I think, therefore I am...Feminist

Last week I saw an image with this quote from Louise Brealey, "I'd like every man who doesn't call himself a feminist to explain to the women in his life why he doesn't believe in equality for women." I loved it, shared it and then began reading the comments underneath it...

One of the comments asserted that men should not call themselves feminists, but rather "feminist allies" because "men don't experience sexism, only women do".

Men don't experience sexism? Is the poster living in a different world than I?

From little boys, men are told not to cry, not to emote, are expected to like sports, hunting, fishing, aren't supposed to understand fashion and the list goes on. This is sexism, people.

Men and women, on a daily basis, experience sexism, equally. And it's all thanks to patriarchy.

Patriarchy is the issue, NOT men. Men are not the enemy, they are our brothers in the repressive nature of patriarchy. Patriarchy tells us that men are from Mars and women are from Venus. Patriarchy ignores the fluidity of human beings; that there are as many men that cry and love Grey's Anatomy as there are women that don't cry and love Duck Hunters. Patriarchy asserts that men do what they do because they are men and women do what they do because they are women. There isn't any room for the ebb and flow of nature and nurture in patriarchy. Patriarchy is what ails us.

A human being that believes in equality for all, regardless of gender, race, colour or creed, is a feminist. No one gender, or part of a gender for that matter, holds ownership over feminism. And it's anti-feminist to think it so.

Let's stop blurring the lines, getting off task, squabbling amongst ourselves being hung up on labels, and let's all of us, those of us that believe in universal equality for all human beings, shout it out loud and proud - I. Am. Feminist.

Enter, Super-Mom...

The Hubbs is in Toronto for work, which means I get to play the role of super-mom for a couple days.

This is not a role I aspire to or buy into. My identity is not shaped by my momness, my ability to to do all - work, keep a clean and organized home, have impeccably dressed and groomed children and still have time to look fantastic and post my intricate-martha-stewart-rivalling ideas on Pinterest. This is of great interest to some other moms, and good for them if that's what floats their boats.

For me, my boat is floated - if you will - by being a part of an egalitarian partnership in which we put our lives first and materials and appearances second.

So, when Hubbs tells me he's going on a work trip, I pretty much hyperventilate. Not because I can't handle it, but because it upsets the delicate balance I believe we've created together. We complement each other as parents and are learning to complement each other as life partners.

So, this morning started out well. I put my super-mom cap on and jumped out of bed at 5:55AM. Jumped may be an over-statement for a 32 week along pregnant woman, but it makes for a good image - no? I was showered and ready for the day by 6:56AM. I had breakfast for both kids on the table, had placed their outdoor and indoor shoes at the front door, along with their coats and was ready to wake them up.

I immediately started with lights on, singing the "good morning starshine" song (that I have no recollection from where I got it) to create a situation of "positive mood" in both babes. They were both giggling and cooperating as I changed their bums and helped them get on their clothes as I repeated "Ok, come on, we gotta go, go, go! Mommy has to get to work and you two have to get to daycare!"

As I made my breakfast and poured my coffee into a to-go mug, they laughed and chatted as they ate their breakfasts (a cereal bar and a glass of milk - breakfast of champions! ahem).

I could barely contain my excitement and keep from patting my own back as I had them at the front door at 7:22AM helping them with their boots and coats.

It was when I got them into the car that the first meltdown ensued. As I clipped my little guy into his car seat (bear in mind, I've squished my pregnant-out-of-shape self through the rear lift gate and into the "trunk" of the van to achieve this as we've already got the van ready to go for all three kids upon baby's arrival) I inadvertently scraped his back with one of the clips as I was pulling it over his shoulder. He started to cry and asking for his "tiger blankie". Oh crap, it's in the house. Oh crap, please stop crying and keep cooperating. Ok, ok, I'll get your blanket. Baby girl do you want yours too? Ok, Mommy will get it. 

I sprinted back into the house (just go with it), got the blankets, grabbed my breakfast, coffee and purse and headed back to the van. I handed each of them their blankets which made both very happy. They smiled, I got into the front seat, buckled up and we were on the road.

7:28AM

I am a god.

We pulled up to the daycare and, to my delight, both kids started to cheer - this drop-off was going to go really well, I can feel it.

I got them inside, convinced them both that they had to remove their jackets and boots and put on their indoor shoes, made it happen and walked them to their room. My little guy gave me a big kiss and forgot I was there within a nanosecond. My little lady, not so much.

She stood beside her brother, expectantly, awaiting her kiss but as I turned to walk away, she began to follow, waving to her brother and the others in the room. Oh craptastic.

The suckage ensued.

I turned back to her and said "Oh, no, sweety, sorry, you have to stay here at daycare and Mommy has to go to work." Instantly she burst into tears. And, just as instantly, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. CRAP!!

This is a really tough situation for parents. So many get caught up and their instincts tell them to stay and try to ease the child into daycare. But as much as it seems like the best thing for the child, it isn't. It simply prolongs the child's upset and tears. Daycare drop-offs need to be like pulling off a band-aid, quick - even if painful.

I picked my little darling up, hugged and kissed her, told her I loved her and would come and get her after work and handed her off to one of the caregivers in the room. The poor little punkin' screeched and held her arms out for me. My heart sunk even lower in my stomach as I turned my back and quickly made my departure.

I wanted to cry as I got into my van but I didn't let myself. I knew she would be ok, rationally, but emotionally I wanted to call in sick and spend the day with my babies.

Nonetheless, I put the van into gear and headed to work.

It's moments like these that make it very hard to do what I know is best for me and for my family (in the long run, at the very least), but I take a deep breath, and persevere. Tomorrow is another day.

Tests, Appointments and Peeing - In no particular order

I've been waiting all week for an incident to occur that I deemed funny enough to share on my blog. But then I entered into a conversation with Hubbs this morning; in which I used the words, "I will not live my life full of imaginary constraints!" (not a verbatim quote, my words are rarely phrased so aptly at the moment these days). And it hit me that this idea also extends to my blog.

So, although many funny little things happened throughout this entire week with our two wonderful children, it's been a relatively smoothly-run week.

What hasn't been running smoothly is this pregnancy.

Ay yi yi!

One of the many reasons I had decided not to have any more babies - regardless of my emotional desire to have 4 - is because I was IGT (impaired glucose tolerance) when pregnant with our daughter. My mom had gestational diabetes when pregnant with me, I waited until my 30's to begin having children, I'm still overweight despite countless diets and hours and hours of willing the fat to go away - these all translate into a significantly increased risk of my having gestational diabetes in future pregnancies.

And, as luck would have it, it happened this time.

With my daughter, I was able to manage my blood sugar levels completely with diet and exercise. With this one, not so much. I'm currently taking one shot of insulin before bed trying to figure out how much insulin my body needs to get my fasting glucose in the morning under 5.2 mmol. Right now it's staying strong in the 6's.

Good times.

The first insulin shot was interesting. I'll caveat this with the fact that I have four nieces and nephews that have juvenile diabetes - fully insulin dependant. I've been watching them test their blood sugars, watch their diets and inject themselves with insulin for years now. Of course, by virtue of their experience, I am a diabetes expert. ;)

Nonetheless, having to give myself the first shot took some courage.

I sat in a comfy leather chair wearing nothing but a bra and underwear (don't get a visual), taking deep breaths, insulin pen at the ready, Hubbs standing, watching me for "moral support" as I psyched myself into injecting the needle. When I finally had the courage and I put the needle in I felt really dumb - I didn't feel a thing! I feel more every time I have to prick my finger to check my blood.

The insulin pens are awesome!!! The needle is short and super thin and glides in steadily without any pain whatsoever.

Nonetheless, I still had to psych myself up to inject myself again last night. I felt silly the whole time! Hubbs started spouting off academics -- the human body has natural defence mechanisms that bladdy blah blah (he's so well-read, sometimes it's painful ;)) -- and I inserted the needle.

All that said, once the insulin hits the body, it definitely feels weird. Not painful, but uncomfortable. I don't like it. Luckily it's short-lived.

On top of this and the peeing and the constantly feeling as though this baby is partially inside my bladder and partially trying to dig her way out of my southern region...the appointments are killing me!

I respect and appreciate the fact that the Canadian healthcare system is designed to provide optimal care in certain areas (other areas are lacking, and care does vary from region to region...federalism...grumble grumble) but I'm a working woman. I don't have time for weekly appointments to the lab, ultrasounds, OBGYN and now Endocrinologists. Yeesh! The sheer amount of time that I need to run out for appointments is stressing me out!

Would I want the pendulum to swing the other way? Absolutely not. But I like a happy-medium.

Why in this day and age can't we do more care electronically, I don't understand. I keep a spreadsheet of my blood glucose levels, the food I eat, ketone results and insulin units...why can't I email said spreadsheet to the clinics and they can call me in if - and only if - medically necessary?

Well I know why, our healthcare system isn't designed for this, docs have to physically see patients to get paid for their work. Awesome. And so very progressive. /eyeroll

Sigh...some day I'll rule the world and it'll all be better....

In the meantime...I have to run to the ladies room and pee for the 20th time this morning.