After questioning whether or not I wanted to write about this, I've decided to speak about the time that I feel defined me as a man going forward.
It's hard to be a woman because of how easy it is to be a man. There are just too many questions no dad should ask his stay-at-home partner. If we kept the things boys learn by age 5 that perpetuate rape culture away from boys things would be so much easier. But we don't, and, as a result, too many dads are emotionally stunted and lacking in empathy, which is why they ask all these terrible questions. These aren't important questions that convey life lessons or delve into one's family history. They're just plain insensitive. So, listen up, fathers of America: DO NOT ASK THESE QUESTIONS!
I sat on the phone with a friend; it’s 10 AM and we’re Face-timing with each other over our morning cups of coffee. She’s a hard-working, medical professional, currently living in a trend-setting major Canadian city, and I, a self-employed musician living in a seventy-five-year-old country home, in arguably one of the most rural parts of the East Coast of Canada. For just how starkly different our careers (and we) are from one another, we get along like eggs on toast.
It’s getting worse. The tension is rising. Something is going on? Something’s happened? Though I’m not sure what? You’ve changed. You sit in your armchair like a modern ‘king’ that once sat in your throne, peers to be seen and not heard and in some cases not even seen. You goad your weight around like life won’t toss you a bone. I remember your absence, not physically but mentally and emotionally. You were there somewhat unwholesome to your surroundings. What was on your mind?
As I was working on homework tonight, the swirl of emotions filled me to the point where I realized I desperately needed to work on this next part of my story. Then I realized how school, work, my photography, and my sister's wedding planning put writing on the back-burner. So, without further ado, here I go!
"They're just underhanded remarks. You don't have to respond to them, or nothing. They don't mean nothin'. You can just ignore them."
When I had my daughter, there were a lot of things people didn't tell me about having kids. I wasn't expecting everyone to mommy-shame me. I wasn't expecting everyone to forget I existed as a human being, or for everyone to forget that a mom's needs matter, too.
My mother was a dreamy ten year old — smart and precocious. She hated her given name, Sandra, because kids pronounced it either Sanndra or Sahndra. Both of which drove her nuts.
The sight out my bedroom that morning looked spectacular. The sun was just beginning to rise and the sky was a soft orange hue, flecked here and there with yellow and blue paint streaks, like pastel colors or my favorite crayon set strewn across the cosmos. I smiled looking out, and excitedly thought about how it was the perfect day to go on an adventure—at least so I thought.
Our biggest source of advice and warning comes from our parents but especially our mothers. However, sometimes we don't always appreciate the things they are telling us at the time or just don't see how they are relevant to you because your mum was never your age, right?