“So? What are you having?”
Throughout my pregnancy, that was the number one question I received, tied only with: “How are you feeling?” At first I was polite about it, telling folks that it was too early to tell, but that we weren’t finding out anyway until the birth. After I passed 20 weeks, I attempted to answer all the Nosy Nellies as diplomatically as I could. I said that we would be happy with either a boy or girl, as long as the baby was healthy. Yet as my belly expanded, my patience shrank and I found myself coming up with more creative ways to answer the increasingly frequent queries over “what” we were having. “Fingers crossed it’s not a kitten!” was one of my favorite go-to replies.
And, for those keeping track – no, we did not have a kitten, but rather a beautiful baby boy. Still, the questions kept coming. Since we didn’t know if we were having a boy or girl (and because, you know, colors are for everyone), my son wore a rainbow of onesies, which only seemed to confuse folks. Multiple times a day I would have people question why my son was wearing purple. Or pink. Or even yellow. I did not get the same stares or questions when he donned his blue, green or brown onesies. Our society, one that is heavily entrenched in traditional, stereotypical gender roles, seems to want to plug children into these boxes as quickly as possible — even before they’re born — and that can be both frustrating and confusing. Keep reading »
Plenty of women decide early on that having children is not for them, while others realize later on that their lifestyle will not allow for the time, money, and commitment that raising a child demands. A new study, however, shows that the decision to not have children may have a lot to do with something else — a woman’s IQ. Keep reading »
I’ve known for most of my life that I didn’t want to have kids, although I didn’t know or use the word “childfree” until I was in my 20s. For a while, it was easy to be childfree. My peers were also young, single, career-focused, and not worried about meeting The One, let alone procreating with The One.
Then I turned 30. Now that my friends are partnering off and starting to have kids, the way that I configure my childfree identity has changed. I still firmly believe that I don’t want children and am actively planning not to have any. But the way I talk about my choice with other people has definitely changed. Being childfree is definitely different in your 30s than it is in your 20s. Keep reading »
Puberty is rough — rougher still when you ignore your mother’s warnings to stop wiping jizz on her nice bathroom towels. If this Redditor’s 13-year-old son doesn’t start depositing his spank bank splooge into tissues soon, he’s going to find his bedroom redecorated with Justin Bieber towels and My Little Pony decor. Way harsh, Mom. [HyperVocal]
Have a young girl in your life? Then here’s a blog post that you’ll want to email to her parent right now. Houston Press writer Jef With One F was appalled by all the garbage he had been reading online about the pro-abstinence “purity” movement, which teaches girls and young women they are only “pure” if they are virgins and that their fathers should be guardians of their sexuality until that responsibility is handed over to their future husband. It’s creepy, it’s heteronormative, and it’s paternalistic as hell. Oh, and it doesn’t work anyway! So Jef With One F wrote up this great listicle, “10 Things I Plan To Tell My Daughter ABout Sex That Aren’t Purity Movement Crap,” which is everything your daughters (and sons!) should hear instead, like:
You cannot be “ruined,” by an act. You can only be ruined if you let shame and self-loathing consume you, and even then there is always a path back into the light. This goes double for someone trying to convince you sex is evil. That person was either hurt badly or seriously misled.
Damn straight. Check out the whole piece for the best fatherly sex advice you can find. [Houston Press] [Image of father and daughter via Shutterstock]
I think I’m a decent aunt. Not so good at remembering birthdays, admittedly, but what I lack in presents-giving, I make up for in lots of facetime. We play all kinds of games — usually “doctor,” in which I pretend to have some terrible malady wrought by a zoo animal (“Help! A hippopotamus bit my leg off!”) and they wrap toilet paper (“bandages”) around me pretending to fix it. Either we do that, or we play Barbies.
Usually my nieces’ Barbie dolls are going to a ball to meet a prince. It doesn’t matter if she’s Color-Change Mermaid Barbie or I Can Be USA President Barbie. She is always going to a ball to meet a prince. Sometimes directly after the ball, she and the prince get married. So, last weekend when I was babysitting, I tried to set the tone for something different. Keep reading »