Families

I always have a small piece of my brain on mom mode, no matter what else is happening. I have no problem with this, since that is how humanity has survived.

She is the type of woman I hope my daughter looks up to, a successful feminist role model if there ever was any. She is strong in the face of adversity. She does not cower when criticized. She knows that her words and actions are powerful, and is not afraid of those who would call her bossy, grating, shrill, yelling — when all she is really doing is being a leader. It is powerful for a growing girl to watch a woman like that thrive.

I felt lonelier than I ever had before. I didn’t recognize who I was anymore. I tried to play my role, but inside I was drowning.

She didn’t wean herself. There was no gradual decline in the frequency of nursing sessions, no mounting interest in outside activities, no moment of clarity in which she realized she didn’t need breastmilk. She would NEVER NOT NEED BREASTMILK. Breastmilk was the literal source of life for her.

And so, because I love my child, I am doing the thing I swore I’d never do: planning a princess party for my daughter. I am doing the thing that will make her happiest. I am helping her embrace her femininity by letting her be nothing other than who she wants to be.

We’re trying to raise him with a lot of options and very few assumptions, but I won’t be mad at you if you call my kid “handsome little boy” or something. It’s fine. People have a hard time talking about babies without gendered labels. Even I have a hard time with it, and I’ve put a kind of ridiculous amount of energy into analyzing this stuff.

However, I do have one favor to ask. Please, for the love of everything that is good in this world, stop calling him “little man.”

If you’re in any relationship only for what you get out of it, you’re in that relationship for the wrong reasons. Really, it’s not about the other person either; it’s about the relationship. Like actors in a play, you’re there together to tell one story. It’s not about you. So be kind, be generous, be compassionate, be forgiving, and above all, be supportive of the relationship itself — not just the other person in it.

I think “It can be difficult” probably qualifies for the understatement of the century. There is just nothing in a phrase so casual and noncommittal that conveys anything like the reality of this labor of love. I’m not saying that we need to be all doom and gloom about parenting all the time — there are plenty of joys in parenting, and plenty of space to talk about those joys — but I do think that when we’re trying to talk about the hard parts, we should, you know, actually talk about the hard parts.