So on Sunday at church Mark was holding Joel talking to some strange woman, and when he returned to me he was like, “Haha. She just asked me if Joel was a boy or a girl.” And I was like, “Really?” And Mark was like, “Well, it isn’t surprising. Joel’s outfit is pretty asexual…”
And I was like, “Whaaaaa?!? You mean gender neutral, right?” And he insisted that he meant asexual, so we then had a discussion over brunch about the differences between gender and sexuality, because I had to educate him, and finally I just told him to google the effing word, and so he did, at which point he agreed that he indeed meant gender neutral and that I am much smarter than he is in a lot of ways.
Speaking of gender neutral, I try to be aware that we shouldn’t impose too many gender stereotypes on Joel, as it is completely fine if girls play with trucks and boys play with ponies, and everyone should learn about science and math and engineering, but at the same time, we don’t necessarily shy away from buying Joel things that are traditionally boy, especially because he is our first living child, and, best we can tell, he is a boy. But Mark took it all to another level and bought this book for Joel called ABC’s for Boys, and it cracks me up, because aren’t the ABC’s for girls too? And the book includes pictures of airplanes and trucks as if these things are only for boys, but it’s kind of endearing, as the first page of the book includes a note, “Hand drawn for my kids in heaven.”
Our new house cleaner seems to be amazeballs. (She used a toothpick and a toothbrush to clean our master bathroom for like two hours.) I was surprised to learn that many of her clients ask her to hide in a back bedroom when they have visitors so said visitors won’t know they employ a house cleaner and be so enamored at the notion that they can “do it all,” including keeping a perfect house. Here everyone is trying to maintain an aura of perfection, and meanwhile I’m shouting from the rooftops, “I GIVE UP ON SO MANY THINGS ESPECIALLY CLEANING!!!”
I recently read a novel called Truly Madly Guilty by Liane Moriarity, and it was about (spoiler alert) a child who *almost* died and about how, consequently, the characters’ lives were in shambles, and I just couldn’t relate in the least, and it also made me kind of furious.
The other day a co-worker told me that another co-worker was going to put his dog to sleep. She told me that when he told her, she almost started crying. And upon hearing this, I almost started laughing – not at the dog, but at the notion that she would cry over this. Sometimes I think I might be a terrible person…
This morning I had a conversation that confirmed to me that I really should just hide in a closet for the rest of my life and never be social or venture into public ever again. I rode the elevator with someone who has four living children and has never lost one, and who also knows about Matthew. He asked, “How’s your little tyke?” And I was like, “Oh, he’s fine.” And he was like, “Now you just have to have three more, and you’ll be just like me!!!”
And there were three things I wanted to say to this…
1) Two plus three isn’t four.
2) You and I will never be alike, unless, of course, I have TWO more, and also one of your children dies.
3) Fuck you dipshit.
But instead I kind of just grunted.