Monthly Archives: June 2010
I’m a riot, y’all!
You know what I talked about during my labour? Female genital mutilation and cultural competency in medicine. Really.
I think too much.
But I cannot help it. Asking me not to think about these things is tantamount to asking me not to breathe.
It’s because I care, deeply, about the human race.
It’s because injustice slices away at my insides leaving soul wounds that never quite heal.
It’s because it forces me to think about not only the injustices perpetrated against me, but how I am complicit in perpetrating them against others.
It’s because I’m a mother and I want my son to be free of oppression.
It’s because I’m a mother and I want my son to not be an oppressor.
So I read, and read, and read these wonderful blogs filled with the writings of very.smart.people. And then I think, and think, and think. And then I want to talk about it with someone who gets it. And I open my mouth to speak. Or I sit down to type. Then I find out that no one else seems to want to think about these things the way I do. So I think that I think too much.
Because I can’t easily laugh at that oppressive joke everyone likes to tell.
Because certain off-hand comments aren’t harmless.
I’m a riot, y’all.
Now check out some of what I’ve been thinking about lately:
What’s been on your mind lately?
A funny thing happened one summer day — I wished for Fall. Yup, I, the unabashed warm weather lover, actually wanted it to be 60-something degrees outside.
It’s a freakin’ oven here.
And that’s a pity because the weather has been beautiful lately. However, when the thermostat has reached 80 degrees before noon and the high is going to be 96 degrees then that’s just sick.
Of course this gives me the perfect excuse to stay indoors with the lovely AC on.
I did not ignore Father’s Day.
I just thought I’d be daring and original by posting about it three days after the fact.
Actually, I asked the hubby, C, to write a blog post for Father’s Day. He said yes…and promptly forgot about it.
See, it’s all his fault.
But then, Baby E and I didn’t spend Father’s Day with C after all. Baby E and I took a road trip to see a friend who’s visiting from overseas. So while I made an 8 to 9 hour round trip drive for a 6 hour visit, the hubby, C, celebrated Father’s Day on his own.
Before you go too far with your sympathy for C, please consider that he adamantly refused to go on the trip with us. In fact, while we were gone, he slept, ate leftovers, watched a movie or two, probably slept some more, and then rode his motorcycle. Yeah, his day sucked (insert dripping sarcasm).
We made it up to him though. We took him to dinner and bought him a ridiculously large margarita (because the way to a man’s heart is through his liver). It took C about an hour to drink it all.
So Happy Three Days Later Father’s Day! Maybe next year we’ll just go straight to the margarita drinking and call it tradition.