i wonder, if when I was taking my feminisms classes in college, if they had brought in some mothers with young children to talk about their view of feminism, what depth it would have brought to the discussions. Could I possibly have understood? empathized? Stored away the knowledge of a woman's role in the family and been less shocked by my reality? or is it all too dependent on experience? is there no way to learn from others? or- does knowing change the reality? make one more accepting, less fraught with resentment and dismay?
Sunstruck penguin ... There is another blog I've been reading in which the mother of three has just begun to paint again after the youngest hit 2 1/2 . She is excited and happily 'done' with the creation of more children. . . I don't know if we're done, I suspect we may look at that in the next six months or so, I am feeling like maybe i'm finally learning how to handle two... how to fit in another? I've only just seen glimpses of myself these last years and generally speaking, I'm fine in those moments of 'glimpse', fine with myself and who I am. It is the quiet moments in bed before all hell breaks loose (on the days when we even get those..), the moments when I sit in the bathroom at bath time and really look and watch my 3.5 year old sitting nakedly in front of the mirror wearing a helmet and telling me he is a helicopter driver. The helmet completely covers his face and his tiny body is just energy at its most kinetic and static simultaneously. The alighting, a quick passing-by of peace, thats what those moments are for me...
Moments when I can hear the poetry in my husband's thought processes, and truly hear it! over the din of complex resentments and dismally repetitive patterns.
I regularly forget that these moments exist, from minute to minute, I forget.
COLOURED TELEVISION, by Danzy Senna
9 hours ago
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