhibitions I don't want to miss, plotting out snacks along the way. That is not, it turns out, how a 5 year old approaches a museum. So we saw some butterflies quite briefly, a whale from the balcony only, and early humans in a very non-linear format. I was doing pretty well with my type-A self, I thought. Of course then we needed a nap, lunch, and time at American History...so we had to hustle between the two museums. My husband and I split up with the girls, and I had the 5 year old, rushing her along so we could get something to eat. But she was so slow! She wanted to look at the popcorn vendor's truck. At the tents set up on the Mall. She wanted to walk on the little riser instead of the sidewalk. But it wasn't until I snapped at her for taking too long smelling the daffodils that I realized I needed to get a grip. It's fun, really, when the universe offers you a particularly obvious message. Allowing your 5 year old to, literally, stop and smell the flowers is a good goal, I realized, just in and of itself. If it meant that we didn't see a single thing at the American History museum, it would still be a great day. So go ahead and have a goal-less day. See if you don't accomplish something even more important.