Parenting

My goal isn’t just to raise a son who can avoid the trappings of eating disorders. It’s to help him actively embrace who he is, on all levels.

We have been together for 15 years and parents for two. We've had sex at all times of the day and night. Every day of the week. Indoors and outdoors. We've played out our fantasies. And indulged our fetishes. And now it feels like it's the end of the road. I'd heard about parenthood being the death of sex, but I never subscribed to that notion. Surely that happened to the non-adventurous missionary-position-believers. Ha! But two years into this parenting thing and I would much rather sleep with my toddler than my husband.

I've noticed that some moms include some pretty wild descriptors on their Twitter profiles. While some are out-there and some are just plain boring, reading them has left me scratching my head, wondering that they would waste their 140 characters on these terms.

There used to be weekends where I would rise and have no plans for the day but to do whatever the heck I wanted. I relied on no one and no one relied on me. Yes, there are aspects of those days that I miss (especially the sleeping in), but being a mom has made me a better person and my life much more purposeful. Would I love a do-over of a weekend sans kids? Sure! But as far as my character goes, nothing can compare to the way being a mom has humbled me.

As we made our way to the back of the plane, the baby apologizing the whole way, passengers were giving us a certain look, one to which I had become accustomed to receiving when with my daughter. The one that says, How cute. I, however, was shaken. Had I really taught my daughter, all of 1½ years old, that she needs to apologize for herself? That because she was noticed — rather than slipping quietly through a space — she needed to say “I'm sorry”?

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

The conversation began again with this employee. He told us it’s pretty much impossible to avoid the violence, sex, and profanity. “It’s really the worst game out there for kids,” he told me bluntly, confirming my fears.

I’d like to think my son won his first (and only) beauty pageant because of his sparkling personality, curly mop of hair, bright blue eyes, and adorable tuxedo — but the truth is that he won because he was the only boy in the entire pageant. He won every category I entered him in, regardless of his looks, personality, or actions. He literally won just for showing up. It was the embodiment of both white and male privilege.