“If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.”

Not all people got the warm & fuzzies from my last blog post. An email I received said this:

“If you’re so intelligent, why don’t you get that having children is never beneficial to a woman & only enslaves them? Having children only ever benefits the man and makes the woman subservient to him”

This wasn’t a singular sentiment. I received 2 other similarly worded emails over the weekend, the intent seemingly meant to enlighten me, a poor,enslaved Breeder.  I am still trying to imagine the message that accompanied the mass-emailed link-sending spree that brought multiple hits to that one entry.  “Can you believe how stupid this woman is? Imagine a woman subjecting herself to such patriarchy in this day and age!”.

Coincidentally (maybe even ironically), I have been immersed recently in the life of Emma Goldman and her writings. I love Emma Goldman to bits and pieces.I’m sure I could find a more high brow and intellectual way to express my admiration for Goldman but sometimes the ordinary way of saying things  gets the point across so much more efficiently.

At the time that she was spreading her message about anarchy, feminism,free love and social change, birth control was illegal. Like Margaret Sanger (who I have professed my love before here on this blog), Emma was passionate about women having control of their own reproductive health. Like Margaret Sanger, Emma  worked closely as a midwife with women who threw themselves down flights of stairs to end an unwanted pregnancy and tended to worn-out,exhausted mothers who were defeated by multitudes of children and poverty. Like Margaret Sanger, Emma Goldman was arrested for distributing birth control and information for women to gain control of their own body and access reproductive freedom.

Emma suffered from “womens troubles” and instead of having surgery that could correct her problems, she chose to do nothing and became infertile. She had a mission in life  and saw children as being something that would hold her back and keep her from achieving this mission.

In contrast, another woman of that era, raised 7 children while publishing a newspaper that outraged many and  fighting  to change laws that equalized women and men, including the right to vote. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was a mother of a large brood and never let it impede her goals and vision for the society she wanted her children and grandchildren to inherit. Her husband became her partner in this effort, taking equal responsibility for all tasks involved in raising a family, from changing diapers to doing dishes. If she wanted men & women to be equal, equality had to start at home. Mr. Stanton should be prized as a pioneering Male Feminist.

Each woman  chose what they felt they could handle, determined to see a change in this world that went far beyond gender and reproductive status. Emma Goldman, the supreme goddess of feminism, said, “A woman MUST be free to decide the number of children she is to bring into the world!”.

5 was a good number for me. That’s what I chose. If I chose to have one child or none, I’m sure I’d have the respect of militant women who call themselves feminist but I really don’t care. To quote Emma Goldman, “True liberation begins in a woman’s soul”.

I am liberated. I wonder about women who scream so loudly and try so hard to get me to listen to and adhere to their vision of feminism. Did they grow up watching an oppressed mother give birth to child after child she didn’t love for the sake of religion? Were they made to feel they were less than a woman for not longing for maternal bliss? I don’t know what their issues are but I cannot see that they have found liberation within themselves. If you have internal liberation, you are more likely to be satisfied with your own state of being and have less concern for others. To condemn the choice of motherhood so adamantly almost seems like perhaps someone might not feel too terribly secure about themselves…or maybe their own ability to find the balance between  being  a mother and a person.

I don’t like to use labels to identify myself but feminism is one I have used from time to time. I don’t fit this picture in some minds, obviously but my view of feminism is  perhaps different. It means that I just want to have the same opportunities as a women that men are provided. I don’t necessarily WANT to take advantage of all those opportunities – I just want to make sure they are there. If not for me, than for my daughters. I want to be treated the same as a man. I want social stereotypes and gender roles  disbanded. Yeah, i’m choosing to live in a pretty stereotypical “woman’s role” but so what? That’s what I choose.Isn’t that what this “battle” is all about…making sure women have the right to choose.

Essentially, what I am saying to all those women out there who dare to judge and criticize a woman for being proud of her “Crotch Trophies” and the institution of Motherhood- kindly just please fuck off. Worry about what’s going on in your own womb.  Mine is pretty content.

Answers

Answers to the Questions

Basic stuff: your kids ages,where you live, how old are you….that kind of stuff!

Ok. I’m 35. I live in Central New York. I have 3 girls and 2 boys. My oldest is almost 19. I have twin girls who just turned 12. My youngest daughter is almost 8 and the littlest monster will be 4 in April.  Good enuff?

How’d you get started in the open relationship? What made you want to do it as opposed to a more traditional type?

I don’t remember the exact sequeway into it. It was something I had been thinking about for awhile. I’m a quiet thinker – I usually have a lot going on in my head,working things out and don’t share any of it out loud until I’m sure i have a complete picture of how I want to share it. I think I remember that he had a co-worker who was very flirty and he said something jokingly ,like “I could have her if I wanted her.” and I think my reply was ,”Ok ,so go for it”, which opened up the dialog and set the groundwork for the rules we would adhere to to help preserve the sanctitiy of our own personal relationship.

It’s funny,thinking back because at the time, when I shared what we were doing with friends, there were many people who were flat out angry …at HIM. It was my idea! People automatically figured that he was some jerk who wanted to have his cake and eat it too and was forcing me into this new lifestyle. Quite the opposite – he was the one with many reservations and needed convincing.

Also, people assumed that our relationship was in trouble and we were doing it either to save ourselves and add spice to things or that we were working towards going our seperate ways. Contrary to this belief, we were actually at an extremly strong point in our relationship. I felt that our relationship was very secure & unbreakable and would be less likely to disintegrate if this didn’t work.  So, it didn’t make sense to many people. WHY, if your relationship is that good? It had more to do with my evolving perspective about monogamy and other societal rules that I felt did not apply to me and went against the natural order of human nature. It wasn’t about US, it was about breaking down walls.

Do you ever get jealous and does the “hubs?” If so, how do you/he handle it…if not, how have you (and he) come to the point that you aren’t worried that the other might find someone else?

He is most definitely the jealous type, embracing the whole Alpha Male role and the machismo bullshit that goes along with it.  Sheesh…I mentioned the other say that I wanted to go to a music festival and was thinking of going with this guy we know and he was not so keen on that idea, even if my intention was that the concert-going experience would be strictly platonic.

Now, if it’s another woman, then he doesn’t seem to have that same jealousy, which I think is ridiculous but what do I know?  He is working on this. I know he’s trying but he has insecurities I just do not have. I don’t worry about being left for someone else, but he does. It’s illogical for him to have those feelings but I still have to constantly reassure him that I’m not going to throw away nearly 10 years and run off with some other guy. The whole point of polyamory is that you get to share your life with someone you feel is your soul mate AND complement the relationship with others that fit into the scheme of things (and possibly an additional soul mate,even. I cannot rule out the possibility that we all might have more than one  soul mate, if we’re open to seeing the possibility).

I, on the other hand, am some freak of nature who does not experience jealousy in the typical sense. I feel what is referred to as compersion. If I do have feelings of jealousy, it isn’t because he’s with someone else. More accurately, it’s envy that I feel. I envy the time he is spending away from home and that he’s having an actual adult conversation and more, and I am not.

Did you accept the friend request on Facebook from the old boyfriend??? Have you talked to him at all?

I did. We had a couple of message exchanges. He made sure to tell me that he still lives in Upstate NY, about a 4 hour drive from me. *wink wink* He said I look exactly the same as I did then (he hasn’t seen my ass)  and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he looks exactly like his Dad did (a fat Italian ex mafiosa who looks like he might  be in witness protection). He has 4 kids ,all  boys AND a grandchild. Kind of funny because I remember being teased by my friend ,”If you ever marry him, you’re gonna have 10 kids and have to go to church on Sundays.”. H a! I ended up having more kids than he did! But at least I’m not a Grandma yet And I most definitely don’t do church

What is your favorite part of being a mother?

Now that I am a mother of an adult and seen the full spectrum of growth, I have to say that my favorite thing is seeing what my children become and looking forward to seeing what they will do with the life I gave them.

Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley Screw his head off and drink like a vampire

Facebook Friend Request

The last time I saw him, he was walking down State St. ,carrying a TV. His arms were no longer the skinny,shadow of a boy I remembered but sinewy and heavily muscled. We stopped with recognition, sharing simultaneous “Oh,wow…hey,how are you!?”. At his side was  a girl, nondescript and suddenly grasping for his free hand like her own hand  was a land claim stake ,needing to puncture a claim into fleshy territory.

We tried to move on,each in our own direction but found we had both pivoted to face each other, walking backwards away from each other. “So, you’re not in the Army anymore or what?”, I yelled. “Nah.Well, yeah…I’m in the Reserves but otherwise…I’m around! ” He said the last with a wink  and we both turned back around to head our own way. I glanced back for a parting look to see the blank face of the TV screen staring back,opaque & dismissive.  The girl’s mouth was  aimed at his ear, firing the words , “Who is she?”

Just someone I used to know, was probably the answer he gave but if he’d told her the whole story he would have said, After school, we’d go to my house. My mom would be downstairs in the kitchen,crooning away to Rosemary Clooney. I’d say we were going upstairs, to watch some movies or something. My parents had this thing about ‘respecting privacy’, so I’d just get a nod.  We’d lay on the bed and I’d tell her stupid things ,like, I know it sounds corny but your eyes look just like the ocean on a sunny day, and she’d say that she thought my eyes looked like coffee before the milk was added and they made her feel just as warm and full. Our tongues would entwine and out hands would go everywhere, groping   to try to feel everything at once. She’s open her legs and wrap them around me and she’d start to grind. Then she’d moan close in my ear and I’d reach over and turn the stereo on ,blaring  Dead Kennedys so no one would hear but that’d just make her grind harder , frenzied & frantic. So,I’d turn it up louder. My dad would pound on the door, “Joseph! Turn it down now!”.  Shhh, baby…you have to be quiet,I’d tell her and she’d promise to try. Her hand would wiggle it’s way down the front of my pants and mine would disappear up her skirt,into her panties. I’d look down at her with lust-lidded eyes,fingering her and say,”God, you’re so wet.” She’d pull my head down, fingers snaked through my hair and nibbled a whisper,”I want you. Let’s just do it.Please?” . My face in her hair,I’d groan.”We can’t,we can’t…” . She was barely 14 & I was already 18 and besides, she was a virgin and I didn’t think it was right for her first time to go down like this. Our hands would try to do what each other wanted most. And then my mom would knock at the door and yell, “Joey, dinners ready!”. Commmming,Ma….and we’d both laugh hysterically , then try to stifle it because I knew my Mom wasn’t too dumb to pick up on the double-entendre if she heard our insane laughing from the other side of the door.

She half-believed the rumors that my dad was ex-mafia and under witness protection and was nervous and chatty around him, a side I never saw anywhere else. He adored her, in a way that pissed my sister off. He’d say, “For christsake, Joseph… don’t let your little girlfriend sit in that chair. That chair’s crap. Pretty  and  smart girl like this one here, you treat her right.”, and he’d make my sister take the crap chair. My mother would shush him,”Joe, don’t talk to him like that. You’ll embarrass him in front of his little girlfriend.”…but it was already done. She’d seen that the man thought I couldn’t do a goddamn thing right. She’d smile sympathy,though and I knew it meant she thought he was wrong and that I should think he was wrong ,too.

She was always stealing my coolest T-shirts but I couldn’t complain much. My Black Flag tee looked better on her than it ever could on me and I made sure to tell her so.

Then one day I told her that after graduation, I was enlisting in the army. She picked up a copy of Siddharta laying on the bed, throwing it  at me as she screamed, “Fucking moron!”. She  raged out the door ,down the hall,down the stairs, out the front door,  knocking over my mother’s statuette of praying hands she bought at the Immaculate Conception gift shop, shattering it into unfixable pieces. Out of my life.

That’s who that girl was.

[blog title from "A Growing Boy Needs His Lunch" by Dead Kennedys]

I’m only a woman Of flesh and bone

I was tagged by Stella to list 7 facts about myself.

1. I’ve never watched Battlestar Gallactica
2. I’ve never eaten at Taco Bell
3. I’ve never been to a Dave Matthews concert
4. I’ve never left this continent
5. I’ve never owned a llama
6. I’ve never sold a child to gypsies, even though I’ve been tempted to
7. I’ve never had a manicure

[title from "I Never" by Rilo Kiley]

And Neil Young always claimed that Sweet Home Alabama was one of his favorite songs. And legend has it that he was an honorary pall bearer at Ronnie’s funeral… such is the Duality of the Southern Thing

I am in such a weird funk right now. All I can seem to manage is meme-ish things but hey, I pick good memes,right?

Wednesday Media Mix

Listen: What’s your favorite recent musical discovery?

Fleet Foxes I’m not all that impressed some days with Rolling Stone magazine but they recently said that Fleet Foxes was a blend of The Beach Boys, Band of Horses, Animal Collective and Crosby,Still & Nash. That nails it, right there so they got something right.

(Listen to: Tiger Mountain Peasant Song by Fleet Foxes )

Watch: Which movie best reflects your romantic life?

True Romance? Ok,no. (That’s the first movie that popped into my head because the other night I had this weird ass dream that I had another baby. It was a girl and I named her Alabama. The baby wasn’t really a baby,though – she was already a little girl. I’m not sure how that works but I’m just grateful it was only a dream. It’s been awhile since I saw that movie but  it was I immediately thought of when I woke up because of Alabama,.I have no idea what sparked that dream but I have been listening to Drive-By Truckers a lot recently and that’s very Alabama-ish)

(Listen to :Three Great Alabama Icons)

All right,seriously, I’m going to say Bus Stop .Boy with blinders on meets Less-than-angelic Girl and decides she is IT for him. He pushes and pushes and pushes her to be his forever and always and she resists until finally she figures out that she’d be stupid to let him go.

Read: When was the last time you were in a library?

I live almost right across the street from our library and I go nearly every day.

[title from "The Three Great Alabama Icons", by Drive-By Truckers]

Jupiter is feeling meme-ish

Sunday Stealing: The “All About Me” Meme

Complete each sentence.

I am: looking forward to the day I can sleep past 7 a.m. on a weekend. This morning was close…7:05

I think:the point of thought-provoking films is pointless because the people who need to see them the most, are people who won’t ever take it upon themselves to watch something that makes them think.

I know: more about Jim Morrison than anyone probably should know.

I have: a ton of projects waiting for me to finish. First,I need to stop coughing up chunks of lung. It feels like such a time suck to be sick. Wasted life…

I wish: I was a better verbal communicator…or that people would just freakin’ LISTEN to me

I hate:that Katy Perry song…”I kissed a girl”. Let me know when something more exciting happens,katy.And when you can make music worthy of listening to

I miss: the days of not peeing my pants a little every time I sneeze.All I want for Christmas is some ben-wa balls

I fear: the upcoming election.

I hear:the boy “reading” to himself in the living room.He’s reading “Little Blue and Little Yellow

I smell:the residuals of a skunk

I crave:a house and land with woods,fields and streams.And a pond

I search: every.single.morning. during the week for things that do not belong to me and I did not have last. “Where are my shoes!?” How am I supposed to know? I was not the one who was wearing them last.

I wonder: if it’s going to rain today? I have a ton of laundry to get caught up with. It would be nice if Mother Nature would cooperate so I can line dry it all

I regret: only one thing in my life

I love:that *clink clink* sound of things being sucked into the vacuum cleaner.It’s very satisfying and sounds like productivity in progress.

I ache:on my bottom. I still have a few bruises from being spanked the other night and I feel it whenever I shift in my seat to the left cheek

I am not: a napkin.

I believe: in ghosts and a lot of other unseen things. But not God.

I dance:only when forced to…or when I’ve had a few drinks

I sing: along to “Santeria” by Sublime every time it comes on. I can’t help it.

I cry: at inappropriate moments and never when it’s appropriate

I fight: way too much with The Man over stupid things like World of Warcraft. I hate being a WoW Widow

I win: at Scrabble using words like ‘baconed”

I lose: a lot of respect for people over their opinions that are based on ignorance and religious indoctrination

I never: want to be legally married. I’m just not sure I can do it.

I always: try to look for the positive points. It always could be worse,no matter how bad it seems. I could be living in Darfur or something shitty like that.

I confuse: my kids when I lift up my shirt and say, “What do you think?You think I should get my belly button pierced?”

I listen: to blues music coming from the bar next door and the neighbor guy talking to his cat when I sit in the backyard

I can usually be found: at home. I’m just an antisocial homebody.

I am scared: that this bronchitis is going to turn into something a lot more serious and we(meaning me and my family) will be royally screwed since I have no health insurance.

I need: to dye my hair back to being red.Even though blonde is my natural hair color, it doesn’t look right on me.

I am happy about: the kids’ “so far,so good” transition from homeschool to public school .

I imagine: there’s a mystical portal somewhere in this universe that leads to a special kind of place where all dead musicians and artists go when they die. Hendrix and Paganini play some wicked shit together. Bob Marley and Brad Nowell ….soul-wrenching stuff. Cobain looks on with contemplative sighs. Thinking beyond that scenario…well….. that should be it’s own novel. Graphic,most likely…..

Jupiter needs more bookshelves

Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house.  ~Henry Ward Beecher

As my Scramble scores on Facebook might indicate, my brain isn’t functioning up to par quite yet. I had planned to accompany this quote with a long story about a crazy ex-housemate-turned-lover who regarded books as “clutter” and nothing other than items to occupy valuable space. Instead of the long story,I’ll tell you the abbreviated version.

She owned 3 books – The Bible, a dictionary and Helpful Hints from Heloise. There may have been a cookbook or two in her possession,too but other than that…3 books. THREE books,people! How can anyone own just THREE books. Still to this day, it’s unfathomable.

The relationship did not last,needless to say. I almost might have overlooked the crazy but the lack of books was just plain weird .

Participating this week in Weekly Geeks #17:A Quote A Day

Jupiter tells Miss Manners to shut the hell up

“Policing ourselves to be less offensive to the
majority is to be part of our own oppression.”

-Jane Rule

Coming of age, I spoke out loud my beliefs on  war,racism and religion.My Grandfather was furious anytime I expressed any opinion that differed from his own and told me that less than 3% of the entire world population thought like I did. He used that exact figure. 3%. I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was wrong but it was small consolation after being cut down by the only father figure I ever had in my young life.

He  had an infamous temper,excused because it was “just the stubborn Irish in him”. I cannot completely embrace stereotypes of heritage and ancestry but whatever it was that raised his ire so much and made him refuse to back down from what HE felt to be the truth, I thankfully inherited it. There was no way I ever believed that even though my opinion might not be the major consensus, was it any less valuable and significant.

I hit backspace when I’m writing more often  than I care to admit . My tongue might have grooves permanently cut into it from biting it so much. I know…there’s some who might be surprised by this. I’m perceived as being outspoken and opinionated. Those people who see me that way are probably a little  horrified at the thought of what it is I’m holding in and not sharing (or spewing) with the rest of the world.

In motherhood, I’ve settled into this role of being a bit more socially acceptable and polite than the younger version of myself that was very raw,no holds barred and unrelentingly honest.  It doesn’t suit me so much, this self-censorship. .Every time I censor myself, it feels wrong. It feels like I’m denying a part of myself, disregarding who I am for someone else’s integrity and to  remain inoffensive .

I’m really too old for popularity contests. I don’t think I’m teaching my children anything valuable by denying myself freedom of expression.Oppression is exhausting .For these 3 reasons alone, I’m regressing to the younger,less mature and unfinished version of myself. I liked her a lot better.

Participating this week in Weekly Geeks #17:A Quote A Day

Jupiter loves tomatoes,fresh off the vine

Italy has the most exciting men. Survey says so.

I haven’t watched Family Feud since the other guy was the host.Not Richard Dawson.The other one,the one who killed himself. The volume is so loud I have to shout to hear myself but  Grandma can’t hear it otherwise.As it is, she has to keep asking,”What was the question?” “What’d he say.”.

TV rots your brain,studies show. Studies say, Watching game shows might actually improve your brain power,lessen the chances of memory loss. It opens pathways in the brain that otherwise get blocked and muddled because they aren’t used, like a Seasonal Use Only road.

Studies,surveys,blah blah blah. The problem is,studies are soulless and the problem with surveys is that sometimes they ask stupid people that don’t know the right answers. Any idiot knows, the most exciting men on earth live inside my head.

The kids raid the fridge as I spill the pills into my hand. A pink,a red,a blue, a white. Cylinder,sphere,circle,oval. God,if I ever need to take this many fucking pills, just shoot me,I think.My daughter peers into my hand and asks,”What are all those for.”

“I have no idea anymore,” weighing the question along with the pills in my palm. What good are they doing? Keeping her body going while her mind fades until she remembers nothing and no one. Useless,useless.

It’s stifling hot in the tiny apartment.The air smells acrid and bitter. She left the coffee pot on again and it congealed into a tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot. Every day,I turn the coffee pot off because she forgot. Every day,I open the windows. Grandma,leave the windows open.Let some fresh air in here.

“I’m cold.It’s cold in here”, Huddled under a blanket in the blue recliner that used to be Grandpa’s…that still is Grandpa’s,even though he’s dead…..in weather 88 degrees. Take these, I hand her  the pills,then water in a glass that’s been around since my childhood.

“My Keys? Well, I don’t know where my keys are.”

No no no….TAKE THESE. Take these pills.

“I don’t want to take them”, but she takes them anyway,like an obedient child.

“Do you like tomatoes? Look out the window! My tomato plant has tomatoes almost ready!”She speaks like a little one seeing the wonder of ripening tomatoes for the very first time. I lean out the window,satisfying her. One blushed tomato dangles expectantly on the vine.

“Nice”, I say.She says she can’t wait until it’s ripe.She loves fresh tomatoes,right off the vine.

I searched my memory,sure there was something there about tomatoes and my Grandma.I remember my Grandfather bringing tomatoes in from the garden,using his shirttail as a sling for transporting them inside.In the kitchen, he’d let them gently roll across the speckled Formica and my Grandma would rinse them in the big milk white ceramic sink. At dinnertime,there would  be slices of fresh tomato in a fancy dish,with cucumber spears alongside them. My Grandfather would spear them with his fork,laying them on his plate and marveling out loud with a “mmm.mmm…look at them.They turned out nice this year.”

5 minutes later,she asks me,”Do you like tomatoes?I have one almost ripe on the tomato plant someone gave me”. Then she wrinkles her nose as if she smelled something vile and says,”I don’t like tomatoes.Blech!I never have.”

When the tomatoes are ripe, I’ll take them home with me.

Jupiter writes to Dr. Phil

Dear Dr. Phil,

While traipsing around the blogosphere yesterday, I read that you were seeking stories from homebirthers.I clicked on the link provided by the blogger and was a little confused to find a form that asks only questions related to regretting a homebirth.

Now,I don’t like to jump to conclusions,Dr. Phil …but it appears to me that you’re planning a show focusing on the negative aspects of homebirthng. As a woman who has had a wonderful homebirthing experience (I will spare you the details since you seem uninterested in hearing about it), it concerns me that a mainstream television show with a wide viewing audience comprised primarily of women would choose to show only the ‘cons’ of such a demographically relevant issue.

It would be a huge disservice to women to present a partial sampling of information regarding homebirthing. Sharing stories that focus only on bad experiences perpetuate fear and ignorance about birthing options. As I am confident  the Fact Checkers in your employ can confirm, homebirthing is a viably safe birthing option with many more pros  than cons. I implore you to aim for at the very least a healthy balance of representation and allow the powerful voices of women who will never regret their homebirthing decision to be heard loud and clear.