So it has happened. The words “hot” and “girl” have been combined in a sentence at my kitchen table in Dex’s conversation with his friends. I lurked by the sink, bewildered by how, all of a sudden, they are talking about dances and girlfriends and, well, general “hotness.” I was equally bewildered by the fact that none of them seemed to either register or care that I was there. No filters, no whispering. Which actually pleased me, if they don’t think –at least not yet– that this is a topic to hide from parents. I even basked in a short-lived ego trip when I thought, maybe they feel so comfortable around me, they can talk like this. 

Neve was quick to tell me the boys had been talking about this is the car on the way home with another parent driving, bursting my little bubble. She was essentially disgusted by their comments and told them so. They ignored her. I had to smile because in another 5 years I am pretty sure that Dex’s friends will be evaluating Neve’s hotness and Dex will go ballistic.

So, here we go, another developmental surge. I have some studying to do.

My friend pointed out to me, “You never write that much about the baby.”

After I survived the blast of guilt, I began to think about why he has been absent from my blog. All I could come up with was the fact that I am a sort of “newness” junkie. 

Colin is adorable and very funny — when he knows we are unhappy with him, he just keeps saying “hi” until we break down and smile — but he is in most things so predictable, I suppose I sort of coast on auto pilot. He does exhibit individual character traits, sure, but he is still a baby with baby activities and concerns. It’s still the eat-change-swing-sandbox-eat-poop-change-sleep merry-go-round. All those milestones that get you so excited with your first child are still wonderful, but they don’t generate the kind of front page news that they used to.

I guess there are just certain things that don’t seem worth repeating when you’ve been through the baby thing a few times. We all know it is tiring and messy and sometimes very lonely and boring. You put your head down and get through it.  And up until Colin is really developing his own persona, most of the things I would say about him would fall into a sort of generic category.

A baby’s days are deliberately repetitive. They like the same toys, the same routine, the same words, so they can feel some mastery. With the older kids, though, I never know what will develop on any given day. There is always a new controversy, idea, insight or plan. They bring me things to wrestle with, things I don’t know how to handle. Things I haven’t mastered.  As Colin learns new physical skills, I am learning new emotional ones. And for me, I guess the new challenges are the things that keep me engaged as a parent.

I found myself ruminating about other women yesterday, women on the fringe, if you will, as I sat comfortably with my coffee, watching the kids play in the yard.

Recently, I went to see a documentary about three Afghan women who are committed to improving the circumstances of females in their country. As you might expect, these women - a teacher, social worker and doctor - were astonishing in their energy, courage and single-mindedness in the face of inhumane treatment. They regarded themselves as the lucky ones, managing to get an education and some perspective during the short window of time that women were allowed to be part of male society in Afghanistan.

What really struck me, as it did a few years ago when I saw a similar film about the recovery of Rwanda, was how much one woman can do with a firm attitude and few resources. I watched as a mother of five carted fresh water to her clay refugee camp hovel, fed her family, washed their clothes and few dishes, then packed everyone up to go teach girls in the camp how to read. So many times we tell our children, “it is what is on the inside that counts,” a value that is often hard to recognize in media culture. But the film highlighted women who truly had nothing to offer but the contents of their head and heart. They risked their lives through covert methods, they expanded minds and instilled hope, but most importantly, they believed to the core that things simply must get better. They carried an expectation for the women around them, women who did not dare to believe things could change. Their greatest gift to their peers was not the concrete ways in which they helped, but in daring to imagine another way.

And as I sat there in the yard, in the glorious sunshine of “my” day, I closed my eyes and dared myself to join that collective imagination. To silence the voice that lampoons idealism and says, “oh, shut up and do something.” It may have only been the contents of my heart and head, but it felt right to use what I had, then and there, to indulge my hope and belief and expectation for those who do not dare.

I hope you all had a lovely mother’s day.

-Andi

For those of you that kindly asked, here is how I am faring:In terms of wearing black, instead of other colors, I’d give myself about a B- . It takes a concerted effort to bypass  that pile of shirts, but I am doing it. The spring weather helps.In terms of smiling every time I look in the mirror, after a shaky start, I am really cranking now. I’m up to a solid B, which is about 80% of the time in my estimation. Try it, it really is a powerful exercise. Do it for your kids. And for those of you inquiring after my mother, she is doing quite well right now. Thank you for all your good wishes. It means the world to us.All the best to you,Andi