Parenting and gender norms: part two

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I’ve had a few more thoughts about parenting and gender norms since writing this post. Not terribly long ago, a friend of mine shared a photo of her young son on Facebook, and in it he was wearing a dress and playing with a toy toolbox and a truck. She mentioned something about “raising a feminist boy” and it made me wonder if gender neutrality or gender non-conformity is synonymous with feminism (in this case, anyway). When I asked, she replied:

I think it’s feminist because we’re teaching him that there is no one right way to be a boy and hence no one right way to be a girl. To me, that is very feminist. I suppose it’s also gender neutral, but I personally embrace the term feminist, and it feels more political and more intentional. I think also not denigrating when he chooses things that are more traditionally feminine such as dresses or saying he wants to be a ballet dancer feels feminist to me because we’re not suggesting those things are “bad” by not allowing that choice.

I really like that answer, and it made me think. In the week or so before this exchange, Jonah asked me if boys could wear dresses. I told him that they could, and he asked, “Can I have a construction vehicle dress?” I told him that was kind of a tall order but that I’d see what I could do. I’d never even seen a construction vehicle dress, and I do all of the kids’ shopping.

When any of the kids do something somewhat gender-non-conforming of their own accord, I’m often both thrilled that they haven’t been trapped in a social construct yet, but also a tiny bit concerned that we could be doing them a disservice by not telling them the truth about America. It reminds me a little bit of a conversation that happened at work between two colleagues, both men of color, about the best way to prepare young people of color for the world. One of them felt that to teach young people of color how to behave in a way that will grant them acceptance by a white supremacist society (as opposed to affirming their authentic selves and culture) is an act of racism, while the other colleague felt that not doing so, not teaching them how to “play the game” and stay alive in the country that they live in right now, is an act of violence. It’s not nearly that extreme, of course, whether I allow our young boys to wear dresses, but for some people in some places gender non-conformity can ultimately be a matter of life or death.

I’m impressed when others don’t react with as much rigidity as I might expect. We took the kids shoe shopping awhile back and as we walked in, Jonah spotted some glittery sneakers on a sale table out front. They were in the girls’ section and weren’t his size. When it came time for him to be fitted and find some shoes, I asked the woman helping us if they had anything glittery in his size. She said, “I’m sure we do. They might be pink.” I told her that wasn’t a concern, and she went off into the back room to find him some options. She returned before long with five or six pairs of glittery girls’ shoes, even going so far as to bring some silver mary janes. We didn’t end up buying any, since the ones he loved were light-up sneakers and Kristin hates light-up shoes of all sorts (she thinks they’re tacky and distracting and I can’t disagree completely). But the fact that the salesperson didn’t bat an eye at our request, and that she enthusiastically brought him so many options was so heartwarming somehow. It gave me hope for America.

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Jude in Vivi’s bathing suit, which he emptied her entire dresser to find

Longer ago, before the construction vehicle dress request, we told the kids that we were all going to be attending a wedding reception (it’s this Saturday, actually). All of them were excited, and Jonah said something off hand about getting a fancy dress for the occasion. I was surprised, because despite all of this philosophizing I’m doing, I don’t think that Jonah identifies as anything other than a boy, full stop. He’s never implied otherwise. What I know to be true, however, is that his only experience with weddings and wedding receptions is seeing his moms wear dresses to attend them. Here’s another example of that: I took him shopping last night to buy an outfit for this weekend’s reception, and he initially told me that he didn’t want to get an outfit because he doesn’t like white. I had to explain that guests at a wedding can actually wear any color they want, and that yes brides often wear white but not always, and they usually wear dresses but not always. He seemed relieved, and ultimately picked out a cool button up shirt with space designs on it and some bright colored shorts.

So much of what they believe about the world is because of what we show them and tell them, and when we tell them what we want them to believe about gender not being restrictive, we aren’t telling them the whole story. Jonah is starting to pick up on it, as all of them would have eventually. One night in the bathtub he said to me, “Mama D? I think that maybe there are girl colors and boy colors just a little bit.” I could tell that he added that diminutive out of concern for my feelings. I asked him why he thought that, and he told me that it was because every girl at his school loves pink and purple. Hoping to poke holes in that theory, I started naming off girls one by one, but I don’t think we ever found one who doesn’t love those classic colors. I tried to explain why that might be, the way toys and clothes are marketed, but I didn’t have a well-thought-out answer in the moment. It made me realize that I need to start getting into the nuances of why we believe what we believe, and why others might disagree, and the effect that has on people. We don’t encourage colorblindness, so I suppose we ought to move beyond the idea that gender isn’t a thing.

One of the things that occurred to me during that Facebook exchange with my friend weeks ago was how much the oppression and degradation of women also oppresses men and boys. I hadn’t given that a ton of thought before. All of our wondering about whether or not it’s OK for Jonah to want a dress or glittery sneakers wouldn’t even be a thing if traditionally feminine choices and qualities weren’t so looked down upon. Don’t believe me? Ask yourself whether most people would worry at all over a little girl who preferred pants and trucks and the color red, over dresses and dolls and the color pink. I know people who actively celebrate those kinds of preferences, they almost push them. Being a girl who likes “boy” things is completely OK, but boys who like “girl things? Not so much.

What I discovered following the construction vehicle dress request, was that it’s actually relatively easy to find cool, progressive, somewhat gender-norm-bucking clothes for girls these days, but it’s nearly impossible to find something for a boy. You just have to buy it from the girls’ section, and even then a dress with construction vehicles on it is not easy to come by. If you’ve never searched the web for a dress for a boy, and tried to decide for yourself what the least “girly” dress style might be for a boy, you can’t even imagine what mental acrobatics it requires. By this point I’d decided that I was fine buying him the dress, it was a matter of finding one. I found one on Etsy that was specifically marketed as a “unisex play dress” but while I loved the concept and the politics of it all, I thought that the cut of the dress was actually sort of ugly. I finally found one I liked on some random site I’d never heard of, purple with yellow construction vehicles of all kinds. I was excited about it and showed it to Jonah with Vivi sitting nearby. Immediately she said, “I want a truck dress!”. As I showed him the options, he realized that they also sold shirts and pants in the same pattern, and he told me he’d rather have a tank top and leggings. “Are you sure?” I asked him, “You can have a dress if you want one.” I was worried that maybe he’d picked up on our hesitation somewhere. He told me he was sure.

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So Vivi got her truck dress, and Jonah got a matching shirt and pants, and I need to strengthen my kid-accessible explanation of feminism and sexism and why it’s important to think for yourself.

Enjoying weekend day trips: Frederik Meijer Gardens & Silver Beach

We’ve squeezed a lot of fun into the last week or so, including some things I didn’t photograph well or at all, so they didn’t get any air time. Last week Monday we were lucky enough to crash a Brendan James private house show. He and his band play tiny shows at people’s homes between their venue shows while on tour, and there happened to be one about 30 minutes from here. Despite never having met the homeowners or anyone else at the show (well, except for Brendan), we were allowed to attend and ended up with front-row outdoor couch seats, which was amazing. It was definitely one of the best live music experiences I’ve had.

The next night was the 4th of July, and while I feel kind of “meh” about the celebration of genocide and slavery that underpin the origins of the country, I love fireworks in a big way. I even love neighborhood fireworks, even on random summer nights, and yes, even when my kids are sleeping. I love them because when I was a kid, “big” fireworks weren’t legal in Michigan (that has since changed and grouchy people hate it), but every year my dad would go to a particular liquor store over in the neighborhood where his office used to be, and he would buy illegal fireworks from Indiana that they secretly sold in the back room. Sure, we spent some 4th of July nights in South Haven watching the official fireworks over Lake Michigan, but most of my 4th memories are of amateur fireworks shows put on by my dad in the elementary school parking lot across from our house. This year I wanted to take the kids to the lake (because it really is fun to be there with tons of people and glow necklaces and all of that energy, and to see the show over the lake) but ultimately we decided that it was going to be a hassle, and we were talked into heading to a church parking lot where the country club fireworks are visible across the road. It was actually a lot of fun, and my dad even came through with a few rockets and roman candles of his own. Every kid there was crowded around him, and our kids seemed to love it.

This weekend we ended up taking a couple of unplanned day trips that turned out to be absolutely lovely. On Saturday we checked out the Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids. We’d been told that they have a really nice children’s garden, but it absolutely exceeded my expectations. The boys loved the Great Lakes water tables with boats, Vivi would have played in a little fountain all day, and they went wild in an amazing treehouse structure that made me think of Swiss Family Robinson (although I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually read or seen that, so that association may be misguided).

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There was a lovely old barn in the farm garden, and naturally Vivienne wanted to climb the ladder up to a beam. There weren’t a lot of people around and we didn’t see a sign that told us explicitly not to climb it (although I’m guessing that wasn’t their aim), so we let her go. She’s always been such a climber, so nimble and fearless, and she scrambled right to the top.

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A family came through and seemed surprised to see such a tiny person up there. We mentioned how fearless she is, and they said something along the lines of, “Watch out when she’s a teenager!” We’ve heard that before, but this time when the family walked away Kristin pointed out that no one would ever say that about a little boy at the top of a ladder. I love how brave she is. So brave, in fact, that when we asked Jonah if he wanted to climb, he asked Vivi if she would rub her head against his so that he could have some of her bravery (they did it, but I didn’t get a photo – it was adorable though). He only made it up one or two rungs before he was too afraid, but Vivi did it three or four times, slapping the beam at the top each time to make her success known.

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On Sunday the day was actually off to a rough start; we have a tendency to keep the kids out late in pursuit of these adventures, and then we act surprised the next day when their behavior is out of control. Kristin took the twins to see some live music at a park while I went grocery shopping with Jonah who hadn’t exactly earned the field trip. In the late afternoon however, when I was feeling grouchy and sad about the way the day was unfolding, K convinced me to pack everyone up and drive to St. Joseph (about an hour away) to the beach and the splash pad. It completely turned the day around for me.

I expected the kids to be super into the splash pad since they’d loved the fountain the previous day, but they were a little tentative. Only Vivienne really got into it, although she tried hard to physically move Jude towards the water.

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See the photo above? Every so often, the vertical spouts shut off and all of the kids (and some adults) run into the center of the fountain to wait for giant water cannons to shoot into the middle. That’s what’s happening in the photo above. There’s so much water that you can hardly see the big group of people standing in the center. The first time it happened, Vivi and Jude and Jonah just stood back and watched, but the second time Vivi ran to the center to join everyone. Except that I don’t think she really knew what was going to happen, and as soon as the water rained down on her she began to sob hysterically, but didn’t know how to get out. Kristin the hero ran into the downpour fully clothed and carried her out.

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Believe it or not she wanted to keep playing for a few minutes after that, but before long we headed to the beach for some playground time.

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We aren’t big beach people really, because none of us love getting a lot of sun (hence the 6:00 p.m. trip to the beach), but we went in Charleston in April and we went to Lake Michigan last summer when my sister and the kids were in town, but this is really the first time I’ve seen the kids enjoy the beach in this way. Jude would have thrown handfuls of wet sand into the lake all night long. Vivi loved wading into the water again and again, and Jonah just seemed to take it all in, alternately playing in the sand, dipping his toes into the water, and climbing the lifeguard stand.

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Jude actually fell from that lifeguard stand after making it up another rung or two, which was pretty scary, but luckily he was OK. We all headed towards the bluff for pizza and made it a very late but beautiful evening. Jonah asked if next time we could go to “the beach with the pink house” (North Beach in South Haven) so I’m sure that’s coming up for a future weekend.

The sandbox, and an affordable DIY sandbox cover

The one element of the swing set that hasn’t been complete since I posted about it was the sandbox. I know that there are a lot of strong feelings among parents about sand boxes and even sand at playgrounds. Lots of people seem to feel that they’re dirty and full of bacteria since they can easily become litter boxes for neighborhood cats, and some parents just don’t want the sand coming into their houses in every shoe and fold of clothing day after day (the struggle is real). I can understand both of those arguments, but for me the tradeoffs are worth it because our kids love sand play so much. I want to make our backyard a place where they have lots of options for entertaining themselves, and giving them a great sandbox as an option was important to me. Some good friends of ours in New York have a wonderful sandbox that was SUCH a hit with all of the kids, so that was my vision.

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Our friends’ sandbox in New York, and my reason for wanting a great one

When we chose our swing set plans, I chose it in large part for the size of the fort deck, which also turns out to be the size of the sandbox below. We went with 6’x6′ because I wanted to make sure that all three kids had plenty of space to play. Once my dad completed construction I figured that we could get sand in there within a couple of days, the easy part, right? We ordered a pallet full of “play sand” in bags from Home Depot, only to find a California 65 warning label that informed us that the sand contained known cancer-causing chemicals that were proven to cause organ damage. Naturally we were alarmed. As it turns out, silica (which is in all sand, more or less) is dangerous when inhaled, so the safety of play sand has a lot to do with the particle size. We talked to a number of people we trusted and decided to return the bagged sand to Home Depot (they were very gracious about picking it up and even refunded our delivery fee) and instead have washed sand delivered by a local landscaping company. Who knows, it could be exactly the same stuff, but psychologically it felt better. We also figured that if sand is dangerous, it’s the same stuff we played in as kids, so how awful could this really be?

We had one cubic yard delivered, dumped into our driveway, and borrowed a neighbor’s garden cart to transport it to the back. A cubic yard of sand is a lot of sand, y’all.

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Jonah was a big helper. He was totally into helping me shovel the sand into the cart and then into the sandbox.

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To try to avoid the neighborhood litter box problem I made a cover for it. I found a number of places that sell custom sandbox covers, but they cost roughly $80 and I just wasn’t willing to spend that on it. Instead, I bought a roll of affordable shade fabric that came with a lacing needle and cord, two six-foot pieces of PVC with end caps, and put it together in an evening after the kids went to bed. It cost around $30 total and it works great. Even better, I ended up using the same material to provide a barrier between the dirt and the sand (so that the kids wouldn’t mix the two if they dig all the way down). That saved me from having to buy a huge roll of landscaping material when I only needed six feet.

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Sewing two ends of the shade fabric onto the PVC was easy, and the needle and cord that it came with was perfect.

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The cover lays across the sandbox nicely, with the PVC weighing it down on two ends. It’s lightweight enough that it’s easy to roll up when the kids want to play, and it’s breathable, which means rain will go through rather than pooling on top and causing a mess when we want to remove it, and the sand can dry out beneath as needed. I’m really happy with the way it turned out, and especially the price.

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The kids are loving it and have spent a lot of time in it over the past two days, and we look forward to sharing it with friends.

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Summer carnival fun

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There are so many things that feel like iconic pieces of the Michigan summer childhood experience, and carnivals are one of those for me. I’m weirdly ambivalent about them; on one hand, I have a number of happy childhood memories from fairs and carnivals from one summer to the next, and I get genuinely excited about taking our kids to share some of those same experiences. On the other hand, almost as soon as we arrive I’m reminded of a slice of midwestern culture that I’m not exactly keen to align myself with (a snobbiness that has caused me to utter the phrase, “I’m not sure that I want our kids to grow up to be Michigan-people” before). I won’t try to describe exactly what I mean, but if you asked Kristin she’d tell you that it has something to do with the prevalence of calf tattoos. My dad took Jonah to see a monster truck show at the speedway tonight and reported back that the crowd was much of the same, which I could have guessed.

Even so, as soon as I heard about the Battle Creek Air Show coming up I put it on the calendar and told K that we were going, and invited my parents to join us because every one of my carnival and air show memories includes my parents, of course. On this particular night there weren’t actually going to be any flight demonstrations (I had mixed feelings because they were doing a big reenactment of the bombing of Pearl Harbor complete with pyrotechnics and I’m not big on the glorification of war, so I figured it made more sense to attend on an evening without all of that). There were supposed to be hot air balloons, which we love and got to see at a different event last summer, as well as some motorcycle stunts and a lumberjack demonstration (pure Michigan!). As it turned out, the weather was rainy so they didn’t end up flying the balloons, and we missed the motorcycles, but we did see the lumberjacks (Jonah enjoyed the axe throwing).

Mostly though, we hung out at the carnival: eating elephant ears and corn dogs, watching the kids grin through ride after ride, and being reminded how much of our own joy comes from watching their joy, no matter where we are. And some of those rides? I swear I remember riding the exact same ones when I was a kid. They didn’t have the giant slide with the burlap sacks, but it was still a pretty good lineup.

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The rain didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits, and we didn’t get home till roughly 10:00 p.m. Jonah would have ridden those rides all night if we’d let him.