The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

 

Defining Feminity

I was driving my seven-year-old son, Nick, and his friend, Ryan, home from our swim club. Ah, I loved the easy days of summer spent poolside. A little chit-chat with other moms, a short nap and time to flip through trashy magazines.

The only thing I didn’t like about summer was the incessant need to shave my legs and other more difficult to reach areas. As a woman of Italian heritage, daily summer shaving was another mark of summer. I’d never started fussing with my brows or upper lip – too much maintenance.

Ryan interrupted my hairy thoughts.

“Which of my moms do you think is more masculine?” he asked.

Odd question. But Ryan has two mothers and I guess he needed to work through a number of questions.

“I don’t think either of your moms is masculine,” I answered. Neither mom fit any butch stereotype.

“I know,” Ryan said. “But if you had to pick, which one would it be?”

“Cynthia,” I responded. Cynthia wasn’t masculine. Nor was she a girly girl. Neither was I.

“I’m probably more masculine than either of your moms,” I added. I’m trying to let Ryan know that his moms fit into the world of ALL mothers.

“Yeah,” Ryan responded. “Especially because you have that big, dark mustache.”

Out of the mouth of babes.

OK, -- time to add lip waxing to my hair removal activities.

By Marianne Lonsdale

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Comments:
Hysterical!
 
Consider getting out the razor, Marianne... ;)

-Hairy Betty
 
Hilarious story!

My brother was walking with his three-year-old son when they stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light. There was a huge, Hell's Angel looking guy right in front of them. The three-year-old points and says, quite loud, "Daddy, why is that man so FAT?"

Recently, when we were going to a 40th birthday party for a friend, my 10-year-old son asked, "Is this a happy thing or an occasion for sadness?" To a ten year old, 40 is the new dead, I guess.
 
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