Feminism, as it turns out, is not genetic

I realized yesterday that my children are not going to teach themselves to walk in my footsteps… Apparently I have to actively do that for them.  Not that I require them to follow my lead, but, well, you’ll see what I mean.

I picked up the kids yesterday after voting.  (No lines, walked in, out, done, right after work.) Jessica had an “I voted” sticker that this little boy ‘D’ had given her.  Now, I like ‘D’ for the most part and the fact that Jessica insists on trading little gifts with him from time to time and speaks of him often doesn’t really bother me.  I asked her while driving home (me, not her, I only let her drive when I’m drunk) who she had voted for and gave her the name of the two main choices just for amusement factor on who she picked.  She rolled her eyes at me.  Literally.  She told me I was being silly and that SHE didn’t HAVE to vote because ‘D’ voted FOR her.  All my feminist life just got thrown back at me with a big old Barbie ribbon tied around it.  Nice.

Asher, in case you were wondering, notified me that he voted for Spiderman.  Later at dinner he changed his mind to Obama so I’m afraid Spidey lost out on that one.  I haven’t had a chance to ask Gavin as he was playing at a friends house until later and then he had to focus on homework.  Gavin has recently decided he is a vegetarian though and now eats Boca Burgers so, ya know, I’m thinking republican is out of the question.

Oh, also, when I picked the kids up at daycare, our daycare lady, whom I consider a close friend and has known me for more than 7 years or so, was hinting around to try to figure out who I voted for.  Seriously?  I looked at her funny and said “I’m a pagan feminist working mother who speaks out against religion in the government and has actively joined forces with the MN civil liberties union to remove a ‘God’ sign from my son’s public school.  I’m currently pregnant with twins from two gay guys whom I am helping to create a family.  I buy organic soy milk and raw organic almonds in bulk from the neighborhood co-op and carry it all home in my cloth reusable bags.  Are you ACTUALLY asking me if I’d vote republican?”  Apparently, I need to spend more time in my birkenstocks… if I could find them.  That or add more tie-dye to my wardrobe.

Sadly, my numbers obsession did not go in my favour this morning at the gym.  While I was really hoping for that 16 pound gain to stick into the 16 week point, I went up enough ounces to give me an official 17 pound gain from pre-pregnancy.  I’m only partially bummed by this for a few reasons.  First, it was really only a difference of a handful of ounces so it wasn’t that big of a jump.  Next, I have been extremely on track for a long enough time frame that I don’t feel guilty about the numbers.  If my body felt the need to go up with the way I’ve been living, it must’ve had a good reason.  I AM trying to grow two jedi masters here and the real goal is to be healthy, not to stick to a generalized chart of averages no matter what the cost.  This is easy enough for me to say NOW, but you KNOW that if I could hit that damn chart of averages I’d be happy dancing my way through this whole internet blog right now.  Hell, it might even be enough to make me not weep over the dreadful Bachman disgrace that my district insists on putting me through each election.

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