We’re back from the farm. It was a great weekend, with great friends and a lot of excitement. Sofie celebrated her second birthday. Ella celebrated her first. We made a dirt cake and grilled brats. For Ella’s birthday, the Schultzs/Parras gave her a “Stella” doll. She has been dubbed, “Ella Bella’s Stella.” Ella thinks she’s pretty cool.
But Jay absolutely adores her.
He cradles her. He snuggles her. He kisses her. He changes her diaper. He asks her if she needs anything.
Last night Chris and I went for a walk. As we pushed them in the stroller, Ella snuggled Stella quietly. Jay sighed, sadly. “Mama, I wish I could have a doll some day.”
It was a headsmack moment. Why have I been such an idiot? A huge jumbo size sexist MORON? He has said for months (months!) that he wants a baby doll. And for some reason I have given him trucks. And trains. And cars. And you know. Other BOY stuff. Because. Obviously. He’s a boy. And to be fair, he likes that stuff.
But he also loves baby dolls. I mean he loooooooooooooooooooves baby dolls.
And I have been an ass, because each time we’ve had a gift giving occasion- birthday, Christmas, whatever- I have limited my shopping to the toys in the boy aisle. Sure, we’ve given him lots of gender neutral stuff, too, but I certainly have not done my part to flip the patriarchal paradigm on its fat chauvinist head. Or whatever.
When it comes to Ella, I’m a Rosie-the-Riveter-We-Can-Do-It-I’ll-rip-up-the-world’s-gender-stereotypes-with-my-bare-hands-and-bulging-biceps kind of a mom. Down with the man! My daughter can be anything she wants to be! Rar!
But then Jay picks out a slightly peachy shirt to wear and suddenly my feminist voice goes silent. It’s like the minute I had a son, all my grand ideas of gender neutralism were frantically tossed out the window, to be replaced with neat little categories of who gets to do what, based on how many X chromosomes they have.
Sure boys can wear pink, I would hear myself saying. Then, quietly I would add, “Just not MY boy.” And, I admit, I flipped out the night he had to borrow pajamas from his cousin when we had an impromptu sleepover. My brother has three girls. Naturally they have pink, girly pajamas. Jay traipsed into the living room with Barbie pajamas. I tried very hard to be blasé about it. I failed spectacularly. I think in the end I convinced him that sleeping in his underwear was just fine, really.
Sensible, feminist me: Why is this a big deal? Pink is a legitimate constituent of the color spectrum that deserves its day. Why should an entire gender be prohibited from wearing it?
Sexist mom me: Right on! Great idea! Just… you know… not for my son.
Sensible feminist me: You’re a pig
Sexist mom me: [Oinks sheepishly]
Here’s the thing, though. Jay has a wonderful role model. Chris demonstrates that gender stereotypes are bunk on a daily basis. He is a marvelous stay at home dad, who dotes on the kids, dresses them, feeds them, and teaches them about how the world works. Where on Earth did I get the idea that Jay would not want a baby of his own to do the same marvelous things with? Daddy shows him that boys can take great care of babies. So, today, we’re going out to buy Jay a baby doll. I’ll let him pick. Maybe I’ll even let him pick out some clothes for it.
In whatever color he wants.
Here are some pictures from the weekend, stolen brazenly from Julio's FaceBook page:
But Jay absolutely adores her.
He cradles her. He snuggles her. He kisses her. He changes her diaper. He asks her if she needs anything.
Last night Chris and I went for a walk. As we pushed them in the stroller, Ella snuggled Stella quietly. Jay sighed, sadly. “Mama, I wish I could have a doll some day.”
It was a headsmack moment. Why have I been such an idiot? A huge jumbo size sexist MORON? He has said for months (months!) that he wants a baby doll. And for some reason I have given him trucks. And trains. And cars. And you know. Other BOY stuff. Because. Obviously. He’s a boy. And to be fair, he likes that stuff.
But he also loves baby dolls. I mean he loooooooooooooooooooves baby dolls.
And I have been an ass, because each time we’ve had a gift giving occasion- birthday, Christmas, whatever- I have limited my shopping to the toys in the boy aisle. Sure, we’ve given him lots of gender neutral stuff, too, but I certainly have not done my part to flip the patriarchal paradigm on its fat chauvinist head. Or whatever.
When it comes to Ella, I’m a Rosie-the-Riveter-We-Can-Do-It-I’ll-rip-up-the-world’s-gender-stereotypes-with-my-bare-hands-and-bulging-biceps kind of a mom. Down with the man! My daughter can be anything she wants to be! Rar!
But then Jay picks out a slightly peachy shirt to wear and suddenly my feminist voice goes silent. It’s like the minute I had a son, all my grand ideas of gender neutralism were frantically tossed out the window, to be replaced with neat little categories of who gets to do what, based on how many X chromosomes they have.
Sure boys can wear pink, I would hear myself saying. Then, quietly I would add, “Just not MY boy.” And, I admit, I flipped out the night he had to borrow pajamas from his cousin when we had an impromptu sleepover. My brother has three girls. Naturally they have pink, girly pajamas. Jay traipsed into the living room with Barbie pajamas. I tried very hard to be blasé about it. I failed spectacularly. I think in the end I convinced him that sleeping in his underwear was just fine, really.
Sensible, feminist me: Why is this a big deal? Pink is a legitimate constituent of the color spectrum that deserves its day. Why should an entire gender be prohibited from wearing it?
Sexist mom me: Right on! Great idea! Just… you know… not for my son.
Sensible feminist me: You’re a pig
Sexist mom me: [Oinks sheepishly]
Here’s the thing, though. Jay has a wonderful role model. Chris demonstrates that gender stereotypes are bunk on a daily basis. He is a marvelous stay at home dad, who dotes on the kids, dresses them, feeds them, and teaches them about how the world works. Where on Earth did I get the idea that Jay would not want a baby of his own to do the same marvelous things with? Daddy shows him that boys can take great care of babies. So, today, we’re going out to buy Jay a baby doll. I’ll let him pick. Maybe I’ll even let him pick out some clothes for it.
In whatever color he wants.
Here are some pictures from the weekend, stolen brazenly from Julio's FaceBook page:
Jay and Sofia "drive" the tractor
"I just love a guy with nice knees."
Sofie hamming it up 
Becca and the birthday girl
Toddler drumming circle
Ella and Mr. Schultz
Daddy grilling brats
Ella, unimpressed with her zucchini cupcake (what?)
Ella, still sore about the whole zucchini cupcake thing 
Ella eating... oh hell, I don't know what
Rest assured, you really are a good mother and Jay is going to be just fine. Thanks for the pictures. Michelle T
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