My kids are still at that age where they think I’m a badass. They brag about me to their friends, they tell me all the time how much they love me – they even call me the strongest woman they know.
How long can I ride this train?
It’s gonna come to an end I’m sure. I’m gonna be viewed as the wicked queen at some point. But right now I’m just mommy…who happens to rock!
I’ll take it. I’ll take all of it for as long as I can. We have two daughters, growing up in a world that is still very much male-dominated. I have flourished in that world, I’m pretty rough and tumble and most of my friends are men. But I have not completely escaped the perverted and creepy grasp of a world that does not always show respect for a population who, not only contributes greatly to the world work force, but births and raises the same little shits that dump on gender equality.
I’ve learned from my own experiences and from much research that more important to their fragile self-esteem, is not my role as much as it is their father’s. For his part, we are on the same page (for god sake’s, he’s married to a police officer and an outspoken one at that; he’s certainly not a misogynist!) and he makes every effort to be the man who says, “don’t look for a man to complete you; find one that isn’t intimidated by your goals.” And the age-old cliché that little girls look for boys like their daddy, seems to be pretty in line with real life. So keep that in mind dads….
One day, I will not be cool. My job will not be cool. I won’t know anything. They will look at me like I have another, very unfashionable and not SnapChat worthy, head growing out of my neck. They will roll their eyes (which the little one is already doing at 5, lord help me) and they will answer everything I ask with “I don’t know” and “nothing”.
So for now, I will revel in the fact that they think I rock. Because, fuck it, I do rock!