Mom. A tiny little word filled with great big feelings. Being a mom, one of two in this relationship, is no easy task. Some may say it’s the toughest job in the world. This is not a news alert or a smoking gun. Any of you out there with the pleasure, and I do mean pleasure, of being a mom know that. (I’m kvelling…)
I’m the working mom and my partner, the love of my life, is the stay at home mom. While together, we are raising our two little awesome human beings to be wonderful people on the planet, Meghan clearly has the harder job (and I am often times filled with insane jealousy). We don’t claim to know everything, and we certainly know that parenting cannot be perfect, ours included. In fact we often strive for imperfect. The ‘P’ word itself is forbidden—invoking low self-esteem, eating disorders, $0.76 on the dollar, lack of interest in math and science, and probably even global warming and middle-eastern unrest.
We live in the age of ‘Leaning In,’ yet Barbie is still poorly proportioned. Pink prevails. It is not the new black. Our ‘Mighty-Girls’ choose twirly-swirly dresses over sensible clothes every time; and please, don’t get me started on their shoes. I’m becoming quite accustomed to the fact that a hike ‘over the river and through the woods’ will elicit the exact same wardrobe choice as a fancy party for my ‘little women.’ Cool. No sense arguing. Pooh says, “Be who you are.”
Well, they sure are who they are. And I love every minute of it. And Meghan and I will continue down our path to raise smart, brave, courageous, kind, grateful, empathic loving girls who will one day, hopefully a very long time from today, become women with those same traits.