Another Reason to Love Madeleine Albright
I have always loved Madeleine Albright.
My dream as a girl was to become the first woman Secretary of State. It was the only secretarial job I was ever interested in. I still imagine it as my dream job. You get to travel all around the world as a person of influence, representing great power,and meet really interesting, history-making individuals. Albright beat me there as a history-maker herself, and as it turns out, some equally formidable women have since followed in her path.
I, of course, admire her as a woman of intelligence, depth, and substance. Secretly, however, I am heartened that a woman can accomplish so much, undeterred by really unfortunate hair. Of all my physical insecurities, hair has got to be number one. Like Madeleine, I too have really thin, fine hair. Her’s is more of a receeding hairline, where mine is more like my dad’s – a thinning patch right on top. (Maybe this wouldn’t bother me so much if I were tall.) So please, if you see me on the street, try not to stare at my head. I work very hard to maintain the illusion of “normal”.
And now I have another reason to love her even more: Today I have learned that she has a new book coming out called Read My Pins. Apparently, she used her jewelry as a diplomatic tool back in the day. Oh, as if I didn’t love her enough, to find she can accessorize with style and wit! What better way to make a point than with a pin?
I have decided that I shall adopt this practice. I have always loved “statement” jewelry, but I think I can take this to a whole new level. Now, anyone know where I can get a skull brooch that shoots lasers from its eye sockets?
Boys Are Different
I was made to parent girls. I am infinitely patient, empathetic, encouraging. Where others find cringe-worthy whining and drama, I see an opportunity to teach a girl how to express herself appropriately, manage her feelings, protect her sense of self. I am the antidote to drama. So with my first two children being lovely girls, easy and delightful in every way, I did plenty of patting myself on the back for my superior parenting skills.
And then it happened (cue ominous music here). The boy arrived in our life.
I knew from early on that this was going to be a bumpy ride. The first two preganancies, I was glowing – Madonna-esque (that would be the mother of God, Madonna, not the material girl, Madonna) – the picture of maternal radiance. The third time around, I puked until the blood vessels in my face broke giving me two black eyes – not for just the predictable1st trimester morning sickness, but all day every day for the whole frickin’ term. But I’m over that – really.
He has proven to be all boy ever since – burlier, busier, never failing to be amused by anything to do with butts, snot or spit. He loves cars more than anything, and I am grateful that he has had little interest(so far) in guns, video games, WWF or other uber violent play. I knew, however, it would be just a matter of time before the Tueday Night Cage Match came to town.
My husband was a high school wrestler and retains a love of the sport, the real sport of wrestling. So one night he challenged the boy to a match. We all found this enormously entertaining, despite the fact (or maybe because) the match quickly devolved into a lot of rolling, kicking, punching, and hair pulling that spread to some of the sibling bystanders. I thought to myself, “What on earth are we doing here?”
This is not what we are about, and yet it felt frighteningly natural to encourage this boy behavior. I’ve discovered within myself a niggling “might makes right” mentality of which I’m not terribly proud. The big sisters have always been overly solicitous to the baby boy, but now that he is bigger and more aggressive with them, I find myself less patient with their whining and complaints.
I say very helpful things like, “Well, who’s bigger?” or “Do what you need to do, I’ll be in the other room watching Ghost Whisperer,” and quietly, I hope they will just lay him out. Why?
I really don’t want them to hurt him, but I do want him to clearly appreciate how he may and may not treat his sisters. Am I wrong to think that he will only understand that if we use physical force? I expect so.
God has a great sense of humor, and He has clearly sent this boy to teach me a few lessons.
Tired of the MJ Circus? Turn it off!
I don’t really watch much TV anymore. It’s not that I’ve adopted some superior lifestyle, I just gave it up for Lent. Once I got out of the habit, I just never cared to pick it up again. I realized I wasn’t missing all that much.
Giving up TV has meant that I have been spared what I’m sure is crushing, smothering, cloying, over-the-top coverage of Michael Jackson.I found out about his death via Twitter, which then prompted me to actually go watch Entertainment Tonight to see if it was true. I tuned into MTV to actually watch a few music videos for the first time in 20 years, and then I was done. My interest was satisfied.
What I can’t understand is why people are complaining so loudly about the media circus. I mean, they don’t have to watch. Turn off the TV, pick up a book, go for a walk , do something in the real world . Just stop bitching and acting victimized by your TV and computer. Seriously.
