I met Martee through the UCSD Eating Disorders Center and she is a special FB friend. Martee's soul and her soul-related musings are just too, well, soulful, not to share. Martee is a behind-the-camera mom and a philosopher and these are her people.
They went on a big road trip which I have loved following on FB. Martee knows how to capture the spirt of a big, messy, loving family.
I have gotten so much of what I wanted out of this road trip. Stick your family in the car and your family is stuck with you! When we moved to CA and the kids didn't know anyone, they became a pack. Always together (except Addy at the hospital). Always pals. Everything was from within. Back in Decatur, our Home, everyone has friends. You know, a lovely childhood full of social ties. Beautiful, really and the goal. We raise them to be kind. The whole point is pretty much relationships. In Decatur, my pack is scattered and happy for the most part, just being busy kids. The month long road trip reunites the pack. I grew up going to summer camp and adversity or homesickness, or living without air conditioning, or swimming in mucky water is a rite of passage. I love camp. I love the road trip. But not everyone does. I hear George wrestling with his sleeping bag right now. It is not easy to sleep in strange places. It isn't easy to go with the flow. Some of my pack needs stability, predictability, schedules, H&M, sand free/bug free accommodations, and wifi. No one signed up for this camp/road trip. It was mandatory. They are awesome wicked pissah sports but anxiety and depression can creep up. In the spirit of being a light shiner, mental illness follows you on vacation, too. And I am so grateful that my family is willing to brave any struggle they have and be such hard workers- fighting off the moments when the anxiety is bigger than the hope. I'm not sure of the best ways to spend these fleeting summers of childhood. With my two oldest being 18 and 17, this might be the last extended crazy mama road trip and I'm glad I did it. It is a lot more fun than staying home and grounding your teenagers for underage who knows what. But no matter what, I can't freeze time. I can't keep them in the van forever.
So I got this Mother's Day present . . . and I realized it could be not just a present for me, but other mothers/fathers/carers out there. When we began Family Based Treatment (FBT) for our daughter's eating disorder (we were lucky to have a doc who was up to date on evidence-based treatment and sent us straightaway to the UCSD Center for Eating Disorders Treatment and Research), my greatest concern was what would happen to my relationship with my daughter. This is a common refrain and I also hear about clinicians warning parents about the destructive potential of FBT and doubting the ability of most families do do FBT.*
My daughter and I had a close, loving relationship throughout her childhood. She was not a perfect child, but she was definitely a good kid. We had normal teen/mother discord, but at the point of her descent into anorexia, she was a self-sufficient, mature, smart young woman of 17 and was already "raised." It was all over but the check-writing her father and I thought.
We were wrong as it turns out.
FBT requires of parents that they become, in essence, a caricature of all things popular culture tells us causes eating disorders.
Things I had to do to help save my daughter's life included being controlling about her food and activity, monitoring her both physically and online, being willing to have her taken by the police for a psych hold over meal refusal (we got close, but it never happened) and being present in her life to a degree not seen since she was two years old. It was not fun for either of us. Not even the teensiest little bit.
Things my daughter's eating disorder (That Bitch Anorexia in our home) said and did during the time I was doing the above? Let me just say that when I relayed the day's post-mortem to my husband (working out of state at the time of refeeding), this clip often informed my reporting--"And then her head spun around and venom spewed from her mouth." There's a reason parents and sufferers often externalize the psychosis of eating disorder behavior as "The Beast."
Now for the good part.
FBT worked for us. We embraced the counterintuitive "food police" nature of the treatment. We accepted the idea that this was short term pain for long term gain. We trusted the research that showed FBT to be the most-effective treatment for adolescents with anorexia. We found hope in seeing others further down the path than us and from the light we saw in their children's eyes. We were cruel to be kind, in the right measure.
We leaned in. We pushed when we were told (by her/ED) to back off. Even after her initial recovery, we put a safety net in place that, if you don't understand eating disorders, made it sound like we didn't trust our own adult child (we do, we just recognized the tentacle-like nature of an ED and wanted to help her help herself--which she did). We chose to shape the path so that we could choose recovery for her in the event she was unable to choose it for herself. We were hard-asses of the first degree.
Now for the great part.
That relationship worry so many of us have? For many of us the intense battles between parent and child during refeeding didn't ruin our relationships with our children; in fact, they made the relationships closer and stronger. Fighting for your kid's life--first without their help and then, after their brain is no longer malnourished, alongside him/her, can be a powerfully bonding and affirming experience.
Fighting Stigmatizing of EDs: Anorexia is NOT a style statement!
Me and my girl, summer 2014
This is our story and it is also bigger than just our story--because it also the story of so many other families who choose FBT to treat their child's eating disorder. To me, FBT shares common ground with parents giving insulin injections to their diabetic children and with parents of children who have cystic fibrosis and requite at-home percussion therapy and with the many parents who make myriad medical decisions for their kids every day that may require both the family and child to endure unpleasant times in the service of life-saving treatment.
To my baby girl, you of the twinkling eyes, gorgeous smile and all-over glow seen above--you are rocking life at every level and to have had a part in your metamorphosis from seriously ill to physically and mentally healthy was my honor, my privilege and my purpose as your mother. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO.
*FBT doesn't work for everyone; in fact, there is as yet no one treatment for anorexia that does. There are valid reasons why FBT isn't the best choice for some families and many parents fight just as hard as I did, using other treatment models. That said, the resistance to FBT by clinicians is puzzling in light of the fact there is no treatment that has better outcomes or works for a larger swath of people. Not educating patients and families on ALL treatment approaches, modalities and the evidence for them, is malpractice as far as I am concerned.
So I went to this amazing conference in Boston (International Conference on Eating Disorders) and I have about 3,500 words pending about it in other spaces that talk about the important stuff.
This story is not the story of what I learned and who I met and the amazing work that we are doing.
This is the story of how I became a lead player in an insane Groundhog-Day-esque encounter and learned firsthand what a Masshole is.
On Wednesday morning I sat in the reception are of the upscale Marriott Copley Plaza, waiting for my compatriots to arrive, tethered to an outlet because my iPhone decided that a cross-country trip and a few days in a strange city was a great time to begin draining the battery at lightning speed.
I was approached by an androgynous woman I initially mistook for a man. She definitely picked the wrong target for her panhandler spiel (I will buy food cards if I am moved by someone's plight; I don't do cash ever) of: "My kids and I became homeless today and a room at the Y is $63 a night and I've got $8--can you spare a few bucks." I smiled politely and said "Sorry."
On Thursday night I sat in the lounge area of the (still upscale with a professional, business vibe) sharing drinks, appetizers and energy with three of my fellow advocates and good friends.
The woman from the lobby approached our table and delivered the aforementioned spiel to which I replied for the table, "Sorry, we are on cards." I would not have been shocked had she whipped out a card reader, but she did not. As she walked away, I, thinking she was out of hearing range leaned over and shared with my friends, "I heard that exact same story yesterday in the lobby." My intended meaning being, "Hmmmm, she JUST became homeless TODAY, when she told me yesterday she just JUST became homeless TODAY."
Whether she wasn't as far away as I thought, or my voice was louder than I intended or whether perhaps she just has amazing hearing, she heard me.
And wheeled around.
And proceeded to deliver, at shockingly high volume, the following diatribe in a classic Boston Southie accident. She would have been the tomboy sister in the movie "The Fighter."
"You fahkin' bitch! Who the fahk do you fahkin' think you are? You don't have a fahkin' clue! Fahk you ya' fahking bitch! (Chorus repeated several times before the concluding line). And why don't you get a fahkin' dress that isn't three sizes too fahkin' small ya' fahkin' bitch."
Let's let that sit for a moment . . .
I was body-shamed for my weight and style choice at an eating disorder convention.
So that was fun.
But hey, a blogger is always a little happy about any encounter that makes a great anecdote.
And the bar manager did tell me that in his opinion I looked really good.
The fahkin' outfit I was wearing
Two encounters does not, however, a Groundhog Day-esque experience make, amiright?!
I am right.
Sunday morning as I walked to the lounge, with a friend who had been there for incident #2 and an acquaintance from New Zealand, we were approached by my apparent stalker who opened with "My kids and I became homeless today and a room at the Y . . . "
That's as far as she got before registering that the "Are you motherfahking kidding me?!" expression on my face was a result of our previous encounter. I said not one word but began to walk briskly to the nearby hostess stand while casting my eyes about for security. While I did that, she began, once again, to involve the entire hotel in our little tableau by unleashing the following torrent of anger and profanity at me.
"You fahkin' bitch! I will fahkin' kick your fahkin' ass right fahkin' hear and fahkin' now! I will fahkin' beat you down right. fahkin'. here you fahkin' bitch!" (Repeat x 5 with little variety).
(The story of how security was nowhere to be found and how the hotel employees at the hostess stand were nonplussed by this scene to a rather shocking degree and how I was charged for the drink I ordered when the waiter checked to see if I was okay after the 2nd verbal attack and how the person who handles Twitter for Marriott and I are bffs now and what the corporate response to this was is a different story for another time).
Not only does this California girl know exactly what a Masshole is, she will be fahkin' happy to never meet another one.
For fahkin' realz.
It may be a fahkin' while before I watch Good Will Hunting, The Town or The Departed again. Just fahkin' sayin'.
I often get pitches to post on my blog. I've made some great relationships through social media so I always give a quick peruse to anything that has my name right. If you call me Jenna and say you've been reading and love my blog, you're a liar. It's actually a decent system.
I get far fewer pitches and I accept even fewer of those in the last couple of years; this post was written because the folks at Oscar, an New York based health insurance company, had actually read my blog, and were interested in my take on Family Wellness as part of Family Wellness Month; they have a focus on using technology in a variety of ways to support the health and wellness of their insured. Wearing my advocacy hat for a moment--I think it's time for the eating disorder community to reset our relationships with insurers--with a mutual goal of saving us lives and them money. Early diagnosis and prompt aggressive appropriate level-of-care with family training and support saves lives and money.
My first message about family wellness and healthy living is to understand that thin doesn't automatically equal healthy and fat doesn't automatically equal unhealthy. Confused? Poodle Science explains it well.
Internalizing that message will set you on the path to Family Wellness and increased happiness and contentment.
My other recommendations for Family Wellness?
Limit screen time. Do this from day one and do not fall prey to the siren song of a moment's peace. Now, I am not saying don't have TVs or computers or iPads or phones--I'm not a Luddite and I don't want your kids to be either (unless you do, in which case it's unlikely you are reading this blog).
I was lucky to be able to raise my kids in a cul-de-sac in a lovely suburban San Diego community. I had weather on my side. The families around us had the same values regarding childhoods spent in the great outdoors. Plus, I was a stay-at-home-mom. It was clearly a supportive environment in which to stand firm of limited screen time and I recognize my privilege.
And I would still encourage everyone to do their best to do the same on screen time limits.
Two simple rules (one mine, one my neighbor's) made it possible to stay sane(ish) and not have to deal with the dreaded attempted parental wear down (also known as nagging/begging).
Ours was no screens during the week. We recorded shows all week and Sunday night was early dinner and family TV viewing. We had a couple of GameBoys for car rides and as the kids got older we finally got a game system (when our youngest son was about 10) and marathon game sessions on sports-free Saturdays were definitely a thing. Today our four adult children have thanked us for our rules and vowed to do the same (or stricter!).
My neighbor's rule was no TV at all during the school week and no TV during daylight hours on weekends and in the summer.
Another neighbor had no screen restrictions, but the kids were outside with ours all the time anyway so that was a natural limitation there.
Play--with bikes, balls, bats and wheeled contraptions of all type (one year Santa got all the kids in the neighborhood Razor Scooters) was never thought of as exercise and yet movement was constant.
It wasn't just the kids that cavorted either--I play a mean tetherball and game of HORSE. Pickup basketball games with kids on dad's shoulders brought everyone out on summer evenings. Games of catch were a way to stay connected through the teen years.
Nutrition is a hot topic these days and on that my thought is cook at home as much as you can. In the elementary school years I often prepped dinner right after I dropped the kids at school. Don't buy Uncrustables--make your own on Sunday night and put them in the freezer for the dreaded school lunch packing grind. Throw in a cookie or some chips. Probably better not to throw in ten cookies. Hitting fast food occasionally is unlikely to hurt anyone, but seven nights a week not so good. Reserve soda for sit-down restaurants and drink milk or water at home.
Sleep is important; for you and them!
And know that you can do everything "right" and sometimes things will happen anyway--it did for us when our youngest daughter developed anorexia (she is doing fantastically well today). If and when it does, all the above tips will hopefully have you in a place where you have the energy to do what you need to do and the loving relationships that eating together and playing together build. Make sure you put the "Family" in "Family Wellness" and odds are good for things to work out just fine.
This picture is a couple of years old, but it popped up in Google Images when I was searching for a link and I really love it so what the hey.
I decided to gift my poor neglected blog a post. What I have been up to? Had a phenomenal Thanksgiving with MVP and Mandy here (everyone but Danger Boy was home) that was low-key immediate family (including my 21-year old nephew who is living with us) which felt just right. The day before is actually my favorite day because I love the warm camaraderie of the bustling kitchen, although our new tradition of a day-of bike ride and the dreams of a lottery-win-bayside homesunder a sky drawn with cornflower darkening to cerulean has its charms. As do the tables in the sand set with holiday-themed floral arrangements.
I got new running shoes when we visited our local Road Runner outlet and wore them exactly once the Monday before Thanksgiving before falling victim to a chain of maladies that has kept from exercising for almost a month. I think I might be over it. Holding my breath.
Work is insane and fulfilling. My second job is the same. I am working hard with International Eating Disorder Action --we now have a website along with our blog (that's the kind of thing I mostly write these days), Twitter (@IEDACtion) and Facebook group. We are loosely organized to be more adaptable to react quickly than a group like F.E.A.S.T. (which is hands down the number one family resource I recommend); I think we can complement each other and magnify our respective voices.
I am also stoked to be receiving and providing support with a new FB-based parent support group--Eating Disorder Parent Support or EDPS. It's co-ed, well-moderated and for carers only, which is important to me. Once you learn enough to start following the money, you recognize the value of independence from those who profit (irrespective of the good they do) from treating eating disorders. Of course this is not to say there cannot be incredible collaborations, it's just a consideration. I am thrilled to be working with so many smart, passionate people.
Though it seemed an iffy proposition for a bit, we will have a respectable semblance of Christmas here. Thank you Amazon Prime. We are almost tree-only on decorations this year (my 40-year old self is appalled; my 50-year old self is giving that self the finger).
Christmas Cards are out though no letter--posting to FB I think. The cinnamon rolls were a breeze this year--Social Butterfly was a lean mean dough-rolling machine today. As well as a remarkable cleaner upper. I covered the bar and dining room table with peanut clusters, put them in bags and realized that left us with none so I will be reprising that activity in the next couple of days.
The last three weeks, with the one week of back jacked-ness and another two of super-cold, have made me very aware that lack of productivity makes me cranky. Me no likey.
I missed Mr. Fix-it's work party, but am going to make at least three that I am really looking forward to. This is the time of year when my friend Sandra and I sometimes (not every year) find ourselves closing a party down and paying for it the next day. It's always worth it. Nothing solid for New Year's Eve, but I can be really happy with a movie and sushi.
I cannot believe SB is going to Australia in two months (I am also insanely jealous) and DB has one semester of college left. Mind Blown. Truly.
So that's the post-7% beer followed by a hot bath state of the state from me. I am nostalgic over the days of Jen's Holiday House Tour, but the only constant is change and I accept that. If I don't post here before 2015, my wish for you is a holiday and a new year filled with fun, family, friendship and fulfillment.
This started out as a status update in a closed group on Facebook and it was so amazing I had to ask if I could post it. Nancy Chiado Clarkson is a warm, supportive and very giving woman; one of the many I am lucky to know. She also runs a support group and posted this piece on that blog.
Good morning Dear Mommas ~
As I sit here and read these posts -- especially from the new moms -- I want to come and hug each and every one of you. I want to talk with you personally and give you some hope and light in the darkness you are experiencing. In looking back over the years ED invaded our home and took over our lives the memories are painful indeed.
I know we all want our kids to be happy. That is a mother's dream. However, when ED shows up, they become something we can hardly believe. This, however, is what I want you to believe: Your loved ones have been taken hostage by this disease. They are still there, just unable to find their voice because the one in their head is so loud and constantly reminds them how useless and worthless they are. While your loves ones are still under 18, you need to make some tough decisions for them. They are incapable of seeing what is best for them. They cannot trust themselves, so they trust ED. Will they (ED) get angry? You bet.
For so many years, I parented this disease out of guilt. My decisions made me feel better, but it did nothing to help my daughter. I was so afraid of causing anger, that I walked on eggshells and gave ED a comfortable place to live. I needed to grow a spine of titanium! The threats were ugly, mean, hurtful. However, I adopted the mindset that she could be mad at me for the rest of her life. I had to do what needed to be done to see that she would have a successful life.
Recovery around life, not life around recovery. You cannot have one foot in recovery. You need to be all in, all the time. If they are not well, their life will be one painful struggle after another. It takes time -- years sometimes -- and it is exhausting. Self care is mandatory. Mirror for them what you want for them. When they see us crying and out of control ourselves, it only reinforces what the ED is trying to convince them: look at what you are doing to your family. You are worthless. My daughter shared that tidbit with me after her recovery. I never looked at it that way.
I understand each family dynamic is different and sometimes there is nothing we can do. What we can do, however, is take care of ourselves. Sometimes the change we want, needs to start with us.
Above all else, love them. They are hiding behind the mask called ED and it takes time to trust themselves, love themselves and find themselves.
Know I am always available for a phone chat should you ever need anything. All you need to do is ask. I never want any one of you to feel alone through this journey. We need each other and I thank God each day for Debra who has reached out to us all to keep us afloat.
Hugs, kisses and hope to you all. Hang in their Mommas -- you are stronger than ED ever could hope to be. Lean on us, cry with us.
It seems like a lifetime ago I touched down at Reagan in Washington DC late on a Friday night. Because it's how Barbara-Jill and I roll, the plane was early and the traffic bad so I got to hang out for a bit (which meant I got to take a photo for a mom visiting her daughter at Gallaudet for the first time--her welcoming party was foiled by the early arrival, but we pretended her daughter and friends had been waiting with their signs).
Any trip with the two of us (Boston, New York, Philadelphia) is a comedy of errors worthy of an I Love Lucy episode; just getting checked into the hotel was an adventure--after we navigated through the throng of well-dressed, national-fraternity-conference-social-night celebrants clogging the surrounding streets, we were told there was no parking for us at the hotel. Luckily, Union Station was a 1/2 block away (oh, Hyatt Regency bell captain you are probably stilling chuckling over that mischaracterization).
Foiled again in our attempt to get out of the Union Station parking lot and walk the mile to the hotel!
A bright light in our Union Station interlude was a guy who was similarly aghast at the thought that we, paying hotel guests, were kicking our vacations off by schlepping through a train station parking structure. He gave us great info on a late night tapas bar and then--more luck--when we almost abandoned our quest to said tapas bar as it took us through a dicey street landscape, he and his party showed up to let us know were walking past a homeless shelter and Google wasn't lying about how to get to the tapas bar, but we might want to consider a longer, alternate route on the return trip.
Oyamel, where at 1 a.m. I channeled my inner West Wing legisltative aide and drank delicious tequila and ate a cactus paddle and it only cost me half my food budget for the whole trip.
Barbara-Jill is the BEST person ever to sight-see with--she is a travel agent by trade. I don't believe the Old Town Trolley people really thought you could do the Orange, Green and Red lines in a day, but we did it!
Also? We had mega-fun doing it AND the next day when we took a more leisurely tour of some museums.
Of course, we also had an incredible time just sitting and talking for umpteen hours (as one does with a lifetime BFF who they don't see in person very often). I am stoked for next summer's meetup in Denver to take in a Red Rocks concert and meet Barbara-Jill's new husband IRL.
I actually took my big girl camera with me and was able to indulge my love for all things texturey and patterny in architecture . . . Barbara-Jill was quite patient with me and my penchant for pointing my camera at ceilings--especially ones with a Greek Revival motif.
San Diego has a lovely botanical garden, but it doesn't have a very cool metal sculpture garden--note to Mr. Fix-it, doesn't metal work sound like a lovely hobby . . .
I am exhausted in the best possible way, but still know I need to get some rest, so this will be brief. I have the UCSD conference this next weekend (complete with international houseguests) and the weekend after is NEDA in San Antonio where I will be a presenter on the UCSD panel on Multi-Family Treatment
I couldn't not post tonight because so many of you have been amazingly supportive. The purple manis and pedis almost made me cry!
It is no surprise that Lobby Day was amazing for me--my personal highlights were deliveing this "spiel" to Congressman Scott Peters aide to kick off the day, knowing enough about Darrell Issa's politics (which I loathe entirely. Cough, Benghazi, cough.) that I could bring up that he should support the cause of moving cautiously on BMI testing in schools as it fits his small-government platform (the aide suggested we reach out to some Libertarians) and making friends with a British doctor who was tagging along--I've passed my correspondence with the CDC scientist in charge of their position on anti-obesity education to him and he is considering doing the BMI study we are asking for with our Dear Colleague letter when he is done with his Harvard Public Health Master's as he is planning on a fellowship with the CDC.
Eating Disorder Coalition Lobby Day 10/1/14
More photos to come; I would love it if you would listen to my very short intro into why I was there and will continue to be there (it's only 56 seconds long).
The last time I've written about me is April 30. That is a darn long time ago and a lot has happened since then. Facebook is so ubiquitous in my life, I assume everyone knows everything, but realistically no full stories are told on FB--it's pretty much just the highlight reel, right?
So many of you have been with me for so long--7 years--you've seen my life transform in some drastic ways. One of those major transitions has been career-wise. For the past 18 months, I taught pharmacy technicians and running the externship program (a vocational internship) for a campus of a well-known chain of vocational schools (I started as a adjunct three years ago). My department was overseen by the Allied Health Program Director (the umbrella for the pharmacy tech, medical assistant and medical billing & coding programs). Since the M.A. portion is far and away the largest program, and has a separate accreditation which requires someone with an M.A. credentials, the program director (PD) has always come from that background.
My former boss was a reluctant and interim administrator and, in the interests of making the position easier to fill and do, I was asked a couple of months ago to take over the role of PD for Pharm Tech and MBC, and the MA program would stand alone. I said yes and I really enjoyed the job for three weeks--which is the length of time I had it before they powers-that-be came back to me and shared an idea for bringing everything back under the Allied Health umbrella, having me run it, and having my former boss be my assistant.
I didn't respond immediately as the position meant leaving the classroom, but after thinking hard and negotiating salary (women: men don't take the opening offer and neither should you), I knew yes was the right answer. I'm not even going to humblebrag this one: I got promoted twice in one month 'cause I rock my job. Women need to start owning their awesome like men do and I've decided to lead by example.
I LOVE everything about my new job.
I get to counsel students and since I've always had a soft spot for the underdog, getting to meet and hopefully help lots of underdogs is amazing. Some I will be able to save and some I won't, but what a cool thing to spend your time trying to do!
I get to lead a team of 12 and so far everyone seems happy with how they are being led.
I get to bring my ideas and the ideas of others to fruition.
I get to put my master's degree in Instructional Leadership to great use by learning the language of data analysis and doing things like evaluating year-over-year trends and then drilling down for answers as to why.
I get to develop talent.
I took this position two weeks before an internal audit and I worked six days a week, 12 hours a day to dig out from a considerable mess, but I did it and was part of a very impressive result campus-wide. I got to establish myself as a person that expects results, not excuses, and that was helpful.
Several people have remarked that my eyes sparkle when I talk about this new position and that can never be a bad thing.
What else? Let's do this up-to-date thing:
Helping plan, as part of the social media committee, #MarchAgainstED
Still working on the Jenny situation--frantically, on occassion. She was just in the hospital for a week getting an endocronological workup. Next step getting sorted still.
I am writing a lot about eating disorders (links at bottom of the post)
Danger Boy and Social Butterfly are just about ready to go back to school. Time flies. DB will be a senior and SB hopes to study at University of New South Wales in the spring.
My nephew, Travis, is living with us. This falls under the never say never category. He's gotten older and wiser (he is 8 days younger than DB) and is ready for some Jenn-style tough love to set him on his way. It's a good thing and I'm really happy we are in this place.
Grownup Girl and Grownup Guy took a memorable Alaskan cruise and are now ready to focus on starting a family. Can't. Wait!
So looking forward to a trip this coming weekend to see MVP and Mandy and her parents and attend this concert at Red Rocks Ampitheatre in Colorado. The concert was a birthday gift and we're going on our 27th wedding anniversary weekend. How cool is that?
A five-part series for the Dr. Greene site (I am glad I saw his TED talk--cool info I'm sharing with my kiddos about waiting to cut the umbilical cord. Also, DB is impressed with me for being affiliated with someone who did a TED talk).
I have a very large capacity for outrage at injustice and inequity and a virtually endless capacity to discuss it.
This is probably why Nicole and I got shushed in the waiting room at the oral surgeon's while Social Butterfly was getting her wisdom teeth pulled (send healing wishes and heavy whipping cream). Nicole and I might be sorta-kinda-very-similar in our knowledge of, and enthusiasm for, our "issues." So there we were, animatedly discussing feminism, misogyny and rape culture and and an old man shushed us. Loudly.
I have always been a feminist, but never a militant one. I was not ever one to call anyone out for referring to me as a girl. Now I wonder about the wisdom of that. Was I complicit in maintaining the cultural attititude of dismissivenes and marginalization toward girls and women that is more pervasive today than it was when I was actually a girl?
Danger Boy 20 years old, plays water polo for Gannon University in Erie, PA. He's the strong, silent type. Studying PoliSci.
Grown-up Girl Dr. GrownUp Girl is happily home after finishing pharmacy school in Chicago. Busy building a post-student life with Dr. GrownUp Guy.
GrownUp Guy GrownUp Girl's husband and a most-excellent son-in-law. Oh yeah, he's Dr. GrownUp Guy, PharmD.
Mr. Fix-it Husband and father extraordinaire. He is gone more than he is home, but all his frequent-flyer miles keep this big family connected.
MVP 23 years old, graduate of Colorado State Fort Collins with a major in Wildlife Biology and a minor in sustainability. He lives in FoCo with his girlfriend, Mandy, and their dog Rosy.
Social Butterfly 18 years old, attends Northern Arizona University, majoring in psychology. She's my snuggle bug.
