#weekendwanderings My Legacy I’ve recently…

#weekendwanderings

My Legacy

I’ve recently devoured the first season of Amazon’s new series, ” Z: The Beginning of Everything.” I finished the season in one day ,(okay, I admit it, I spent the day bingeing), and was inspired to order the book, authored by Therese Anne Fowler, that the series is based on.

Watching the show’s portrayal of Zelda and F. Scott and their legacy got me wondering; how will I be remembered? What will I be remembered for, will I even have a legacy to be remembered by? I’d like to think my writing will live on in infamy, with my (someday) masterpiece living on forever and inspiring countless readers; old and young, male and female, rich and poor. But what if my masterpiece never comes to be? What will my legacy be then?

Thinking about this, I’ve come to realize that I hope I’m remembered first, (even above my maybe masterpiece), as a wonderfully caring, loving, thoughful, and dedicated mother. While writing is an important factor in my life, nothing has, nor will ever, come before my child. I’ve never known a love like I have for him, and I never will again. In short, nothing can compare to the love, joy, and inspiration that being his mother has brought me, and I hope I have made these feelings abundantly clear each day of my life.

Inarguably, it would be nice to be remembered for being brilliant, generous, thoughtful, beautiful, fun, fearless, and creative. To leave a legacy in the form of a great novel or piece of poetry would be an accomplishment of a lifetime. However, being a mother has been the most wonderful and rewarding accomplishment of my life and I hope I’m remembered for doing this job I so value well.

WordPress: http://perfectlyimperfect32com.blog/

An Accidental Feminist?

I did not march yesterday. I wasn’t one of the crowd that amassed the inaugural crowd by roughly three times (New York Times). Instead, I split the day between home and running errands with my son, followed by dinner at a friends’ house, where our children played as we chatted and talked about many things, including The Women’s March.

My friend didn’t march either. You see both of us are past our “marching days.”We’re older. We both have children, husbands, and households to run. We’re both well-educated and I’d be willing to argue that neither of us feels inferior to any man we know. We’re strong, confident women. Though we didn’t march we both expressed support and awe over the crowds that gathered. How amazing it was to see so many women (many with the support of their husbands, boyfriends, brothers, and children) from all different walks of life, united together in an effort to peacefully exercise their Constitutional Rights! While we may not have marched, we were proud of our fellow women. But we were too busy to march. We had too many responsibilities. Our children had activities yesterday and my husband (a chef) works weekends, so it was up to me to make sure my son made it to his event. My friend? She’s a Rock Star Mom of four and her husband is out-of-state, so she surely couldn’t take any time away from her kiddos to March. No, we had too much to do…

As I scrolled through my NewsFeed today I liked all posts March related. I read many wonderful articles, and remained proud of our country. Then I started noticing a disturbing trend. Why were so many women spewing anti Women’s March hate all over the internet? I was shocked. As I continued to scroll the alarming trend continued, making less and less sense to me. I read posts from women claiming that only “libtard women” (I’m not even sure what a libtard woman is) showed up to march. These comments were made worse only by women “LoLing” at men who commented,”As long as she made breakfast before she left then no harm done! LOL.” How could anybody, much less any woman Laugh Out Loud at such a flagrant display of gross sexism? Where was the outrage? Finally, why were women being so hard on each other rather than lifting one and other up in love and support? Where’s the unity so beautifully displayed at the Women’s March?

No matter where you fall on the political spectrum and whether or not you fancy yourself a feminist, few things are factual; hard and true. Please allow me to introduce the wage gap:

Women, on average, earn less than men in virtually every single occupation for which there is sufficient earnings data for both men and womento calculate an earnings ratio. (www.iwpr.org/initiatives/pay-equity-and-discrimination).

Again I ask, where is the outrage?

Continuing to read articles throughout the day I came across another sad statistic,

Women today are more likely than men to complete college and attend graduate school, and make up nearly half of the country’s total workforce.Yet past gaps in education and experience appear to be contributing to a persistent pay gap between the sexes, a new report shows.(http://www.usnews.com/news/blogs/data-mine/2014/10/31/women-more-likely-to-graduate-college-but-still-earn-less-than-men)

Then I wonder, maybe I should’ve made the time yesterday…

Another online Wall Post assaulted my senses, haunting me for the remainder of the day,

“I’m all for free speech, but this march was just stupid. A level of hypocrisy that’s just astounding. She sounds like the crazy in crowd at the Salem witch hunts. They make me ashamed of my gender actually. Nasty indeed!” (Name Withheld)

Perhaps I misunderstood these women’s comments? There was just no way I could bring myself to believe any woman would berate, demoralize, or defame another woman for simply asserting her right to stand up for her beliefs. Maybe the women leaving such vile internet commentary simply aren’t offended by the wage gap? Surely these women aren’t aware of the shocking sexual assault statistics reported last year. Those statistic would undoubtedly shock these women straight, right? I hoped so…

Women. 1 out of every 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime (14.8% completed rape; 2.8% attempted rape). 17.7 million American women have been victims of attempted or completed rape. 9 of every 10 rape victims were female in 2003. (https://rainn.org/get-information/statistics/sexual-assault-victims).

Surely these women wouldn’t be making such terrible comments if they knew these facts I told myself. One in six women is a huge statistic. Using that statistic, every woman in The United States of America knows a woman who will be or has already been the victim of a sexual assault. I so badly want to illustrate this point to the anti Women’s March Internet Crusaders. The one in six that falls victim to sexual assault could be anyone: your daughter, your mother, your wife, your sister, or your best friend. In this situation, the cyber bullies are at risk themselves. That’s right, simply being a women yields each of these women vulnerable to a sexual assault. For the record,

One in thirty-three men will be raped annually in The United States. (https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence). That’s right, a woman is nearly four times more likely to be a victim of sexual assault in her lifetime than a man.

Reaching my boiling point, I finally shut down my laptop and walked away from my cell phone. Sitting with both my feelings and thoughts for a good while, I really allowed myself to feel exactly what and how I was feeling; to absorb it all. I came to a few very important conclusions during my reflections. Perhaps the most important realization for me was the moment I realized that women like my friend and myself are the exact women that needed to be at that March. Strong, smart, confident women are the foundation of so many infrastructures around the world. From raising families to running corporations, women like my friend and myself rise up everyday and strive to do better than the day before.Constantly putting everyone before ourselves, we work long, hard days to ensure our families are well cared for. It becomes dangerous when we grow too comfortable in our day-to-day, forgetting how easily and all too frequently our gender can be marginalized.

Finally, I realized how important it is for my son to see me using my voice to advocate for something that I truly believe in. It became clear to me how important it is for me to show my eight year old little boy that his mother (and all women alike) is strong, smart, capable, and worthy of respect every single day, in every single situation, no questions asked. I now know how very critical it is that I continue to instill the virtues of love, tolerance, and honesty in my sonso that he will grow into a tolerant, peaceful, respectful, and respectable young man. I will make it my mission to ensure my son is prepared for adulthood, equipped with grace and love. In these uncertain times, peace, love, and tolerance will go further than one may think. And next time, I’ll be Marching proud, with my son by my side.

WordPress:

#dailydiscussions “Woman vs. Woman” Some…

#dailydiscussions

“Woman vs. Woman”

Some criticism is good and productive; such as constructive criticism. However, more so than not criticism is negative.

Women are the worst offenders. We are our own worst critics, incessantly criticizing ourselves. Constantly doubting ourselves, second guessing ourselves, and criticizing every thing we do.

Why do we do this to ourselves, though? Perhaps we are raised to strive for perfection; perfect mothers, wives, professionals, all the while looking perfect?

What benefit does this constant criticism accomplish? No amount of criticism will make us better mothers, wifes, professionals, or fashionistas.

What will make us whole is believing in ourselves. We need to realize that we are enough. We’re great mothers, wives, professionals, and we do it all while managing to look pretty damn good!

WordPress:

Connect24…7

Tags, handles, usernames,

We have them all.

Text messages, emails, and video-chats,

We dare not risk disconnection.

Flooded with news,

Real vs Fake.

Sharing secretly captured screenshots and murky far away photographs,

We’re flooded with images we never needed to see.

The World Wide Web makes the world a smaller place.

But is it safe to brush off

Privacy

So easily?

WordPress: <a href="http://“>

The Town She Used to Know

“She must not be from around these parts,” they whispered, mouths agape as she entered the room with a confident grace, holding hostage the attention of anyone who dared look her way.

“I think she is.”

” I heard that she went away to the city for college.”

“I heard that she divorced a rich old man, has a pile ‘o money now.”

“Ssshhhh….”

A hush came over the room as her scarlet stained lips parted.

Would she speak?

What would she say?

Who would she talk to?

With the eyes of the room upon her,

She lifted a cigarette to her mouth .

Amused by the attention,

She leaned into the nearest gentlemen, close enough to

Smell his musk

and

Feel his hot breath.

“Excuse me,” she spoke!

“Might you have a light?” she teased, smirking.

Cigarette now tracing her crimson pout back and forth,

Allowing the tiniest bit of bright white to shine through as she coyly smiled.

“Sssshhure.” He stuttered back, lifting his shaking hand to light the cigarette.

“You’d think with this pile ‘o money I got in the divorce I’d at least have my own light!” she exclaimed as she slowly exited the silent room, staring intently at the people of the town she used to know.

Remaining a mystery,

She was exquisite.

“The Town She Used to Know” – https://perfectlyimperfect32wordpresscom.wordpress.com/2017/01/16/the-town-she-used-to-know/

WordPress – https://perfectlyimperfect32wordpresscom.wordpress.com/

Parenting

Last weekend a severe snowstorm was forecast. Early last week, well before the storm was due to arrive, all of our local meteorologists had us under “Winter Weather Advisories and Warnings” and started round the clock storm coverage. The ravaged bread shelves and run on milk at our local market proved a storm was on its way to anyone who managed to evade the never-ending news coverage of the storm.

As predicted, late Friday night and all day Saturday, we were pounded with freezing cold gusty wind and inches upon inches of snow. Too cold to even let the kids go out and play in the snow, we were officially snowed in. I wasn’t worried about being snowed in, not by a long shot. A native Bostonian, I’ve long known how to handle a good old-fashioned snow storm, be it a dusting, blizzard, or even a Nor’Easter. My eight year son, Jack, loves the snow and he, too, is well versed in all things Winter. We were ready. Or so I thought.

Severe as the storm was, my husband even got the day off on Saturday! This almost never happens so Jack took full advantage of having Dad home and the two of them spent the day watching movies, reading comics, and playing video games together. Jack briefly joined Dad while he shovelled, but the elements were too much for our little guy and he was back inside with a warm cup of cocoa in no time.

By the time we woke up Sunday morning we were covered in a beautiful coat of snow so pure only Snow White could have rivaled its beauty and purity. Having spent the day before literally snowed in, Jack was eager to get outside and enjoy the snow. His main objective for Sunday was to hit up our local sledding spot and do some damage to the freshly fallen powder. I was happy to make this happen for him until I checked the weather and the temperature read 9 degrees, with a windchill below zero. Further destroying Jack’s Sunday Sledding Dreams was a call from my husband who advised me of extreme cold and treacherous road conditions. Alas, we weren’t going anywhere.

While I knew Jack would be disappointed, I wasn’t too concerned. Christmas was just two weeks ago and Jack received many wonderfully thoughtful and generous gifts. Santa, family, friends, and his parent’s (my husband and I, us!) were very good to Jack. Amongst other things, I figured Jack could easily entertain himself with his new lap top computer, GoPro Camera, the latest FiFa video game, or even start reading the latest hard cover edition of Harry Potter which he asked Santa for and expressed pure delight in when he opened it! Boy was I in for a rude awakening.

By 11:00AM Jack was incessantly complaining of boredom. As a mother to a little boy, I understand his need to be outside, to run, and play, and be free. Jack has always been that type of little boy. He loves being outside playing and makes friends with most any child he comes in contact with. So Jack’s initial complaint of boredom didn’t surprise me much at all. What did surprise me was his persistent complaining, unwillingness to take any suggestions as a means of self entertainment, and blatant disregard for every toy, book, or piece of technology he had access to in order to entertain himself.

As the day dragged, Jack’s complaining only got worse. Soon my reaction shifted from surprised to annoyed and finally to disappointed. Despite my attempts at both physically (handing him his lap top, a deck of cards, his iPad, a board game, a book) and verbally offering Jack options, he chose to do nothing. Instead, he moped around the house all day whining and complaining. While I’m sure my final mood was disappointment, I’m not sure if it was in Jack’s decision to not make a choice that would satisfy his boredom, or in myself. I sat thinking about all of the thought, planning, preparation, excitement, and money that went into making his Christmas special. Not just by us, but by everyone who was kind enough to think of Jack and present him with a Christmas gift. I thought long and hard all day about whether or not my husband and I are raising a spoiled child. I wondered if he will grow to have an attitude of entitlement? If so, are we too late to fix it? Do we give him too much? Does he have too much? Does he appreciate what he has? All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I watched my only child sulk around because I’m a “mean mom” for refusing to take him out in hazardous weather conditions.

A few days have passed now and I’d like to report that I found clarity. I haven’t. I have drawn a few conclusions, though. We probably do give Jack too much. We only have one child and he’s a great kid who does well in school and rarely gives us any trouble. I think somewhere we believe that if we have the means to do something for Jack, or buy him something, we should, regardless of whether or not it’s called for or even necessary. He probably already does have too much and that, too, falls back on us. The more and more I struggled internally, the more I learned just how little my internal conflict had to do with Jack and how much it had to do with us, as parents. We need to be accountable for what we choose to give our child and why we chose to do so. Are we doing it for him or to make ourselves feel accomplished, better somehow? This is a question I will ask myself more and more now that I am more self-aware.

Finally, I learned that while Jack really loves all of his cool Christmas stuff, at the end of the day he’s an eight year old little boy who was cooped up in the house for two days, over his weekend and he was bored!

Parenting: Asking Myself the Tough Questions

Last weekend a severe snowstorm was forecast. Early last week, well before the storm was due to arrive, all of our local meteorologists had us under “Winter Weather Advisories and Warnings” and started round the clock storm coverage. The ravaged bread shelves and run on milk at our local market proved a storm was on its way to anyone who managed to evade the never-ending news coverage of the storm.

As predicted, late Friday night and all day Saturday, we were pounded with freezing cold gusty wind and inches upon inches of snow. Too cold to even let the kids go out and play in the snow, we were officially snowed in. I wasn’t worried about being snowed in, not by a long shot. A native Bostonian, I’ve long known how to handle a good old-fashioned snow storm, be it a dusting, blizzard, or even a Nor’Easter. My eight year son, Jack, loves the snow and he, too, is well versed in all things Winter. We were ready. Or so I thought.

Severe as the storm was, my husband even got the day off on Saturday! This almost never happens so Jack took full advantage of having Dad home and the two of them spent the day watching movies, reading comics, and playing video games together. Jack briefly joined Dad while he shovelled, but the elements were too much for our little guy and he was back inside with a warm cup of cocoa in no time.

By the time we woke up Sunday morning we were covered in a beautiful coat of snow so pure only Snow White could have rivaled its beauty and purity. Having spent the day before literally snowed in, Jack was eager to get outside and enjoy the snow. His main objective for Sunday was to hit up our local sledding spot and do some damage to the freshly fallen powder. I was happy to make this happen for him until I checked the weather and the temperature read 9 degrees, with a windchill below zero. Further destroying Jack’s Sunday Sledding Dreams was a call from my husband who advised me of extreme cold and treacherous road conditions. Alas, we weren’t going anywhere.

While I knew Jack would be disappointed, I wasn’t too concerned. Christmas was just two weeks ago and Jack received many wonderfully thoughtful and generous gifts. Santa, family, friends, and his parent’s (my husband and I, us!) were very good to Jack. Amongst other things, I figured Jack could easily entertain himself with his new lap top computer, GoPro Camera, the latest FiFa video game, or even start reading the latest hard cover edition of Harry Potter which he asked Santa for and expressed pure delight in when he opened it! Boy was I in for a rude awakening.

By 11:00AM Jack was incessantly complaining of boredom. As a mother to a little boy, I understand his need to be outside, to run, and play, and be free. Jack has always been that type of little boy. He loves being outside playing and makes friends with most any child he comes in contact with. So Jack’s initial complaint of boredom didn’t surprise me much at all. What did surprise me was his persistent complaining, unwillingness to take any suggestions as a means of self entertainment, and blatant disregard for every toy, book, or piece of technology he had access to in order to entertain himself.

As the day dragged, Jack’s complaining only got worse. Soon my reaction shifted from surprised to annoyed and finally to disappointed. Despite my attempts at both physically (handing him his lap top, a deck of cards, his iPad, a board game, a book) and verbally offering Jack options, he chose to do nothing. Instead, he moped around the house all day whining and complaining. While I’m sure my final mood was disappointment, I’m not sure if it was in Jack’s decision to not make a choice that would satisfy his boredom, or in myself. I sat thinking about all of the thought, planning, preparation, excitement, and money that went into making his Christmas special. Not just by us, but by everyone who was kind enough to think of Jack and present him with a Christmas gift. I thought long and hard all day about whether or not my husband and I are raising a spoiled child. I wondered if he will grow to have an attitude of entitlement? If so, are we too late to fix it? Do we give him too much? Does he have too much? Does he appreciate what he has? All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I watched my only child sulk around because I’m a “mean mom” for refusing to take him out in hazardous weather conditions.

A few days have passed now and I’d like to report that I found clarity. I haven’t. I have drawn a few conclusions, though. We probably do give Jack too much. We only have one child and he’s a great kid who does well in school and rarely gives us any trouble. I think somewhere we believe that if we have the means to do something for Jack, or buy him something, we should, regardless of whether or not it’s called for or even necessary. He probably already does have too much and that, too, falls back on us. The more and more I struggled internally, the more I learned just how little my internal conflict had to do with Jack and how much it had to do with us, as parents. We need to be accountable for what we choose to give our child and why we chose to do so. Are we doing it for him or to make ourselves feel accomplished, better somehow? This is a question I will ask myself more and more now that I am more self-aware.

Finally, I learned that while Jack really loves all of his cool Christmas stuff, at the end of the day he’s an eight year old little boy who was cooped up in the house for two days, over his weekend and he was bored!

https://perfectlyimperfect32wordpresscom.wordpress.com/

#dailydiscussions Hello Fellow Bloggers, I…

#dailydiscussions

Hello Fellow Bloggers,
I know we have a #wednesdayweeklyprompt, but do we have anything for Monday or Tue? Just looking for more ways to be active in the blogging community.

Thanks!
Katie
<a href="“>

It’s Coming

It’s so close, I can feel It.

Like the blood coursing through my veins, the oxygen filling my lungs, It races through my body.

It is so great, It’s power leaves me both speechless and trembling,

Unable even to hold my pen as I attempt to write It out.

I know It will be great,

I know everyone will love It,

I know It will have been worth the wait.

#weekendwanderings Agape “I thought I…

#weekendwanderings

Agape

“I thought I knew love and then I had you,” is something I often say to my son, and I’m not sure I could express the sentiment better if I tried. I was a wife, a daughter, granddaughter, sister, and friend when I became a mother, and so I was confident I knew love. Surely I loved my husband, family, and close friends. Then my son was placed in my arms and my entire life and prospective on love changed forever.

The moment I first felt my son’s soft, warm, pink skin against my own, I knew I had never known a love so strong, so pure, so unconditional, and I was sure I never would again. It was as if God Himself had placed this beautiful, healthy baby boy in my arms Himself, and I was never letting go. It was both the most Sacred experience and love I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and I’ll be forever grateful for that moment, and all the moments I’ve been Blessed with my son since that day.

Love is defined as, “an intense feeling of deep affection.” This doesn’t nearly describe the experience of love I had, and continue to have, for my son. The Bible defines agape as, “love; the highest form of love/the love of man for God and God for man.” I believe what I experienced with my son was true, Sacred, God-given agape, and I will live everyday thanking God for this Sacred, highest form of love.