I’m a single mother of girly girls so I’m fluent in lipstick, Bratz dolls and emotional meltdowns. I don’t speak a word of Transformers, Thomas the tank engine or Minecraft, my gals are not interested. Girl children like to talk a lot, every thought has to be workshopped, discussed and dissected. It’s emotionally exhausting but I don’t think I could have been a mother to boy children. Too many trains and trucks and cars and not enough cross dressing and emotional awareness. I love my gurl kids even though they wear me out. My job makes me grateful to have well children whether they are pink or blue or rainbow, but I do believe that if more girls were in positions of power we would have less conflict in the world, less war, less militaristic decision making. So boys, you’ve had your turn, there’s a few of us gals who are tired of the world turning into an angry hate-filled space; one day our girls are going to take over and change the dominant paradigm forever.
In late 2001 I was pregnant with my second daughter and I went to have an ultrasound. I’ll never forget the words of the sonographer who looked at the images of my tiny girl on the screen and said, “What a beautiful baby.” Yes, she is, inside and out. Happy 12th birthday, my gorgeous horse daughter Moo. I love you.
Happy birthday to my brave, hilarious, whacky little stunt woman, the girl who told me just the other day, “You don’t actually just grow mum, fairies help you grow.” I’m so glad I am your mama.