All the Rage

The other night Mama D asked me if I was a Raging Granny after I inquired as to whether she was one (she was with a woman who I know is a Raging Granny).  She said:  "Yes, Are you?"

As a 45 year old woman with a child just graduated high school my cultural conditioning told me to be offended.  Inside, my thought immediately was:  "Do I look that old?"  But I merely mumbled, um, no, and our conversation took off from there.

She is a fascinating individual:  edgy and intensely humourous. After talking with her awhile, I felt like I was allowed entrance to her widely extended clan.  This woman emanates a sense of clan felt only rarely in my life.  My high school drama teacher also had this type of aura about her and I believe today that this is why all of us former drama geeks still feel a connection beyond the facebook poking and posting.  I envision Mama D going around and gathering fellow clan members into her fold...a long trail of other gathered clan members behind her and myself being the latest in her trailblazing harvest.  Me:  the newbie with cotton wool in my ears that is ready to be yanked out and replaced with vaults of unknown wisdom that will enrich and disrupt my current life paradigms. That is what meeting Mama D felt like to me and I look forward to her teachings.

Of course, the first lesson she has taught me is that despite my knee jerk response to her question, there is no doubt in my mind that I'm a Raging Granny.  So I guess I'm Toronto's newest and possibly youngest Raging Granny.  Biologically I am definitely of an age where I could be one.  And these women are seriously cool so you're darn right that I want to be one.

As a group, the Raging Grannies are known to be a tricky bunch.  You never know what these women will be up to next.  Ever since their debut as an activist movement in the wild west of British Columbia in the late 1980s they make news using delightful songs and public performances that tend to really shake up things. Check out the Florida Raging Grannies parody on the republican uterus controversary (done in 2011 but we could update it and use the word vagina after the recent Lisa Brown abortion debate in Michigan fiasco). But they are not only about song. For example, check out the Montreal Raging Grannies calendar to raise funds to make a film of the groups 25 year long 'herstory'.  Their formula for success seems to be take an issue, create something to mock it, dress appropriately, gather together and perform.


I leave you with a performance by Mama D that removed whatever doubt I had about my declaration of being Toronto's newsest Raging Granny.  If Raging Grannies get to do cool stuff like this, you're darn right I wanna be in on it.  You can buy her CD here.

Stand By Me

In the summer of 1984 a friend of mine had an abortion.  In the Canadian mid-eighties this was considered a radical thing to do.  It involved the exchange of money and a trip to a clinic that may or may not have had pro-life protesters marching in front of it on the day of your appointment.

A further complication for my friend was that we were catholic so the whole mortal sin thing was hanging over our heads.  I say our heads because I lent her money for the procedure.  So, in fact, I aided and abetted the committing of the sin that was to prevent my friend from going to heaven directly upon death.

I now know that I was what we call book smart nowadays but man, I was a long way from being life smart that summer I was 17.  And as a mother of a now 17 year old girl I see the mirror reflection of this reality.

This abortion was quite necessary for my friend.  Her parents were staunch roman catholics and she would have been kicked out of the home and goodness knows where her life would be today. One thing is for certain though...it would have been a much rougher ride for her and that yet unformed child.

My musings of this time are brought on by my recent Linkedin re-connection with the religion teacher I had that year.  He is now a principal of a catholic high school.  I wonder, in his prior role of a religion teacher/counselor, how many young women he had to discuss abortion with.  Because he did with me.  My friend's abortion caused a major moral dilemma in my life.  The first voiced dilemma of what would turn out to be many fruitless hours spent worrying and wondering if 'god' would be happy with my earthly actions.  This young religion teacher, at the time of this moral quandary, was fairly new in his career and not too far removed from the hippie protests I know he participated in against things like nuclear arms.  At this point of his new career he was also leading bus loads of people to the very pro-life protests my friend could have faced on the day she went for her 'secret' abortion.  I don't remember much of what he said regarding my moral quandary but I do remember he pleaded with me to support my friend in her decision, in whatever form that took.  This advice had the effect of soothing my conscience - at the time.  Many years later I felt outraged that he had managed to bypass the whole pro-life debate with me and for that I am sure he was quite grateful.

Seeing his name pop up this morning as a new connection on Linkedin floods my mind with these thoughts.  Thoughts of incongruent teachings by the church of my birth.  A church that provided many opportunities for moral quandaries in my life.  Parents separating/divorcing/annulling?  Check. Not going to church regularly?  Check.  Not going to confession/communion regularly?  Check.  Eating meat on Friday?  Check. Not giving up something for lent?  Check. Masturbation?  Check.  Pre-marital sex? Check.  Shacking up before marriage?  Check.  Marrying in a different church?  Check.  Using birth control?  Check.  Raising my child in the church?  Check.  A homosexual sibling?  Check.  Husband abandoning marriage and infant child?  Check. Wipe slate clean with an anullment?  Check.

Looking back on all those life events that shackled my moral compass for years I feel exhausted.  I feel exhausted because the years I spent under the duress of the obligations of mother church were so futile.  I can not take on the church.  Any church.  But as a parent I am proud to report that these shackles have been removed from my child.  Her moral compass lies within and my hope for her is that this freedom will allow her to channel her youthful energy into making the world a better place.  Because, you see, for too many generations my family has been segued through life with the roman catholic church observing and directing from the moral rafters.  Enough is enough.  I severed the cord and claimed complete moral responsibility for my child early on in her life and am almost ready to release her into the world.  She will have complete freedom to choose whatever tools she needs to nurture her own moral compass and I will support her as best as I can with her choices.  For isn't that the best we can do?  My high school religion teacher thought so too and made sure I heard that above all else.  I think I might send him this blog post as a thank-you.  I hope he 'gets' it.

You are my fate.

Daughter turns 17 today.  This means that I got to say "my daughter" for the first time 17 years ago.

Language is so powerful.  These two words melted my heart for days, if not weeks after uttering them for the first time.  Even today I can tap into the wonder and marvel of those words and feel my heart melt a little.

There are so many hormones involved in this thing called mothering.

When I went on that farm trip a couple of weeks ago I felt like I was going to 'let down' when they started milking the cow.  It blew my mind that all these years later I could still empathetically release oxytocin by merely watching a cow getting milked (by machine even!).

I was a staunch La Leche League (LLL) member.  Attachment parenting, etc.  My daughter's crib turned out to be a great clothes hamper - i.e. she rarely slept in it..maybe twice - and since she grew by leaps and bounds in that first year a good clothes sorting basket was a handy thing to have (albeit a bit pricy).  Once I start earning a living wage again I intend to put LLL to the top of my donation list.  They are an amazing organization for new parents to turn to for support in all aspects of parenting.

I remember being amazed learning through LLL that some women who adopted could train their breasts/bodies to lactate. With the cooperation of the new born infant.  The miracle of birth is one thing but learning about this marvel of the female body completely gobsmacked me.  Hormones.

Daughter was a real snuggler, well after being weaned,  and really only stopped snuggling with me when she started snuggling with her teenage friends.  They regularly lie all over each other in the school hallways with heads on laps, feet on arms, etc.  There is nothing sexual about it (not overtly) and they are all platonically affectionate with each other.

I find this amazing.  At 17 I was not lying around on anyone's lap that I also wasn't furtively groping on Friday/Saturday nights.  Affection was always regarded as a prelude to something sexual.  And frankly I'm not sure if that was a nature or nurture thing.  I think catholicism and a general prudity of culture lingering in my 1980s suburb world had a lot more to do with it than I would have thought even 10 years ago.

My child, now a young woman, has been raised with the assurance that she is loved.  I know that she is nearly finished putting on her wings and will soon fly away.  That breaks my heart in some ways but I also know that this attachment parenting thing goes well beyond the nursing stage.  Hormonal human bonds transcend biology, as evidenced by the adoptive mothers that trick their bodies.  As daughter herself put it best in one of her notes to me long ago:  "You are my fate".

No Sh*t Sherlock

Daughter says the above to me this morning after I stated the bleeding obvious about something (before having my coffee, to be fair).

Daughter leaves for school and I am thrown back 25 years to a conversation I had with a university friend.

During my last couple of years at university I had the good fortune to obtain a part-time on-campus job that had some awesome side benefits.  One of which was being able to do my homework or knit on the job - I was giving out change for the arcade machines in what was called the games room and unlocking the ping pong room on an as needed basis.

This job also allowed me to befriend a few of the people who staffed the 24 hour student life centre.  This centre provided a myriad of services including the cheapest and most delicious coffee on campus.  These friends and I would often hang out in the new smoking room which was added midway during my undergraduate days - before that you could smoke anywhere in the building (think wide open space with many couches/comfy chairs and tables...then think hazy smoke settling over it during late night study sessions).

Me and this new friend, S., had developed a friendship that had gotten to the point of comfortable familiarity...we were on the level of personal joking but not many confidences had yet been shared.  I had actually been aware of S. during nearly my whole time at university since she was quite distinctive in appearance and worked at the student life centre so was in a high profile position for most students that frequented the centre.

One day S. and I were alone in the smoking room.  The smoking room in itself had become like a private members club.  All of us that were regular users were very friendly with each other and any new face was greeted warmly and tentative welcoming chit chat was proferred.

S. announced that she had something to share with me.  I was puzzled momentarily but then I knew what she was about to say.  I was uncomfortable.  I didn't want her to announce her 'news'.  Part of me was uncomfortable because I had had a similar announcement given to me in very different circumstances a couple of years prior and it basically ended that friendship.  I didn't want my friendship to end with S. and I thought that by her making this announcement that there could only be that kind of outcome...an ending.

S. took a deep breath and proceeded to tell me, with some fits and starts, that she was a lesbian.  The thing is, this information was no surprise to me or to anyone else that knew her.  Even in the late 80s some of us were hip to this kind of thing and dear S. was, well, quite butch.  In an era of big hair and neon colours, S. dressed in mens tshirts, boys jeans, and kept her hair cropped very very short.  After her 'announcement' I waited for what I thought was coming next  - which my only previous experience of someone coming out had led me to expect.  It didn't happen.  She didn't say "I'm a lesbian and I'm attracted to you, what do you say?"  In my relief at the lack of this addendum I said something I probably shouldn't have.  I don't think I said "No sh*t sherlock." but it was something just as trite and didn't acknowledge the deeply personal nature of what she had entrusted me with.  I will never forget how hurt she looked when I said that I had suspected this was the case.  At the time I was perplexed that she was so unaware of how others perceived her strongly 'butch' nature.  Now with my middle-aged hindsight I wish I could go back and just hug her for the difficult road she was on in a completely homophobic 1980s world.

Our friendship continued into the next couple of years and I even had dinner with her and her girlfriend a few times at their apartment.  Interestingly enough, hers was the second last 'announcement' of homosexuality I was to receive in my life.  The last was my sister and with her I know I said something similar.  After a lifetime of knowing someone as close as a sibling you should not be surprised by this kind of information. If you are then you might not be paying enough attention.  And like my experience with S., I wish I could go back and just hug my sister instead of treating it so glibly.

In a country that now legally acknowledges the equality of people with any sexual orientation I can recognize the heroic acts of my two university friends and my sister:  they were pioneers willing to come out amidst challenges I can only surmise.